Falling For The Mafia Bad Boy | Completed

Epilogue - Three Years Later

Here's the epilogue and final part of Falling For The Mafia Bad Boy. Thank you to everyone who has supported this story! We made it!

Much love,
Emily Rose :)

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It's been three years. Three years of no violence, car chases, or getting held at gunpoint. Three years without the man who turned my world upside down. Three freaking years is a long ass time. Once the kidnapping charges were dropped, Nico's sentence was reduced. They couldn't entirely pin the murder on him, so they made a deal and got him on some weapons charge. He is now serving eight years.

***

   "I'm telling you, Tamara, this isn't a good idea. I mean, how well do you know this guy? Where did you even meet him? He could be a serial killer or worse." I told my best friend over the phone while standing in the kitchen.
  
   "Like in the Mafia?" She giggled. I faintly heard her doorbell ring.
  
   "That's not funny. Anyway, I think you're too young to be tied down," I mutter. I heard the doorbell ring again.
  
After everything had happened three years ago, I stayed in my little apartment, and surprisingly, Nico stayed empty. I asked the landlord one time, and he paled. Then, he made an excuse to leave. So, it's safe to say I stopped asking. A part of me wondered if Nico had someone paying for the apartment.

   "Oh please, at least I'm not like you and have completely given up on the male gender." Again, I heard the doorbell.
  
   "Well, I have my reasons and am happy with my life." Lies, whispers my conscience. I haven't been happy since a particular Italian god left my life in handcuffs.
  
   "Yeah, happy being you shut everyone out of your life and living in the apartment next to your ex." Doorbell.

There was nothing wrong with staying in the apartment. I tried leaving a couple of times and couldn't make myself. The memories with Nico in here were too strong. I felt like I was finally ready to say goodbye to him if I left. And as pathetic as it is, I'm not. After three years of no contact, you would think I had burned his stuff and moved on, right? Wrong. Turns out that Nico Moretti was much more challenging to move on from than one thought, even after multiple attempts at visiting him in prison. For the first six months, I went to see him almost every day, and he denied my request each time.
  
   "Hey, I didn't shut you out." Doorbell.
  
   "That's because I wouldn't let you," came Tamara's response, followed by her doorbell.
  
   "Are you gonna answer your door?"
  
   "What are you talking about? I'm in the supermarket." I freeze. It must be mine. "Callie? Are you okay?"
  
   "Uh, yeah, I just...I have to go. Talk to you later." I quickly hang up, place the phone on the counter, and walk to the front door. I never had anyone visiting my floor since it was the top floor with only Nico's and mine apartments. I quietly glance through the peephole but don't see anyone. Opening the door, my words got caught in my throat as pure shock rocks my bones.
 
   "Hello, wife." Standing, better looking than I could remember, was Nico with his trademark smirk. A slight thrill runs through my body.
  
I took a moment to observe the differences that three years made to his body. He always had lean muscles that had now become bigger and harsher. I guess there's not much to do in prison besides working out. I was afraid this was just another one of the universe's cruel jokes where I dreamt of him only to cry when I woke up and realized it was not him. But never in my dreams did he call me wife or have my name tattooed on his forearm. I look back into his gorgeous eyes. This wasn't a dream.
 
    "Well, shit," I whisper.

THE END...or is it?