“He ran the back of his fingers along her flushed cheek. His touch was soft, and she leaned her head in his direction. “My beautiful girl,” he said.She took in his expression. “You think I’m beautiful?”“I don’t think you’re beautiful, Haven,” he said. “I know you are.”

“Grabbing her hand, he pressed it gently to his chest. His skin was warm to the touch, and she could slightly feel his pulse pounding against her palm.“Do you feel that? I’m not going anywhere, Haven. This is yours.”

“I’m gonna take a nap, Heaven,” he said, wanting away from her to clear his head. He didn’t like feeling uncomfortable in his house.“Haven,” she corrected him as he started to walk away.“I know,” he said. “I kinda like Heaven though.”She turned to him, and their eyes met for the first time since he’d walked into the room. “Me, too.”

“sempre. she asked.Cracking a smile, he brushed his pointer finger softly across her lips. “Always and forever.”

“Sogni dóro, mia bella ragazza,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. "Sweet dreams my beautiful girl.”

“You’re not gonna kill that doctor I just saw, are you?" Carmine asked, the heavy dose of morphine in his system clouding his thoughts. "I know you killed that other one, so I was just wondering."Corrado said nothing, and Carmine wasn’t sure whether that was good or bad."I don’t think you should," he said. "He’s just a doctor.""Carmine?""Yeah?""Shut up."Carmine decided then he should probably shut up.”

“Dr. DeMarco nodded, motioning toward Carmine. “I’m thankful for the Mazda— damn thankful you didn’t return it scratched,” he said, glaring at his father. “I’m thankful to be out of that ridiculous boarding school. Thankful for music and my gun... I fucking love my gun.” Haven looked at him with surprise as Dr. DeMarco laughed. “It’s a nice gun. I checked it out. A 1911 .45 ACP. Where’d you get it?”Carmine shrugged. “Maybe I don’t recall.” “Fair enough,” Dr. DeMarco said. ”Are you done?” “Uh, I'm thankful for you all, even if you get on my nerves sometimes,” Carmine said. “Oh, and orgasms... definitely thankful for those.” “That’s enough,” Dr. DeMarco said, shaking his head as he turned to her. “What are you thankful for, child?” She hesitated, her nerves running amuck. “Having food to eat. A bed to sleep in, too.”