Page 73 of Knocked Up by My Dad's Mafia Boss
“She’s whip-smart and she keeps me on my toes. Never gives an inch.”
“Grace didn’t, either,” I say, smiling while I think of her. Those amber-brown eyes of hers, so much like Samantha’s.
“I have a type.” He draws in a shaky breath. “But I’m afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“I dunno. Of falling in love again. Of losing someone again. Of Sam hating me for it.”
“Samantha’s never going to hate you.”
“She’s hated me before. You don’t know what she was like as a teenager.”
I snort out a laugh. “I can only imagine. What’s your girl’s name?”
“She’s not my girl. Not yet. But her name is Olivia.”
“Pretty name.”
“You saw her. She’s gorgeous.”
She is. Not my type—blonde where Samantha is dark, leggy and thin where Samantha’s short and curvy.
Fuck. I can’t even think about other women without comparing them to her.
“I’m happy for you, Elio. Samantha will be, too.”
“I don’t know about that,” he says glumly.
“You should tell her.”
“Not yet.”
“What are you waiting for?”
Elio laughs breathlessly. “I don’t know. Waiting to feel less guilty, I guess.”
“About Samantha?”
He’s quiet for a beat. “About Grace.”
“Elio, she’s been gone?—”
“I know. I know it’s been years. But some days it still feels like yesterday, Dante.”
“Grace would have wanted you to move on. To be happy.”
“I know that.” His voice shakes. I pause and wait for him to continue. When he doesn’t, I grip the phone tighter in my hand.
“Does Olivia make you happy?”
He’s quiet for another moment. “Yes.”
“Then listen to your heart. Not your head.”
“Oh you bastard. Don’t turn my words around on me,” he says, laughing shakily as if he’s crying.
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
