Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
He gives me a sullen look, urging me to quiet Jasmine down.
Papa never likes it when people talk too much. And Jasmine’s a certified blabbermouth when she’s nervous.
I can’t stay annoyed or even serious once Jasmine starts to ask so many questions.
She’s everything that’s been missing my entire life until now.
She’s outspoken, and even though she tells me she’s clumsy and a non-achiever, she’s got more balls than most men I know.
I’m not sure my parents feel the same level of affection, though.
But I know I love her now, I mean. I really love her.
Like white horses and a carriage on our wedding day, kinda love.
Not just something you’d say off the top of your head. You’d show her.
I’d show her. Like I plan to.
Like I’ve been trying to, only because I’ve never even mouthed the words myself.
Her questions are kinda compelling, though, and I give my Papa a semi-pleading look.
Hoping he’ll respect Jasmine and her differences as much as I have to respect his and my Mama’s decision to live the life they have up until now.
Papa surprises me with his answers, though.
And not all of it’s to do with Jasmine.
“I kept you so close and for so long, Rocco…because I knew you wanted out. I knew you weren’t made for this life like your Mama wasn’t. But I dragged you both down into it with me,” he says, reflecting on things none of us can change now.
Except by letting them go.
“I figured you might grow into it, that being the man of the house, next in line to me, you’d be the one to take over once I was gone. I was wrong,” he says, but with a tear in the corner of his eye, that lets me know he’s not disappointed.
Far from it.
“You’re your mother’s son, alright,” he adds, wagging his finger at me, and it’s Mama’s turn to say something.
“Your Papa. He was a good twenty years younger than me when we met,” she blushes.
I try to do the math. “But. That would make you…,” I say, but she cuts me short with a smiling reply.
“Makes me old enough to know better!” she declares, and squeezing Papa’s arm, she tells us all some more of what happened, for Jasmine’s benefit as well as mine.
“Maria Portello fled on her own. She saw a way out, and like you, Rocco, she took it.”
I smile at Jasmine, both of us having our first little secret together.
“…She also took a good chunk of the Portello fortune with her,” Mama adds, giving both of us knowing looks.
“But her rescuer wasn’t from any family we’d know. He’s some district attorney somewhere, and although it hasn’t reached the networks yet, Maria Portello is gonna sing like a songbird. Rolling over on her entire family,” she says with a shrug.
“After the way they treated her, I don’t blame her,” My father says thoughtfully, and I feel a million emotions, things I could and probably should say, bubbling to the surface.
But I ask myself, do I really care anymore?
I wanted out of the mobster life, and my Papa practically spelled it out to everyone. I’m no good at it anyway.
He’s found his love and peace with my Mama again, and so Jasmine and I get to ride off into the sunset.
Right?
Well. Not exactly.
“And what makes you think you should be Rocco's choice?” my Mama asks Jasmine coldly.
I don’t like giving her a look, but Jasmine appears to have expected this question somehow.
“Uhhh, Mama?” I explain quickly. “I knew Jasmine wasn’t Maria Portello, okay? I followed her home, and when I couldn’t find her, I came straight home when I heard someone was snatched from in front of her building. Only because I had a gut feeling they’d grabbed the wrong girl.”
My mom lifts a brow, a curious expression on her face.
“The girl I know I’m in love with now. The girl who’s a woman now and the woman I want to make my wife,” I tell her.
Tell my Papa and tell Jasmine too.
A kind of so-there statement, but it’s also a proposal of sorts.
As I said, I’ve never been good with words. But hearing Jasmine squeal and having her leap into my lap tells me at least one of the three is happy to hear it.
“I mean it, Jasmine. I love you. And if the past couple of days have shown me anything…if the past few minutes have, it tells me that if you love someone, then don’t waste another minute telling them. And if you haven’t already, put a ring on that finger and hold them close forever.”
Jasmine’s eyes are wide, and her mouth round in an ‘O’ as I tell her before she asks me, “Is that some kind of a proposal, Mr. Martinelli?”
And feeling my body springing to life against her soft curves at the thought of her saying yes.