Fall For My Ex's Mafia Dad novel Chapter 355

Janeen does whatever she wants, as usual. She doesn’t really need the money anymore – none of us do – but she still takes up shifts at Crabby Dicks, the crappy beach strip club where we had our wedding reception, whenever she wants some extra cash, or needs to dance, or just desires some male attention. Sometimes she stays out all night, sometimes she’s home, but she’s always here when I need her.

Dad is a more constant, quiet presence. He’s been retired for years, though, so he knows how to entertain himself. Sometimes he goes back to the city to hang out with his old buddies, but most of the time he’s here with me as I hunch over the kitchen table, reading through legal paperwork, and histories of mafia families, and chess manuals.

“You getting anywhere with this, Fay?” he asks, a couple of weeks into the process when I’m weirdly studying Machiavelli’s The Prince alongside some of the international shipping maps that Daniel brought home from work.

I sigh and sit back, looking up at him. “I’m honestly not sure, dad,” I say, running anxious hands through my hair and piling it messily on top of my head.

“Can I do anything to help?” he asks and I take a deep breath and smile up at him.

“Maybe order a pizza?” I say, hopeful. Dad he laughs and goes to make the call. I dig eagerly into the greasy hot pizza about an hour later, absolutely starving. Because that’s how I am these days – just constantly hungry and constantly snacking to keep the nausea away.

Because the moment that I stepped into my second trimester…

Let’s just say that the easy nature of my first trimester? When I wondered whether I was pregnant, because I couldn’t feel – at all – that I was pregnant?

Well. That went the hell out the window.

I woke up in the middle of the night one night, green to the gills, and rushed to my bathroom to barf up absolutely everything in my stomach. And it honestly feels like I have been nauseous every single second since that first night.

The only thing that keeps the nausea at bay is constantly eating. And my solution to this – to which no one has yet protested – is to keep snacks in every corner of the house so that I can wander from room to room and there’s always something waiting for me.

“What is this,” Janeen murmurs one afternoon as she sits in my bathroom with me, watching me lean over my sink to put a little mascara on my eyelashes. I turn to look at her and see that she’s pulled a bag of popcorn out from the bathroom closet, stashed in with the towels.

I nod, conceding the point, and I turn to the mirror and grimace a little, and then look down at my belly. “What do you think, little baby,” I murmur, running a hand over my little pot belly. “You’re she until proven otherwise, while your dad, today…”

I sigh again and look at myself in the mirror, unable to muster a smile. Because even though I’m staying in the house, Jerome and Daniel are at court today, at Kent’s public hearing for his plea deal.

And even if in our justice system all those accused of crimes are innocent until proven guilty?

Today, Kent is pleading guilty.

Because I told him to.

“Well baby,” I say, not really knowing if I’m speaking to myself or to the little lemon-sized human growing inside me, “let’s just hope that this all goes well. And that I didn’t just ruin all of our lives.”