Chapter 12 - THE FAMILY WE CHOOSE
The Florida sun was blindingly bright as I walked down the wooden pier.
Vincent had arranged everything. The private jet, the security detail to ensure no remnants of Paulie’s crew could follow us, and the exact location.
I clutched the faded photograph in my hand.
At the end of the pier, a man in a straw hat was casting a fishing line into the turquoise water.
He had a slight limp and his hair was entirely gray, but I recognized the slope of his shoulders instantly.
"Dad?" I called out, my voice cracking.
The man froze. He slowly turned around. The fishing rod dropped from his hands, clattering onto the wooden planks.
"Emily?" he whispered.
I ran. I didn't care about the tourists staring or my bag dropping to the floor. I threw myself into his arms, and we collapsed together onto the pier, crying so hard we couldn't breathe.
"I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry," he kept repeating, kissing the top of my head. "I had to protect you and your mother."
"I know, Dad. I know," I sobbed. "It's over. They're gone. We're safe."
Two days later, we were back in Ohio.
My mother had fainted when we walked through the front door. When she finally woke up, she hadn't stopped holding my father's hand for forty-eight hours.
We were sitting in the small, empty storefront in downtown Columbus—the bakery Vincent had bought for me. We were surrounded by boxes, but it was the most beautiful place in the world.
The bell above the door chimed.
I looked up to see Vincent, Nico, and little Leo walking into the shop. Rose followed closely behind them, carrying a large, wrapped box.
"We thought you might need some help unpacking," Vincent smiled.
Leo ran up to me and hugged my legs. "Did you bring the aquarium ticket?"
I laughed, picking him up. "I sure did, buddy."
Rose walked over to my mother and father. She smiled warmly, understanding the profound miracle of a family resurrected from the dead.
"I brought a housewarming gift," Rose said, setting the box on the counter.
My mother opened it.
Inside was a beautiful, handcrafted wooden sign for the bakery.
Parker & Romano Bakery.Est. 2026
"We figured we're practically family now," Nico said, looking around the shop. "And besides, my mom needs a place to sell her apple pies."
My father laughed, a booming, joyous sound I hadn't heard in ten years.
That night, we set up a long folding table in the middle of the empty bakery. We ordered pizzas and drank cheap wine out of plastic cups.
I looked around the table.
My mother and father were laughing. Rose was wiping frosting off Leo's nose. Vincent and Nico were arguing playfully about baseball, looking like two normal brothers who had never known a day of mafia darkness.
There were no empty chairs anymore.
May you like
Every seat was filled.
And for the first time in my life, I knew exactly where I belonged.
