Page 70 of Thin Lives

She wondered all the time.

Emma schooled her features with a false smile when Affonso’s gaze leveled on her.

“No hello for me, my dear?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said. “We’re happy to have you back. Welcome home, Affonso.”

Somehow—by the grace of God and nothing else—Emma had managed to keep the resentment and worry out of her tone.

“You’re looking …” Affonso’s gaze traveled over her thirty-one week swell, and his smile grew a little. “Well, I suppose.”

“Everything is good.”

“Wonderful.” Affonso waved at Ray and Calisto with one hand and said, “I am fine, you two. As you can clearly see. These three will make sure I am in bed like the doctor wants. I do not need grown men tucking me under the sheets.”

“Zio,” Calisto started to say.

“Boss,” Ray cut in at the same time.

“Go,” Affonso barked.

Emma caught Calisto’s eye for a brief second before he left the house. Ray quickly followed behind, but not before telling Affonso to call him in the morning. As soon as the door was closed and the men were gone, Emma’s nerves climbed a notch or two.

She wasn’t sure what Affonso’s mood was after being shot, nearly killed, operated on, and then finally allowed home. What she did know was that he had allowed practically no one entrance in his hospital room—he wanted no guests there at all.

Including her.

Even his daughters were not welcomed.

“Now, you two,” Affonso said, bringing Emma from her thoughts. His gaze was trained on his two waiting girls who only wanted to spend time with their father after his accident. “No more worrying about me, hmm? I am perfectly fine, it was nothing.”

“You were shot,” Cynthia argued.

“It was nothing, Cee. It will take a great deal more than a couple of bullets to kill me.”

Emma sucked in a hard breath at those words, but no one seemed to notice. Cynthia and Michelle were too focused on their father, and the small bit of attention he was giving them. He never gave them enough.

She hated that for the girls, because she knew exactly what it was like to grow up with a father who spoiled you with material things, but held back the one thing a girl wanted most of all—his love, attention, and time.

When Michelle bent down to hug her father again, Affonso took the embrace with an annoyed sigh. “All right, that’s enough of that. It’s getting close to supper, and I’m hungry. Tell me food is ready?”

He’d posed his question beyond the girls, to Emma only.

She nodded. “Your favorite, Sherry made sure of it.”

“Perfetto,” he praised. “Michelle, Cynthia, why don’t you run to my office and grab those cigars I like in the box. I have a taste for one, and the hospital wouldn’t let me smoke.”

Without argument, the girls went in search of what their father wanted. The moment they were out of sight, Emma had all she could do not to fidget under Affonso’s heavy stare.

“How were things when I was gone?” he asked.

“Fine.”

“Oh?”

“What else did you expect? I can hold a house down,” she said quietly.

“Barely, I imagine. You’re too young for much else. My baby better be well, too.”