Four years later…

“I still can’t believe it. You. A mob wife.”

I glance at Breanna in the kitchen making cucumber-lime mocktails, and shake my head. “I’m not a mob wife. I’m just a wife.”

“Gunsyn’s not a mobster?”

“Not anymore,” I reply as I rock Annika in my arms. Who knew it would be so incredible being a mother? If you’d asked me back when I was working at the diner if I saw myself having children in the near future, I would have told you you were crazy. Funny how life throws things at you.

“Once a mobster, always a mobster,” Breanna scoffs as she brings the drinks...