Alfie: Part 2 by Cara Dee

Genre: MM Mafia Romance
Series: Standalone duet from The Irish of Philly Universe
Release Day: Friday, February 21st, 2025

I woke up broken, and I went to bed broken. I’d made a decision that made it impossible for us to get another chance, and yet that was all I wanted.

Find the duet on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited: https://readerlinks.com/l/4600591
Add to your TBR: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/222374601-alfie

MM Romance | Part 2 of 2 | Second Chances | Irish Mafia | Family | Hurt/Comfort | Age Gap | Revenge
When two broken hearts have reached their limits, it’s time for a mobster to play dirty in order to let the healing begin. Don’t worry, Alfie has a plan.

That very second, the moment West said those words…I almost shattered. Again. I’d put myself out there. I’d begged him for a second chance. I’d told him I’d give up everything for him and our kids—but he’d shot me down. And now, when I let him know that I was changing my last name back to O’Dwyer, he had the balls to say his name suited me better. He stood there in front of me, trying to act like his eyes weren’t burning with unshed tears, and admitted that he didn’t know how to let me go.

Not long after, I nearly broke into a million pieces again, when Dad called and said that Mom was in the hospital. That she’d been assaulted.

No words could describe the rage that flooded me, and I couldn’t hide it from West either.

He was about to find out just how far the Sons of Munster would go to avenge their own.

—————-

Alfie belongs in the Irish of Philly universe by Cara Dee. However, Alfie and West’s story has been written so it can be enjoyed to its full extent as a stand-alone.

Excerpt

West Scott

We automatically snuck around the corner of the house, where we’d have more privacy. If Trip came out, we’d hear him and have time to hide the evidence.

It wasn’t our first rodeo.

“Colby mentioned you look like shit lately.”

I frowned. “Pardon?”

“Not in those words. He said you’re tired.”

Well, thanks a lot.

I swallowed uncomfortably and pretended to find the hedges interesting. They needed trimming soon.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Fuck, not that question.

No, I wasn’t fucking okay, and it wasn’t okay that he looked to be okay.

The pressure on my chest increased, and I took a quick pull from the smoke.

“It’s been a lot at work before my vacation,” I said. That wasn’t too much of a lie.

“Oh, right. You’re off for five weeks now.” He exhaled some smoke. “Any plans?”

I shook my head and peered down at his wrist. I wanted to give him the watch.

Would he find me utterly insane? I had no real reason, aside from missing him. Missing the days we sometimes surprised each other with little gifts, missing the days he casually adjusted my tie for me, missing the days of closeness and intimacy.

I just plain missed him.

“Would, uh…” I cleared my throat. “Would you accept a gift from me?”

“Huh?” He looked over at me.

“Or is it too weird?” I wasn’t sure. “I saw something after a meeting in the city last week, and I—” I stopped short, my heart rate picking up, and I handed him my smoke. “I’ll be right back.”

I rounded the corner again and walked briskly toward the guest room’s terrace door. I’d left the box on the bed—

“Yeah, it’s kinda weird!” I heard Alfie holler.

Right, but it was too late now. I was committed. I needed his reaction to it, because a gift like that would evoke his unfiltered honesty. That was what I was after. My initial sentiment about the gift was genuine. I’d simply wanted him to have it. But now, I…I couldn’t cope without something changing the status quo, and I was too chickenshit to do it myself.

I’d brought this misery upon myself. I’d left his house. I’d set boundaries. Respectable boundaries, in my opinion. Boundaries my mind was set to keep, whereas my heart wanted to flush them down the toilet.

I grabbed the box on the bed and walked out again.

I was an idiot. More than that, I was selfish and disrespectful and downright heartless, because this would undoubtedly trigger anger too. Rightfully so. He’d view it as my toying with his emotions.

Deep down, what I really wanted was for him to save me from myself.

Alfie waited for me around the corner, and he extended the smoke to me.

“Here,” I said. “I saw it in a store, wanted you to have it, ordered it, and…so, here.”

He had suspicion and weariness written all over him as he accepted the box. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what it was. I hadn’t gift-wrapped it, so the brand was embossed on the surface, and—

“Vacheron…” He trailed off and shifted where he stood. “Are you fucking kidding me, West?” There was no heat to his question, only exhaustion.

I took a quick drag from the smoke, unable to speak.

“You don’t just see this kind of watch in a store,” he told me, lifting the lid. “You find it online and order it, usually for a CEO in the private sector who’s retiring after fifty years of making everyone rich.”

He trapped his smoke between his lips and picked up the leather pouch the watch came in, and he detached the strap.

“I did see it in a store,” I said. “In a catalogue picture they had on display.”

He rolled his eyes but said nothing.

I stubbed out my smoke and stashed it in the tailpiece of the drainpipe for later.

My nerves were officially shot, and if I spoke, emotional nonsense would fly out. I wasn’t much of a crier, but I’d reached my fucking limit for what I could handle. My stomach felt tight and unsettled, I couldn’t escape the pressure on my chest, and my eyes burned.

Alfie swallowed as he saw the watch, and without thinking, he dropped the smoke and put it out under his shoe.

Say something.

“No, you know what?” he said without looking away from the watch. “This is the kind of gift a wife gives a random cabana boy to piss off her cheating husband.”

His comment did something to the air around us, deflating it somehow, and it sucked the words out of me before I could think twice.

“That’s specific. But a cabana boy wouldn’t care about something so classy.”

“It’s probably the cheating husband’s favorite brand.” Alfie didn’t miss a beat, and he glanced up at me. “Who’re you tryna piss off, West?”

Wait, what?

“Nobody.” I frowned.

“Try again.” He pinned me with an intense stare I wasn’t sure I’d ever received before. “You don’t give someone a sixty-grand watch for nothin’. Are you fucking with me? I can think of one gift you’d give your ex-husband, and it’s a Father’s Day present from the kids.”

The fact that he was in the right ballpark of what that watch cost put me on edge for some reason. I hadn’t expected him to expose me to that degree, and it threw me off.

“Happy early Father’s Day, then,” I replied stiffly.

“Quite the fuckin’ upgrade from the perfectly acceptable mug you had them give me in June,” he snapped. “I guess I’ll tell them to choose something other than a tie for you next year? Maybe a yacht would be more appropriate? You have a birthday comin’ up too. You want a house in the Hamptons?”

I gnashed my teeth. “If it bothers you so much, I’ll return it—”

“Fuck no! You gave it to me—it’s mine.” As he spoke, irritated and ever so unpredictable, he removed his old watch. “It’s mine. Put it on me. Fuck me, it’s breathtaking—but you’re off your damn rocker, West. Tell me why you gave me this.”

Roll with the punches, roll with the punches, roll with the punches.

“I wanted you to have it.” I got to touch him again, even if it was only his wrist.

“Bullshit. We’ve been over this. Is this platinum?”

I had to take a calming breath and slow things down. When Alfie grew heated and started thinking out loud, it was too easy to get swept away by his ranty monologue.

“It is. And I did want you to have it,” I insisted. “But yes, I anticipated a signature Alfie Scott reaction to go with it.” I pretended to struggle with the double clasp of the watch, just so I could brush my fingertips over the ink around his wrists.

Since the first time I’d seen his inked body, I’d discovered numerous designs I wanted to ask him about. I’d spotted our children’s birthdates, of course. Ireland, Puerto Rico, and Italy were heavily represented in the artwork. But so was I, which meant he’d chosen to eternalize memories from our years together even when he’d been trying to recover from our divorce.

I remembered the restaurant I’d taken him to for our first date, and it couldn’t be a coincidence he had the street sign for that address inked right there on his arm.

“O’Dwyer,” he said quietly.

No.

I swallowed hard. That was a gut punch. Nausea crawled up my throat.

“You changed it back?” I finished fastening the watch and had to withdraw my hands.

He studied his watch and brushed his thumb over the crown. “Not yet, but it’s on my list for next week.”

Fuck.

“Scott suits you better.” I had absolutely no right to say that.

He chuckled and peered up at me with the biggest fuck-you smile I’d ever seen.

“If it wasn’t for this watch, this is where I woulda told you to go fuck yourself,” he said. “Don’t do this to me, West. Just don’t. It’s cruel.”

I knew it was, and I felt like the biggest piece of shit on earth.

I was desperate, though. I woke up broken, and I went to bed broken. I’d made a decision that made it impossible for us to get another chance, and yet that was all I wanted.

I had to clear my throat as more emotions threatened to surface, and I didn’t know how to be honest with him without losing my composure.

Fuck composure.

“I…I don’t know how to let you go,” I managed to get out. He immediately clenched his jaw and looked away. “I can’t even fake it anymore, Alfie. I can’t sleep, I have little to no appetite, and I—”

About Cara

I’m often awkwardly silent or, if the topic interests me, a chronic rambler. In other words, I can discuss writing forever and ever. Fiction, in particular. The love story—while a huge draw and constantly present—is secondary for me, because there’s so much more to writing romance fiction than just making two (or more) people fall in love and have hot sex. 

There’s a world to build, characters to develop, interests to create, and a topic or two to research thoroughly. 

Every book is a challenge for me, an opportunity to learn something new, and a puzzle to piece together. I want my characters to come to life, and the only way I know to do that is to give them substance—passions, history, goals, quirks, and strong opinions—and to let them evolve.

I want my men and women to be relatable. That means allowing room for everyday problems and, for lack of a better word, flaws. My characters will never be perfect.

Wait…this was supposed to be about me, not my writing.

I’m a writey person who loves to write. Always wanderlusting, twitterpating, kinking, cooking, baking, and geeking. There’s time for hockey and family, too. But mostly, I just love to write. 

Find Cara on social media here:https://www.caradeewrites.com/cdwlandingpage