My Mafia Husband Thinks I’m Running Away with Our Son

My name is Nora O'Connell. At 18, I took a fall on the ice and woke up eight years in the future. Eight years later, I was married to my childhood rival, Finn Callahan, and we had a 4-year-old son, Sean Callahan. Worse, I had become a vicious woman who abandoned them both to grovel at Cole Mercer's feet. Cole was a poor student sponsored by my family, and I couldn't stand him. I couldn't believe my 26-year-old self had turned into his lapdog. It was absurd. I wanted to change everything, but no one believed me. My parents treated me like a threat. My son was afraid of me. Even Finn, who had loved me for years, handed me divorce papers. Everyone assumed I would run away with Cole and take my son with me again. Then Cole called me his dog in front of everyone. I slapped him hard across the face. My son held his penguin close in shock. "Dad, Mom didn't come here to run away. "She came here to beat him up!" ****** "Officer, I think this kid was sent by a scam ring." I gently pushed the little boy clutching a stuffed penguin forward. He looked up at me, his blue eyes brimming with tears. "Officer, I think my mom's gone crazy." The officer on duty looked from me to him, his pen suspended in midair. 10 minutes earlier, I had been trying out for the junior figure skating championships. My blade had slipped on the landing, and the back of my head had slammed into the ice. When I opened my eyes again, the rink beneath me had become a street in Grayhaven. I was wearing a red slip dress, and this little boy was crouched by my feet calling me Mom. The woman in the mirror was glamorous and mature. She looked nothing like the girl I had seen in the mirror that morning. The officer asked my name and age. "Nora O'Connell. 18." The boy sniffed. "Mom is 26. She doesn't recognize me, and she's bad at math." I glared down at him. "The first part is slander. The second is a personal attack." The officer rubbed his forehead and asked the boy, "What's your name?" "Sean Callahan. I'm 4 and a half." "Where's your father?" Sean held the penguin more tightly and lowered his voice. "My dad is Finn Callahan. He's very busy, but whenever Mom runs away from home, he comes to pick us up." Finn? An infuriating teenage face immediately flashed through my mind. He had lived with my family when he was young and had been so poor that we often shared my lunch. Later, the Callahan family took him back. We fought from the age of 8 to 18. He once stuffed confetti inside my skates. I once put his motorcycle keys in the freezer. I would sooner marry the rink's Zamboni than have a child with him. Several cars braked in unison outside the police station. Six black cars filled the street. A tall, broad-shouldered man stepped out, and every conversation around him died down. His face had lost its boyish softness, its angles now so sharp that people hardly dared look straight at him. But I recognized the faint scar over his left eyebrow. He had gotten it at 15, shielding me from a falling pane of glass. I stared at the scar, momentarily lost in the memory. His blood had dripped onto the blade of my skate that day. I had cried harder than he had and sworn I would buy him orange candies for the rest of his life. But the Finn before me was broader and taller. Eight years had sharpened the face I knew so well. He looked familiar enough that I wanted to rush over and make sure it was really him, yet different enough to make me hesitate. "Finn?!" I almost sprang out of my chair. "How did you suddenly get so old?" He came to me, looking Sean over first to make sure the child was unharmed before turning his eyes on me. "You still recognize me. I suppose you didn't commit to the act this time." I circled him. "Did you rob a bank?" The officer coughed. "Mr. Callahan is president of the Grayhaven Harbor Association." The line of men outside bowed their heads in unison. "Godfather." My legs went weak, and I grabbed the edge of the desk. What the hell? Eight years later, my archenemy had become a mafia godfather? Finn took a document from the officer and set it in front of me. In the marriage certificate photo, I was radiant in a white wedding dress. The man beside me was Finn. "We married at St. Mary's six years ago," he said, his voice betraying no emotion. "That day, you said I was the only man you would ever love." I pointed at the picture, my voice cracking. "Six years ago? I was only 20!" I had married at 20—to the nemesis I had fought with from 8 to 18? Yet in the photograph, I was smiling as though I had found the greatest treasure in the world. I held Finn's arm, unable to tear my eyes away from him. "Did we marry because... we were in love?" Finn's gaze rested on the picture for a second, then turned cold again. "At the time, I thought so." He put the certificate away. "Are you pretending to have amnesia again so you can take my son to see Cole?" "Cole Mercer? That poor student my family sponsors?" Finn stared at me with a deep frown. "What are you pretending this time? You funded an underground boxing club for him. You've spent four years making scenes over him and even abandoned your son. Now you're telling me you barely know him?" Sean tugged at the hem of his coat. "Dad, is Mom not thinking clearly?" Finn picked him up with practiced tenderness. When he turned to me, he became that distant man again. "We'll have her checked at home." I followed him out of the station. Looking at the unfamiliar face reflected in the car window, I had only one thought. What the hell had I done with my life over those eight years?