Chapter 171: 171 ~ Mira
I was on my laptop when Jace came in and gave me a full smile that made my heart flip.
"Why are you smiling like that?"
"I just heard about Massimo’s funeral."
The small smile that was making its way up my face dropped.
"That’s why you’re smiling?"
He shrugged. "It’s a good thing, don’t you think?"
"I don’t know. It feels weird to be rejoicing over someone’s death."
"If I was rejoicing, I would throw a party."
"Hmm," I leaned back and stared at him, loving how his gray shirt matched with his eyes, giving him a weirdly ethereal look.
"Why are you staring at me like that, Mrs Romano?"
"Oh nothing," I bit on my lower lip.
"Speaking of celebrations, I know exactly how we can celebrate. Nothing over the top I promise."
I huffed out a breath. "Jace, I feel sore from last night."
My cheeks immediately turned pink. I didn’t realize when I blurted that out. It didn’t matter how many times we’d had sex, I still felt shy about saying stuff like that to him when we weren’t in the middle of some action.
His teasing tone immediately switched to worry as he rushed to my side.
"Baby, why didn’t you say anything?"
I shut my eyes again, thinking to myself that I should have just kept quiet. Now he was going to be overly gentle, which is not what I usually liked.
"I’m fine, I promise."
"I should book you a massage."
"Or you can give me a massage." I winked.
"Who are you and what have you done to my innocent wife?" He leaned in and kissed me gently.
I giggled.
"Mom is going back to New York soon," he announced as we pulled apart.
"So soon?" I pouted.
"Yeah," he sighed, taking the space on the couch next to me and massaging my feet.
Donna had fully recovered so I guessed she wanted to go back to her own space. I would miss her sassiness around the house.
"The house is safe now?" I asked just to make sure.
"Very safe." He said with a nod.
"I’d miss her."
"Hmm,"
"Won’t you?"
"Nope."
"Jace..."
"What? She’s bossy,"
I laughed so hard. Jace was proof that mothers always reigned supreme no matter how old their children got.
"You’re so dramatic," I teased, nudging him lightly with my foot.
He caught my ankle midair and pressed a kiss to the inside of it, eyes lifting to mine with that lazy smile that always turned my brain to mush.
"Maybe I like the drama," he murmured.
I rolled my eyes, trying to look unaffected but failing miserably. "You really think that’ll get you out of helping me pack for your mom?"
Jace smirked. "I already sent some of the staff to handle it."
"Of course you did."
He laughed quietly, still rubbing small circles on my ankle. "Relax. She’ll be fine. She wants to see the family business again, check in on some old friends. I’ll have men around her the whole time."
"Still," I muttered, "I’ll miss her voice echoing through the house. It makes the place feel alive."
His brows arched. "Alive or loud?"
"Both."
He chuckled, that deep sound I loved, then leaned back against the couch, stretching his arm over the backrest so casually it made him look boyish. "It’s good, you know? Seeing you like this."
"Like what?"
He shrugged. "At peace. Smiling. Not looking over your shoulder every five seconds."
I smiled softly. "It’s weird, isn’t it? Having nothing to run from."
"It’s new," he said simply. "And we’ll keep it that way."
Something about the certainty in his tone made my chest warm. I reached out, brushing my fingers over his knuckles. "You sound so sure."
"I am sure." He turned my hand over and pressed a kiss to my wrist. "I’m done fighting. For once, I want normal. You, me, mornings like this — lazy, quiet. That’s all I want."
"Hmm," I hummed, pretending to think. "And massages."
He grinned. "Obviously massages."
We both laughed, and for a while, the silence that settled wasn’t heavy — it was soft. Comfortable. The kind of silence that said everything words didn’t need to.
I shifted closer and rested my head on his shoulder. "You know what I realized?"
"What’s that?"
"This house doesn’t feel haunted anymore."
He looked down at me, a hint of surprise in his eyes.
"I mean, before, it felt like there were ghosts everywhere," I continued. "Like every hallway still held a memory of something bad waiting to happen. But now... it’s just home."
"Because you made it one," he said quietly.
I smiled, my heart melting a little. "You’re getting good at this whole soft-husband thing."
He chuckled, his voice low. "Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain."
"Too late," I teased, tracing invisible circles on his arm. "The world already knows you’re secretly a sweetheart."
"Blasphemy," he said dryly, and I laughed so hard he had to cover my mouth with his hand.
When I finally caught my breath, I whispered, "I love you, you know that?"
His expression softened instantly. "Yeah. But say it again."
"I love you."
He kissed me, slow and deep, like the words meant more than they ever could on their own.
When we broke apart, I was smiling like a fool.
"Dinner out?" he asked, brushing his thumb across my cheek.
"You’re planning something again," I accused, narrowing my eyes.
"Maybe."
"Jace..."
"It’s nothing big," he promised, holding both hands up in mock surrender. "Just us. A quiet place. No guards, no calls, no world. Just you and me."
I hesitated. "Can you even go anywhere without someone spotting you? This is LA."
He grinned. "I’m creative."
By the time evening came, I found out what he meant.
He took me to a private rooftop restaurant overlooking the city — soft lights, music floating in the background, the skyline glowing like a thousand candles. It wasn’t over the top. It was perfect.
The table was already set when we arrived, and I noticed something that made me smile.
"Roses?" I teased. "Since when are you cliché?"
He smirked. "Since I married you."
I laughed, shaking my head, but my heart was full. The waiter poured wine, and for a while, we just sat there — eating, talking, stealing glances like we were falling in love all over again.
He reached for my hand across the table. "You know," he said, "I never thought we’d get here."
"Here?"
"Yeah. Peace. You smiling at me without fear in your eyes."
My chest tightened. "We both paid a price for it."
He nodded slowly. "And I’d pay it again."
I squeezed his hand. "Don’t talk like that."
He smiled faintly. "It’s not regret, Mira. It’s gratitude."
For a long time, neither of us said anything. The city stretched around us, full of noise and life and everything we’d fought to protect.
When we got home that night, he didn’t rush to touch me. He just pulled me close, laid me down, and whispered against my neck, "Thank you for staying."
And in that moment — with his arms around me, the sound of his heartbeat steady under my ear — I realized something I hadn’t before.
Peace wasn’t a place. It was a person.
And mine had always been Jace Romano.