Chapter 42
Layla
The clinking of cutlery and the soft murmur of Eli’s voice filled the small dining room. Aldo’s presence was like a shadow on our dinner, turning the taste of my Nonna’s lasagne recipe to ash in my mouth.
But as Eli talked, relating the hours spent with Aldo working on the car, his eager grin nearly tore his face in two. He’d truly, genuinely, enjoyed his time with his fath—with Aldo.
And the way Aldo smiled back … Shit.
I couldn’t look at that smile too long, or it might warm the ice in my heart. The wall of it I’d built so carefully, a fortress against further heartbreak.
He looked natural, sitting at the other end of my table. Right. Like he belonged there. For a fleeting moment, I could almost see this as the life we would have had …
You know, if the bastard hadn’t walked out on me eight years ago.
My grip tightened on my fork to almost cutting force. No, there was no way I would see us as the perfect little family unit. Even in a fantasy.
This was the life I’d dreamed of, but it could never be reality. Not with who he was. Not with what had happened. Not after who I’d become. Never.
And yet, the way Eli’s eyes lit up every time he glanced towards Aldo … Could I really deny him the opportunity to have a father because I couldn’t let go of the past?
Even the way Aldo’s sharp lines had softened made me hesitate to deny them this connection. Maybe this was what he needed to remember how to be Vasco again. How to be human.
Not that it was my business. I scooped up my empty plate, then Eli’s, and headed for the kitchen. At the sink, I ran hot water over the dishes, picked up the sponge, determined to at least give them some space to talk—
“You missed a plate.” Aldo, suddenly, was at my side. “But I’m happy to wash it myself—”
I turned to take the dish. “I wasn’t sure if you were done with it—”
—he lifted it out of my reach. “Let me clean up. It’s the least I can do after you cooked for me.”
“You’ve done plenty today. Hours teaching my son?” I nearly winced at the use of the word my, but Aldo didn’t. “I really do appreciate that.”
“It was my pleasure.” He lowered the plate so I could take it. “Besides. It gives me an excuse.”
“An excuse for what?” I dried my hands on a towel, then propped my fists against my hips to give him my full attention. It might have been a mistake; the sight of Aldo Marcello in torn jeans and a fitted tank top was unfair to say the very least.
“To talk to you.” He took half a step closer, and my heart shuddered inside my chest.
“About what?” Did my voice sound a little hoarse? A little too high? I wasn’t sure anymore. I was trying too hard not to look at the way his shirt left every single muscle on clear display.
“About Eli. About us.” He propped a hip against the counter. Crossed his arms in front of his broad chest—which, of course, just accented more muscle. “Layla, I know I’ve made mistakes. I know I hurt you. Badly. But I want to do right by Eli. I want to be in his life.”
I pulled my eyes closed against the sudden well of emotion in my chest. How many nights had I dreamed I might hear those words—that my Vasco might come back to me one day and speak them.
Be careful what you wish for. What you dream of.
I pulled in a steadying breath, opened my eyes to level him with a cool stare. “I won’t stop you from being his father,” I said. “He likes you. A lot.”
His mouth twitched in the softest beginnings of a smile.
“But there are rules,” I finished, before he could unleash any white grins that might make me rethink all of said rules.
“Rules?” Aldo’s brow furrowed.
“Yes,” I said firmly. “If you’re going to be in Eli’s life, you need to guarantee that he won’t be dragged into the Mafia world. No business meetings, no dangerous associates, no family drama.”
Aldo’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Done. What else?”
“Him being your son—that doesn’t make him your heir.”
Those words hung between us. So much to unpack in those simple words. If Eli wasn’t his heir, Aldo would still have to have another child. With another woman.
“When he turns eighteen,” I continued, before either of us could get too caught up in that line of thinking, “he can decide for himself whether he wants to learn more about what you really do. But until then, I don’t want him involved. In any of it. He’s a child, and I want him to have a normal childhood.”
As normal as was possible anymore, I supposed. Maybe that ship had already sailed.
“And if he chooses to learn more about … the family business?” Aldo asked, voice halting, cautious.
Lord help me. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. If.”
“Fair enough.” His gaze on mine was soft, understanding. “I’d never force him into anything he didn’t want.”
I blinked, surprised that he hadn’t argued. “You’re … okay with that?”
“I am.” The sudden conviction in his voice surprised me. “Eli deserves to choose his own path. I won’t take that from him—and I won’t let anybody else, either.”
The honesty, the firm determination, in that tone caught me off-guard for a moment. And then, I understood. I got it. “You didn’t get that choice, did you?”
His gaze tilted through the kitchen window, his jaw flickering with tension as he thought his way through the answer—or maybe through memories of his own past.
“No,” he said finally, softly. “I didn’t.”
“And that’s why you left.” My words weren’t a question. And I didn’t expect an answer.
Later that night, after Aldo had left, after Eli had gone to bed, I sat alone in the living room, my mind replaying the conversation at the kitchen sink. Had I really agreed to let Aldo play baby-daddy to Eli?
He’d been earnest when he’d agreed to keep the family business out of Eli’s life—but how much control did he really have? He hadn’t been able to keep me out of that life.
Or himself.
But … But Eli loved him. That much was clear. The way Eli lit up when he entered a room, the way his gaze always found Aldo when he spoke, the way he so clearly admired the man—in a way both heartwarming and so bittersweet.
And Aldo, in turn, loved Eli. In the short amount of time they’d had together, they’d bonded. Maybe because they already shared so many traits.
It was almost enough to make me reconsider everything I thought I knew about him.
Almost.
I stared out the window, at the moonlight casting a soft glow over the lake at the edge of the property. I was a woman caught between two worlds—the life I’d built for myself and Eli, and the family I’d once dreamed of.
But maybe I was looking at this too deeply. Maybe it was simply a matter of letting Eli have a father for the first time. Maybe I could start there.
