Fall For My Ex’s Mafia Father

Chapter 0355

Janeen does whatever she wants, as usual. She doesn’t really need the money anymore — none of us do — but she still takes up shifts at Crabby Dicks, the crappy beach strip club where we had our wedding reception, whenever she wants some extra cash, or needs to dance, or just desires some male attention. Sometimes she stays out all night, sometimes she’s home, but she’s always here when I need her.

Dad is a more constant, quiet presence. He’s been retired for years, though, so he knows how to entertain himself. Sometimes he goes back to the city to hang out with his old buddies, but most of the time he’s here with me as I hunch over the kitchen table, reading through legal paperwork, and histories of mafia families, and chess manuals.

“You getting anywhere with this, Fay?” he asks, a couple of weeks into the process when I’m weirdly studying Machiavelli's The Prince alongside some of the international shipping maps that Daniel brought home from work.

I sigh and sit back, looking up at him. “I’m honestly not sure, dad,” I say, running anxious hands through my hair and piling it messily on top of my head.

“Can I do anything to help?” he asks and I take a deep breath and smile up at him.

“Maybe order a pizza?” I say, hopeful. Dad he laughs and goes to make the call. I dig eagerly into the greasy hot pizza about an hour later, absolutely starving. Because that’s how I am these days — just constantly hungry and constantly snacking to keep the nausea away.

I stepped into my second

wondered whether I was pregnant, because I couldn't feel — at

the hell out

to my bathroom to barf up absolutely everything in my stomach. And it honestly feels like I have been nauseous every single second since

nausea at bay is constantly eating. And my solution to this — to which no one has yet protested — is to keep snacks in every corner of the house

me, watching me lean over my sink to put a little mascara on my eyelashes. I turn to look at her and see that she’s pulled a bag of popcorn out from the

I murmur, suddenly blushing as I realize how weird it is. But my sister just laughs at me and puts it

around me and to run her hand over my

Princess Baby doing in there,

little chagrined. “Wish she'd lay off the nausea trigger a little bit, though. What does she even get from

on her twenty-first birthday,” Janeen says, grinning and giving me a

a she, Janeen,” I say, grinning. “We still don’t know, and you're going to confuse both me and yourself — and potentially