Page 72 of Heaven Help Me

“I hope your big head doesn’t fit in your precious car and you have to sell it to get an old person’s Buick.”

I let go of her hands and swivel, stretching out next to her on the bed. There’s really not room for two of us on this thing, but I don’t care. It’s going to be a very long time before I ever leave her side again. She snuggles into me as I wrap her up in my arms. For all her bluster and mean wishes, she’s a squishy little marshmallow underneath.

“I hope you marry me one day and make me the luckiest ciuccio in the world,” I whisper in her ear.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Valentina

The last week has been exhilarating and also quite painful. Who knew concussions were such a full-body experience? Deuce has lightened my load, babying me even when I tell him I’m fine. He’s not deterred by my independent nature—what he likes to call my stubborn-mule personality. He just barrels in and takes care of me anyway, proving he has every intention of putting me first, just like he promised. Almost makes the concussion worth it.

But it’s Thursday now and I’ve been cleared by the doctor. I can officially be out and about without worrying about sunlight, loud noises, or getting jostled in a crowd. Which means I have to face the town. The close-knit town I lied to.

Deuce puts his hand over mine, stilling the fingers that were pulling at a thread on my floral skirt. His eyes dart from the road to the side of my face as he drives back through the downtown area of Heaven, probably wondering why I’m not reacting excitedly to the news that I’ve been medically cleared.

“Do you have another headache?” he asks quietly. He’s learned over the last week to speak in soft tones so as not to set off a pounding in my skull. I think the remaining black eye is quite the reminder.

“No.”

My knee starts twitching up and down, a movement I only realize is happening when Deuce glances down at it. I still immediately. There’s no point trying to evade his questions. He knows me too well. Besides, I’ve had a whole week to get better at giving a voice to my feelings, especially the tender ones I normally tuck away so no one thinks I’m soft.

“I’m just not sure if this town is going to welcome me after everything that went down. They all know who I am now. I mean, the newspaper hasn’t stopped talking about the incident out at the cabin and it’s been a week!”

“To be fair, nothing happens here, so the kidnapping and shootout was pretty exciting,” Deuce drawls.

“Deuce!”

He winces. “Okay, okay. Yeah, you’re pretty much the topic of every piece of gossip right now, but not in an angry way. Everyone’s just glad you’re alive and well.”

I narrow my eyes and study him. His thumb taps the steering wheel lightly. His face is schooled into a nonchalant half smile that looks way too practiced. He’s good, but he’s acting too casual, I can just tell. I know this man as well as he knows me.

“Oh my God, they hate me.” I wrench my hand out from under his and fold my arms against my chest. All these people that I didn’t care to get to know have somehow come to mean something to me. I care about their acceptance.

Deuce sighs, then pulls the car into a parking spot so far down Saint’s Row, it makes me wonder what we’re doing. I had plans to hide out in the storage room of his boutique all day. He turns to me in his charcoal-gray suit with a turquoise tie and pocket square, looking like he doesn’t belong outside of Milan or New York City.

“They don’t hate you. They do wonder why you didn’t tell them who you really were right from the beginning.” He lifts a single shoulder. “They probably feel a bit lied to, and nobody likes that.”

“As they should! I did lie to them, Deuce!” I throw my hands in the air, unable to keep them tucked under my legs. “I was the head of a crime family, not some meek woman outrunning a bad relationship that I didn’t want to tell anyone about.” I lean in, my voice a desperate whisper shout. “I’ve killed people!”

We both know I make a good point. Not many people around here have seen the things I’ve seen, or done the things themselves. Heaven is full of understanding people who accept you for who you are, but a mafia boss might be a bit of a stretch, even for them.

“Well, we just need to have you set the record straight. Tell them the God’s honest, hand on the Bible, truth.”

I gape at him, horrified. “No! I can’t tell them the truth! The truth is…well, it’s Bettina-level horrifying!”

Deuce involuntarily flinches at the mention of his mother. We’ve successfully dodged her calls and texts for a whole week. We both know our luck is going to run out soon, but Deuce wanted to wait until I was cleared of my concussion before we speak to her. Thankfully, she’s had a lot of cleanup to do back in New York now that the head rat was exposed.

“Okay, so not the whole truth about your background. You don’t need to give them a detailed job description, but maybe you could just address the rumors head-on. Confirm your prior job, then shift the focus to your hopes and dreams.” He takes my hands in his. “You’re still excited to live here full-time?”

“Yes, of course. I already scheduled the movers to clean out my New York apartment and send everything here.”

Deuce shrugs like it’s just that easy. “Tell people that. Get them excited about you being here all the time. I’ll kiss you and tell you how much I love you and the rumors will be about us, instead of just you.”

I blow out a breath, hoping he’s right. “Okay.”

“That’s my girl.” He beams at me, kisses the back of my hands, and shuts off the car. “Now let’s get some produce from the farmer’s market. Our fridge is looking bare and I want to cook for my love.”

It still does something to me when he calls me that. I can’t believe the teenager who was in love with Deuce St. Legare is now living with him and planning a future together.