Page 111 of Knocked Up by My Dad's Mafia Boss

After waking up viciously hungover, I shower and shave, hoping to make it down for breakfast before Maria cleans it up. I do make it, but Elio’s still downstairs, eating. He looks a little pale.

“Don’t tell me you’re hungover from champagne.”

He looks up at me. Shakes his head. “No. I just… I need to tell Samantha about Olivia.”

“You’ve already decided?”

He nods slowly. “After last night I realized… you’re right. I’m not taking my own advice. So I’ve got to tell her. I’m just not sure how.”

I grab a plate and eat like I’ve been starving for weeks. I kind of have. I haven’t been eating as much as I’ve been working out. Burning too many calories.

Samantha comes downstairs, padding barefoot into the dining room, and I freeze mid-chew. She doesn’t even look at me. She’s barefaced, in her worn kitten pajamas, her hair mussed. My favorite type of Samantha.

“Good morning, Papa,” she says, pointedly ignoring me.

“Good morning,cara mia. How’s your friend?”

“He’s good. He’ll be there a couple more days. I’ll visit tomorrow.” She’s not saying the whole truth. There’s something strained in her voice, but I’m not sure what she could be lying about.

It doesn’t matter. It’s not really my business.

I look up from my plate and meet Samantha’s eyes. She looks back. She doesn’t look angry. There’s nothing in her amber-brown eyes, and it makes my stomach twist.

I look away first.

“How was the party?” Elio asks.

“It was fun. Danced with Ethan Moretti.”

I try not to stiffen at the name.

“I saw. Did you like him?”

Samantha’s quiet for a moment. “I did, actually.”

The words fall on me like a hammer. Because she’s not pointedly glaring at me. Not looking at me at all. She’s not saying it to hurt me. She’s not doing this to get back at me.

She’s just… moving on.

My chest feels hollow.

“Maybe you should call him. I’ve got his number.”

“I’ll get it from you later.”

I try desperately to swallow down bacon that’s gotten caught in my throat. I drink half a cup of orange juice and it helps.

Samantha kisses her father’s temple, grabbing a plate and filling it with just bacon before taking it up to her room. Elio lets out a long breath. “I should have told her then. She was in a good mood.”

“You can tell her anytime, Elio. She’s not a child.”

“I haven’t been with anyone since Grace, not long-term.”

“I know. But she knows that eventually, you have to move on.”

“Part of me doesn’t want to,” Elio says, voice shaking slightly.

I raise an eyebrow. “Elio–”