The Business Arrangement | Mafia Romance 18+

Chapter Twenty One: The Reconciliation (part 1)

POV: Henry 

Maya is mine.

Somehow, for some indiscernible reason, she wants to marry me.

The thought ricochets around in my head all day long. Back and forth, drowning out all other thoughts and problems as they arise. I return to it often, like a mantra of sorts.

Maya is mine.

She loves me.

Maya is mine.

On repeat, until I finally start to believe it.

If there's a silver lining to the chaotic storm of the past few months, it's this: everyone knows I'll kill anyone who tries to take her from me.

So, that's what I try to focus on as I walk towards the lone bench in Washington Park. The one beside the butterfly garden, where no one is likely to interrupt what's about to take place. The one that's already partially occupied, by a blonde, middle aged, surprisingly frail looking woman staring intently at the absent seat beside her.

My mother.

She sees me coming from across the grassy field and stands as I approach. In each hand, she holds a paper coffee cup. She offers one to me. A silent gesture, but as close to a hug as I'm likely to get from her. The woman has never been very affectionate, after all.

"Henry," she says, almost at a whisper, "Thank you for meeting me."

I take the cup from her in acknowledgement, and she seems to relax a little.

We sit, and, for a few minutes, stare in silence as a monarch settles gently onto a stalk of goldenrod. Then the wind blows, startling it into early flight, and it drifts away.

"I want to make one thing clear," I start, voice deadly calm, "I'm here because of Maya. Because somehow, out of the goodness of her heart, she wants me to forgive you and move on. Do you understand?"

Beside me, my mother nods.

Her normally flawless complexion has sunken, presumably from lack of sleep. There are dark circles under her eyes, thinly veiled with concealer. It's the first time in my life I've seen her look so haggard. Which means Maya was right: she was telling the truth when she apologized and asked for forgiveness.

"She's a wonderful girl," my mother says, as if she knows just what I'm thinking.

I don't bother to respond.

She's right, of course, but I still wish she had realized it sooner.

"That might be a latte," she adds, gesturing to the cup in my hand, "But it might be an Americano. I got them mixed up on the way here."

Yet another sign of just how stressed she is.

I take a sip out of solidarity, then wince.

It's definitely an Americano. Iced. My mother's drink of choice, despite the fact that the temperature is hovering somewhere around fifty-five degrees given that it's early fall.

"I'm so sorry," she adds. Though, whether she's talking about the coffee or the past few months, I can't be sure.

"It's fine," I shrug.

Maya is mine.

Maya is mine, and she's safe, and she loves me.

I try to focus on that, rather than how close I came to losing her.

In truth, I'm not sure I would have gotten Maya back without my mother's help. If she hadn't orchestrated the deal with Vitale, maybe I would have died on the way into Bianchi's apartment.