Page 88 of Sexting my Bratva Daddies

No. Two things.

One: Peyton was alive.

Two: She’d been hiding from us all this time.

33

PEYTON

“I’m so sorry, Peyton.” Scott rocked from side to side, patting his newborn daughter’s back as he swayed. “I had no idea you were in the picture.” He shook his head. “I really hate that we have to be so cautious.”

“It’s fine, Scott.” I waved off his concern even though my heart hadn’t gone back to its normal rhythm yet. “It’s not your fault. I should have stayed further back so you could take the pictures you want.”

“No more apologizing.” Mom entered the living room, setting her hands on her hips. “It’s been taken care of.”

“And it’s been five years.” I shrugged. “What are the chances they’re even looking for me, much less that they’d have seen me in that picture?”

“It was up less than five minutes.” Dad came up behind Mom and set his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sure everything is fine.”

Scott nodded, but his expression remained pensive. “I’m still sorry that I messed up.”

“Scott, you have a brand-new daughter to worry about. That’s what is important.” I reached up and smoothed the yellow blanket around the baby’s face. Her lips puckered, and she made sucking sounds but didn’t wake up.

“You’re right.” He stared down at his daughter. “Going to have plenty to worry about with two of them.”

My other sister, both my brothers, and my brothers’ significant others filled the space between the living room and kitchen.

We’d all come to Daphne and Scott’s house to welcome them home, on Daphne’s strict instructions that she did not need any time alone just yet. She wanted chaos and noise and family.

We had no trouble giving her all that and more.

Because this was how my family did things. They gave one hundred percent in everything, no questions asked.

“I packed the fridge.” Mom set her hands on top of Dad’s and leaned into his chest. “And everything is organized in the nursery. Make sure you call if you need anything, and we’ll check in daily, so no trying to make do on your own.” She looked pointedly at Daphne, who raised her hands.

Daphne and I shared the same green eyes and curves, and our smiles were similar enough that even if anyone had seen me in that picture, they’d probably think I was Daphne.

Except, she’d been standing beside Scott. I rubbed my head as a low ache formed behind my eyes. I really needed to stop obsessing about this.

My life had changed drastically since leaving New York. Faking my death hadn’t been easy there, but I’d been welcomed home with open arms.

And when I’d given birth to a baby boy several months later, everyone had rallied around me. In some ways, I couldn’t be happier. My son and I were safe and protected.

And yet, having our existence wiped off the face of the earth came with some disconcerting after effects. My son, Luka, couldn’t care less.

At four, he didn’t understand about social media and avoiding cameras.

We had plenty of pictures.

They were all just taken with old digital cameras. I had a job in another county, and I’d changed my name.

“Who’d have thought when you went to New York, you’d end up running from the Mafia?” Scott shook his head in a slow wag. He’d been the calmest about the whole thing, making the occasional joke to help alleviate the tension.

Daphne eased onto the couch beside me.

I gave her a quick once-over. “You okay? Need anything?”

“Fine.” She leaned back, resting her head on the back of the couch. “As far as I’m concerned, the hard part is over.”