“Thanks…” I started, cursing the crack in my voice when I spoke. Dante shot a glance at me, and I caught the horrified, panicked expression on his face, the same one any man has when they spot a woman’s tears. “Don’t worry,” I tried, hurrying to wipe my face dry. “I’m being…all moony and girly.”
He looked around, running his fingers through his thick, wavy hair like he needed something to do other than look like a helpless idiot before he spotted the picture that currently kept my attention. Then, Dante reached for it, moving it face down on the dresser.
“Come on, Maggie. He’s not that great…” I nodded, ignoring him, feeling stupid and ridiculous.
“Please ignore me…”
“Look,” he said, laying a hand on my shoulder, his tone light, but sweet. “I know my big brother. We might not have been around each other for a while, but I’ve seen him with women before and no matter how slick you two thought you were being sneaking around, everyone sees something is there.” When I blinked up at him, Dante grinned, wiping my cheek dry with his thumb. “I wouldn’t put any bets on those flowers being from Ma.” He nudged me, a gentle jab of his elbow in my rib. “Maybe that prick forgot all about Gimmee and sent them to you because he misses you as much you miss him…even though it’s only been a couple weeks.” He shook his head. “The pair of you are a little ridiculous, to be honest.”
I doubted that but wouldn’t correct Dante. He had lugged this heavy bed into the apartment and let me boss him around while he built it. Let him have his delusions. They reminded me of my own.
“I could use a drink,” I told him, nodding toward the living room. Dante followed me, shutting off the bedroom light as we left, but we both stopped short at the sound of Mateo’s soft cry coming down the hall.
I moved toward my bedroom, but Dante held up a hand, stopping me. “I’ll grab him. He likes me now.”
That was a stretch, but I wouldn’t correct the man. My boy seemed to only like Smoke and Mr. C. The other Carelli men he tolerated, but he didn’t complain or cry for me when Dante emerged with him into the kitchen, and he seemed fine to let him hold him as I fixed Mateo’s juice and a whiskey for Dante.
“For you, little man,” I said, handing Mateo his cup, then to Dante, “and your juice.”
“God, I hope there’s something stronger in that.”
“Only the good stuff.”
Dante’s worried expression relaxed when he took a drink and he set Mateo onto the floor. My mijo made a beeline for the empty boxes, and we followed after him, smiling as he moved right inside one of the largest boxes, hitting the side.
Mateo tore through the boxes, rolling onto his side, laughing and Dante lowered to his level, grabbing his cup when he dropped it. My mijo crab crawled from the mess of cardboard and packaging material to reach for his cup from Dante.
“Think you’ll be able to survive til the weekend without my mook big brother?” Dante laughed when I rolled my eyes, but continued, “It’s Pop’s birthday this weekend.”
“I know.” He took the drink when I pushed it toward him but didn’t pick it up until I nodded at him, a quick shift of my chin to insist he take a sip. “Paris has been bragging about planning the menu.”
At the mention of the blonde waitress’s name, Dante’s expression twisted, his mouth turning down. That was the general reaction most of the Carelli’s had to the woman. “Forget about the ass-kisser,” he said. “She’s not invited. You are and so is the whole town. Bring the baby and come have a good time.”
I held my drink in front of my mouth, moving my gaze to the baby, watching him laugh at the rustle of packing material and the pop of bubble wrap as he stepped on it. Could babies be lonesome? Mine certainly hadn’t acted like he missed Smoke, but then, how could I tell? If he could speak, say something, a name, anything… The thought made me feel worse.
“I know you can’t stay away. You love my family too much.” He downed his drink, bringing the empty glass to the sink, his steps confident like he already guessed what my answer would be. “Besides, Toni will be in. She’ll kill you if you aren’t there.” Dante leaned down and picked Mateo up, snagging a small section of bubble wrap to show my son how to pop several rows at once. My boy squealed, reaching for the plastic, bouncing like he thought it was the most amazing sound he’d ever heard. My reaction was unexpected— a giggle that crept from deep in my belly. Dante noticed, whipping a look in my direction, his smug grin all confident and arrogant. “And, you know, I did build your son’s bed for you. I’m gonna need a promise.”
The man was impossible. He was also a Carelli. That meant stubbornness went right along with all that impossibility. “Fine,” I finally said, taking a deep swig of my drink, realizing I’d probably need a lot more before I walked into that party. “I promise.”
9
Maggie
Despite hearing everything that went on in her restaurant and her family, Mrs. C. didn’t seem to know how often Smoke and I spoke while he stayed with Dino in the hospital.
If she had, maybe she would have pulled back on the dramatics when she reminded me of her husband’s birthday party.
“It’s a little dinner,” she told me, sitting down on a bench at the back of the kitchen with a cooling rag wrapped around her neck. “It’s fine…no, no, I’m fine.” She waved away Denise when the manager offered her another glass of water. Mrs. C. refocused her attention on me, offering a weak smile that I wasn’t sure was genuine. “A small family meal to celebrate my husband’s birthday.” She released a heavy breath, one I was convinced by this point was definitely exaggerated before she dabbed at her sweaty forehead. “You know how he loves the bambino…and you. You both will come, of course…” She shut her eyes, pulling the rag free from her neck to cover her face. “Even you could not refuse an old, sick woman, now could you?”
“No ma’am. Of course, I couldn’t.”
There was no way I could turn down the woman after that performance.
The truth was, I wouldn’t miss it for anything.
As pathetic as I felt, Smoke had promised to make an appearance.
“I can’t miss my pop’s party, bella, and the nurses here are taking good care of Dino,” he’d told me early Saturday morning when he called.
“So, you’re coming back? Tonight?”
“I have to settle a few things in the city and then I’ll be there. I promise.”
When I dressed for the party, I made an extra effort with my hair and makeup and changed my outfit at least three times. It was ridiculous. Dante had been right. It had only been two weeks since I’d seen Smoke. Two weeks since that night on his desk and just the idea of seeing him again had me acting like a war bride antsy for her man to break formation and run at her after a two-year deployment. We really had nothing to complain about.
Two hours of fussing over my hair and outfit and I found myself moving through the crowded dining area of the restaurant, my son being passed around the Carelli family. Mrs. C.’s “small family dinner” included the entire town, like most Carelli meals, but then Dante had warned me as much.