It's been eight years since the love of my life was put to rest. Eight years since I last heard his voice, touched his face, or felt the warmth of him next to me. When Enzo's death was still fresh, I had a hard time visiting his grave, but after a while, it became routine to come to the cemetery and place fresh flowers in front of his headstone. I paid good money to have an over-the-top one made out of polished granite with an engraved image of him and an angel statue tall enough to watch over him.

It sticks out like a sore thumb amongst the other graves in the garden of this cemetery, but I don't care. Enzo deserves to stand out like the beautiful human he was.

Today is one of those days when I visit him, and the sun is shining brightly through the silver clouds after an earlier drizzle. There's even a rainbow, so I know it'll be a good day. I spread a blanket over the damp grass and begin pulling sandwiches out of my backpack. Which is another tradition I began doing. In the beginning, I would show up a few times a week, and practically fall asleep at his grave with tears damp on my lashes. My family and friends grew increasingly concerned, and they had every right to be. Through therapy, I learned I wasn't healthily grieving Enzo. Instead, I was obsessing. So, my visits gradually shifted to once a week, then once a month.

But today is my first visit in two months. Life has been pretty busy lately, and I think it's a good thing. So, I use a wet wipe to clean Enzo's headstone and remove the wilted flowers I left during my last visit. In less than a minute, his resting place is as good as new, and I sit back with a smile, admiring the polished granite and the words that say: a loving son and father. 

"To you, my love." I tap the headstone with my deli sub wrapped in white butcher paper. "Let's see, what shall I catch you up on this time?"

The sound of footsteps through the damp grass draws my attention, and I shield my eyes from the sun to see who it is. After a few feet, Sammy's silhouette comes into view. He's wearing his typical leather jacket with a turtleneck underneath, slacks, dress shoes, and a fedora covering his grey hair. 

"You beat me here," he says.

"I had an early start." I hand him a sandwich. "Turkey and Swiss with that pesto spread you love."

"You're a lifesaver. I'm starving!"

"Where are you coming from?" 

"Just a meeting with the guys. Territory stuff."

"Territory stuff?" I arch my brow in disapproval.

"Yeah, yeah." He waves his hand. "I know Enzo didn't like me going back to my old ways, but I was born a mafioso, and I will die a mafioso. Can't teach an old dog new tricks, Mara."

I purse my mouth, still disapproving. "You know how I feel about that stuff. I DON'T want Enzo around it."

"I know." He narrows his eyes at me, then takes a big bite of his sandwich and looks around. "Where is he anyway?"

"Over there." I point in the distance to a coy pond. "He's feeding the fish."

"Feeding the fish? He should be here paying respects to his old man!"

"This is all he knows about his dad." I motion to the headstone. "Coming here doesn't mean as much to him as it does to us."

"Still, this is his father." Sammy sets the sandwich down. "I'm gonna wrangle him over here."

When he stomps toward little Enzo, I turn back to the headstone and sigh. "Your son is growing up so fast. I wish you could see him."

Finding out I was pregnant eight years ago was the shock of my life. I should have known that night when we had unprotected sex in a closet in Las Vegas that it would lead me to motherhood. Staring at the pregnancy stick after Anika insisted I pee on one because I wouldn't stop vomiting every morning was the blessing I never knew I needed. Suddenly, my grief over a shattered future shifted to a new hope. In my womb was a growing life with half of Enzo's DNA. The love of my life would live on through our baby.

But it's still bittersweet knowing he isn't here to see any of it.

"He's really smart, you know," I say to Enzo's headstone. "Always gets good grades, and despite being a little shit sometimes, your son is a good boy. He takes after you in the intelligence department, but he's a lot like me, too." I smile and take a big bite of my sandwich. "He says he wants to be an actor when he grows up. What do you think of that? Our baby is a performer, like me."

"Mooooooom," I hear him whine, and look over my shoulder. Sammy has returned with Enzo, and neither looks happy. "Why do we always have to come here? It's boring. Can we go now?"

"Have some respect!" Sammy barks. "Your father might not be alive, but I am, and I will whip your little behind—"

"Hey!" I growl. "You'll do no such thing." 

I hand my son a sandwich and tell him it's ok to go back to the coy pond. He wastes no time running back there like his ass is on fire.

"That boy needs to learn respect." Sammy wags his finger.

"He has plenty. So leave the disciplining to me, alright?"

"You spoil him too much, Mara. If Enzo were alive—"

"Don't you finish that sentence!" I toss my sandwich down. "I am a damn good mother. So don't you dare insinuate what his father would or wouldn't do if he was alive because I guarantee you that Enzo would be on my side. Not yours."

"You're right. I'm sorry." Sammy holds his hands up in surrender. "All I'm saying is, it wouldn't hurt for him to have a male figure around."

"He has plenty."

"I don't mean me and your brother. I'm talking about maybe finding a boyfriend..." He shrugs.

"Shhhh!" I point at the headstone. "How dare you say that in front of Enzo."

"It's been eight years, Mara, and Enzo needs a dad."

"He has a dad."

"One that is physically present. No one will ever replace my nephew, but boys need fathers in their lives. My dad was a deadbeat asshole and look how I turned out. You don't want your son to end up like me, right?" 

"I've dated..." I sigh. "But I'm happy just being Enzo's mom. Why is that so terrible?"

"It's not, but Enzo wouldn't want you to be lonely."

"I'm not lonely. Besides, we have a lot of good things going for us. I heard back about that job interview." I grin.

Sammy's eyes light up. "And?"

"And I got the gig!" I squeal.

"Congratulations, Mara. That's amazing. When do you leave for Las Vegas and for how long?"

"I start next month, and the job is a three-month contract at the Bellagio. They said they'll pay for Enzo's homeschooling so he can come with me since I insisted that I can't leave him behind." 

"If only my nephew was here. He knew that one day you'd perform with Circ du Soleil, and now you are. Enzo would be so proud of you."

"It just a temporary position to fill in for an injured dancer, but still. I can't believe it, and I know Dominic put in a good word for me whether he'll admit it to me or not."

"My lips are sealed," Sammy says. "Buuuut there's a strong chance you're right."

"You've all been so good to me over the years."

"Of course. It's what Enzo would have wanted. You're family, Mara." 

My son's voice carries on the breeze as he chats with the fish in the coy pond. I smile. He's such a sweet boy, and I can already see he's growing up to be just like his dad with a huge, huge heart. Some days I still ache for Enzo, but I no longer grieve the way I used to. Instead, I remind myself that he is still with me through that adorable child playing with fish.

Everyone said I would find love again and I didn't believe them, but they were right. Only, it wasn't with another man. It was with our son. The love I have for him is the most intense love that I've ever felt, and I never knew it could be unconditional until him. Now I understand it, and I feel sorry for his future girlfriends because they're going to have to deal with me if they break his heart

"Enzo, ready to go?" I shout to him, and his eyes light up.

"Yeah!" 

"Want to come with us to get ice cream?" I ask Sammy. 

"You still bribing him with sweets for coming here?"

"No..." 

"Mara." He narrows his eyes at me.

"I'm not!" I insist. "Maybe just a little, but it's more to create a tradition with him. Like I said, this grave and the stories I tell him are all he knows about his dad. So, I figure we come to the cemetery and then go for ice cream after, so he associates this with something fun. It gives him something to look forward to."

"And when he becomes a bratty teenager and is no longer easily bribed with ice cream?"

"Well, I'm hoping by then, I won't need to bribe him. He'll just want to come. But if it doesn't work, then the movies might be a good option," I laugh, and gather up our things.

"Mommy, I want three scoops this time."

"With sprinkles?" I ask.

"No. Cookie dough and chocolate syrup." Little Enzo grins.

"Alright," I sigh. "We're getting the works." 

"I'll see the two of you later." Sammy reaches into his wallet. "The ice cream is on me this time. Get a waffle bowl. It'll hold the scoops and toppings better."

"Now who's spoiling him," I laugh.

"Yeah, yeah..." Sammy hands me a few green bills. "Enjoy, kid."

We part ways and Enzo threads his fingers through mine as we walk. I love that he's still young enough to seek my affection because I know in a few years he'll be too embarrassed to hold his mommy's hand or give her kisses. He does a bit of a hop-skip as we make our way out of the cemetery, our arms swinging, then takes off running with his fingers ripping free from me. It catches me by surprise.

 "Enzo!" I shout.

But the little shit is dead set on frightening the pigeons pecking at a puddle of rain. 

"Rawwwwr," he yells.

The birds flap their wings and skyrocket into the air to get away. Enzo splashes in the puddle and continues to make monster noises, then pounds his chest like King Kong. I catch up to him with hands on hips.

"You can't take off like that! A car could have come out of nowhere and hit you."

He tucks his hands into his pockets and lowers his head. "Sorry." 

"You've been watching Jurassic Park too much, young man." 

"Can we watch the newest one when we get home?"

"No."

"Pleaaaaaaase." He looks up at me with his big round eyes that are just like his father's. Even his brunette waves fall into his face the way Enzo's used to whenever it was disheveled. I brush his hair back into place then kiss his forehead. 

"Alright." I roll my eyes. 

"And can we make popcorn?"

"Yes, of course," I laugh.

"Mommy," he says, taking my hand again. "I like days like today."

"I like days like today, too, kiddo."

My eyes fill with tears, but I sniff them back so Enzo won't see. This is all I want. For my son to love the days we visit his father. I think my approach is working. 

With a heart full of warmth, I look up at the sky, where the silver clouds drift, and I spot the rainbow.

Somewhere over that prismatic beam of colors, Enzo is watching over us.

I miss you, My Love, and we're doing ok.

~The End~

*
*
*

Thank you to everyone who joined me in the journey of this book! I can finally mark it complete 🎉

This was meant to be a mini side project as a spin-off from the other books in the Murder For Hire series, with about 40k words, but turned into a novel with around 80k words! So, double what I originally intended lol.

What's next? Well, since November is the month most writers hunker down to crank out their next novel, I'm going to use this time to go back to writing Death Shaken Not Stirred, which is book 2 in the series and focuses on Lucas. I hope to see you there when I start posting new chapters again 🤗