Pike: Oh boy.
Mammoth: The first step is accepting the inevitable.
“What’s that mean?” she asks me as soon as she sees Mammoth’s text.
“He’s a little out there,” I lie, not wanting her to know he thinks we’re destined to be together.
Tamara: We could use another woman around the table.
Rocco: Mom’s going to love this.
Arlo’s eyes come to mine. “Should I worry about your mom?”
I shake my head and laugh. “No, sugar. My mother is going to love you.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“She’s different and totally badass in her own way. Just go along with whatever she says, and you’ll be fine.”
“Um,” she mumbles, pulling the corner of her lip in between her teeth.
I place my hand over hers before taking the phone back. “It’ll be fine. Go get ready because nothing makes my grandma madder than being late.”
Arlo pops up on her toes, planting a big kiss on my lips. “Thanks, Mello.”
“For what?” I ask, resisting the urge to pull her into my arms for more.
“For including me.”
“Always,” I reply, hoping I can keep the promise. “Now, go.”
She scurries away, those tight yoga pants doing nothing to help the morning wood I’ve been sporting since my eyes opened.
My hand and I are about to be best friends again, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.
But when I hear Arlo’s laughter, I know the best things lie before me and not in the past.
15
Rocco and my mother are on the front porch, waiting for us when we pull in. They’re whispering, watching us as we weave our way through the two rows of cars filling the driveway.
“Hey,” I say, giving my brother a chin lift.
“Hey,” he replies with a smirk and the same chin lift.
My mother comes down the two steps and meets us on the sidewalk. “I’m Izzy, Rocco and Mello’s mom.”
Arlo smiles, coming to a stop, not knowing my mom is a hugger and is about to pull her in. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Arlo King.”
Ma holds out her arms, motioning for Arlo to move forward. “We hug in this family, dear.”
Arlo looks at me, and I nod, before she looks back at my mom. “Okay,” she whispers, stepping quickly into my mother’s embrace.
“Another girl. The tide is turning in our favor.”
Rocco shrugs at Arlo, who’s probably giving him a confused face. “She’s obsessed with adding females to the family.”
Ma pulls back, her hands still on Arlo’s arms. “I wanted girls, but instead, I was given three pain-in-the-ass boys.”
“You love us, though,” Rocco says.
“Yeah. I do, but I would’ve loved to have a wee one to put a dress on and shop with.”
“Well, you do it with Rebel, Liv, and Adaline now, Ma.”
“True,” Ma says, smiling at Arlo as she finally releases her. “You can totally shop with us too. We go once a week and have lunch.”
“Maybe,” Arlo says softly, moving away from my mother and coming back to my side.
“Think about it.”
“I will.”
“Mello, bring her in and make sure to introduce her to everyone. Don’t do what your brother did with Rebel. Don’t be lazy.”
“I won’t be,” I promise her. “She’ll meet everyone.”
“Good.” Ma brushes her long brown hair over her shoulder, looking just as beautiful as she did when I was younger. “Welcome to the group, Arlo. Make yourself at home and eat a lot. It’ll make my mom happy.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Rocco shakes his head, and I brace for my mother’s reaction, knowing she’s always hated that word.
“Never ma’am. Izzy, Isabella, or Mom.”
“Got it, Izzy.” Arlo nods slowly. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. I just never felt like a ma’am.”
“Ma, it’s the South, for shit’s sake. You make us call other women ma’am,” Rocco reminds her.
Ma smiles, turning to my brother. “It’s respectful, and that always makes me feel younger.”
“You’re weird,” he replies.
“A woman has to keep any edge she has.”
I roll my eyes. “Can we go in?”
Ma steps to the side, motioning for us to move.
“Thanks,” I say, giving her a wink and getting one in return.
I seriously have the world’s best mother. She’s a total badass. She had to be in order to raise three crazy-as-hell boys who were hell-bent on trying to end their lives with insane antics at a young age. Then there’s my father, who isn’t easy by any stretch of the imagination. Somehow, she managed not to go insane over the last thirty-plus years, instead handling us with love and grace.
“Ready?” I ask Arlo as we step inside.
“Yeah. I think so,” she says, but she’s lost some of the color in her face, clearly nervous.
“They’re going to love you, and anyway, they’re busy with their own Sunday routines. They’ll barely pay any attention to you.” I keep her at my side, pressing against her lower back to move her forward.
I eat those words as soon as we leave the foyer and hit the back of the house, where the kitchen and living room are.
Every member of my family is silent, staring at us with goofy smiles.
“Um,” Arlo whispers.
“Hi,” I say, but it comes out more like a question.
My gram steps between us and them. “Hi, sweetie. Don’t mind the nosy rosies. They’re harmless, and they’re staring at Carmello, not you.”
“Okay,” Arlo says, moving into my side.
“Hey, Gram.”
“Baby,” she whispers, reaching up to touch my face, followed by pressing her lips to my cheek. “You look happy.”
“I am happy.”
“Good,” she says, her face soft and sweet. “That’s all a grandmother wants to hear.”
“I’m Gram,” she says to Arlo. “You can call me Gram, Nonna, or Grandma. I refuse to answer to anything else at my age and when we’re with family.”
“But I’m not family,” Arlo replies, and I brace myself again, knowing my family is a pain in the dick about this shit.
“If Mello brought you here, you are. And anyway, anyone who walks through my front door becomes an honorary member. You’re in now for as long as you want. Now, come here and give me a hug.”
Arlo looks at me, and I give her a little shove forward. There’s no getting away from the formalities of this family, no matter who the person is.
“So pretty,” Gram says, wrapping Arlo in her arms. “My grandson did good.”
“Lily set us up,” I tell my grandma for no reason at all.
Gram smiles as she lets go of Arlo. “Then this one’s a good girl, too. None of that trash I know he’s been seen around town with for years.”
My face heats, and I can’t look her in the eyes. “That’s not true.”
“Don’t lie to me, Carmello. Small towns make word travel fast and wide. I hear things, and you tend to be the favorite topic of the worst gossips.”