The Godfather’s Twenty Year Dream Was Her Chapter 07

The Godfather’s Twenty Year Dream Was Her Chapter 07

Alistair and I had been childhood sweethearts, inseparable for as long as I could remember.

His family was poor. Back when we were little, I’d split everything I had with him.

In my memories from my past life, we’d gone to college thousands of miles away from home.

Living expenses were steep, so I’d juggled three part-time jobs just to get by.

After graduation, he’d started his company, and we’d lived in a cramped basement apartment—freezing in winter, sweltering in summer, crammed full of cheap household goods.

No matter how tough things had gotten, I’d never complained once.

I’d always thought he’d understood. He just hadn’t been good at putting his feelings into words.

But I’d never imagined those two words—shallow—would ever come out of Alistair’s mouth.

I didn’t say anything. Then the private room door crashed open from outside.

I glanced over instinctively. Rafael stood silhouetted in the doorway, his easy, sunny smile gone.

His face was cold, that menacing aura eerily matching the man he’d become in the future.

So this was what a future mafia don looked like?

Before I could process it, he stepped inside and threw a punch straight at Alistair’s face.

Alistair reacted fast. He grabbed Rafael by the collar and fired a punch right back.

The two tall boys instantly grappled, the fight quickly spiraling out of control.

I hopped back, keeping well clear. No sense getting caught in the crossfire.

Apparently, guys don’t need referees. They just stop when they run out of steam.

Once both of them were sprawled out on the floor, I hurried over to Rafael.

I nudged him, keeping my tone light. “Hey. You said dinner was on you, right? Your hand still work well enough to swipe a card?”

Rafael: …

Outside the restaurant, I figured I owed Rafael an explanation. “I really didn’t know Alistair worked here.”

A dark bruise bloomed at the corner of Rafael’s mouth. He stared down at his shoes and mumbled, “I know. I just wanted to punch him.”

Honestly? If I could throw a punch, I would’ve hit him too.

Rafael looked utterly dejected. I worried he’d hurt himself somewhere worse. So I leaned in under the streetlamp to check him over.

Rafael abruptly pulled away. “Don’t look. I look lame.”

I couldn’t help laughing. I leaned in and brushed a light kiss over his lips.

“You don’t. I think you look pretty hot.” I straightened up. “There’s a pharmacy over there. I’ll get some iodine to clean your cuts.”

Just like that, the happy puppy was back. He practically shouted, “That’s two! You keep stealing kisses like that, and next time I’m not letting you get away with it!”

Later, he texted me: [Earlier, when we fought, you didn’t side with him. You came straight to me after. Does that mean you like me a little?]

Please. I wasn’t taking sides—I just didn’t want to catch a stray punch.

I hesitated, then couldn’t help asking: [Were you holding back during the fight?]

Rafael was a mafia heir. There was no way Alistair could’ve gone toe-to-toe with him otherwise.

[ I was scared I’d hurt him too bad and upset you. ]

My chest tightened. He’d held back in a fight with Alistair… just because he thought I might still care about the other guy?

[Thanks. I had a good time today.]

He sent me a cute puppy kissing emoji.

I couldn’t resist rewarding him: [I’ll bring you breakfast tomorrow before school?]

He replied: [OK]

I was about to lock my phone when it vibrated twice more.

I opened it, and it was Alistair.

Only a short message: [Mom’s in the ICU.]