“Oh, this is amazing. I love a view of the water. I could sit and look at this all day.”
“Welcome to our humble abode.” I gave her a kiss.
“Frisco, honey, I’m sure people have many names for you, but ‘humble’ isn’t one of them. Even I know that.” She patted my shoulder.
She had a point.
She continued in her normal cheerful manner. “But I love you anyway. Mike’s waiting in the car downstairs with MJ. I didn’t want to bring the baby up here without knowing why he’s spiking a fever.”
“And your appointment is when?”
“At two.” She checked her watch. “Hopefully we won’t have to wait over an hour like last time. This time of the year, all the kids get sick.”
I raised my brows at Torre, who hadn’t managed to rid himself of the guilty look on his face. “Yes, hopefully.”
She adjusted the small Chanel purse on her shoulder, and I couldn’t suppress my self-satisfied smile. Since our shopping trip after Mike and I had become partners in the restaurant business, I’d never seen her without it. Val was blunt, strong-willed, and opinionated, but she was also loving and fiercely devoted to her family. From the start she had welcomed me, and we’d not only become good friends, but I truly adored her. She, more than anyone besides Torre, got me. We had a monthly date for drinks, and I took her as my date to the Opera when it was in season. I knew she was going to love the Chanel tote bag I’d bought her for Christmas—I’d seen her eyeing it online.
“You haven’t decorated your tree yet?” Val pointed to the evergreen leaning in the corner, its branches still tied up with twine. “You do know Christmas is only three days away?”
Not only had I never bothered with any holiday for the most part, I certainly hadn’t decorated my apartment for Christmas. Why go to the trouble, when I had no one aside from Presley to buy presents for and certainly little to celebrate? Growing up in my house, Christmas was a time my parents would make halfhearted and ultimately futile attempts to pretend they cared about each other and me, with the end result usually being both of them drinking too much, then fighting, with plates smashed and ugly names flung. I’d retreat to my room and wish I could be anywhere else. When I was old enough to know better, I’d invite myself over to Presley’s house and spend the holidays with them.
The season of joy held anything but that for me.
This year was different.
This year I had a reason to celebrate. I finally had someone who taught me what love and giving meant, even if I did want to kill him for cutting my fun afternoon short. Punishment would be its own sweet reward.
“Considering the ridiculous number of packages that have been arriving here for the past month, I got the hint. But I’d rather cut my—”
Torre clamped a hand over my mouth. “There’s a child here,” he hissed in my ear.
I licked his palm. “What?” I stood wide-eyed and smiling. “I was going to say arm.”
“The hell you were,” Torre groused, and I poked him.
“Watch your mouth, bello. There’s an impressionable little girl here.”
He narrowed his eyes, but I gave him a sunny smile.
“Well, I’d better get going so we aren’t late.” She bent down to kiss Tina, who waited, wide-eyed and clutching a doll at her side. “Be a good girl for your uncles.”
“I will.” She plopped herself on the couch and swung her legs, and visions of sticky fingers and spilled juice all over my beautiful furniture made my stomach queasy. God, I needed a drink.
Val hugged me. “I know this isn’t your thing, so thank you. We had no choice, with Mike’s mom fighting a cold.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m not going to do anything but sit around and drink Negronis.”
“You’re impossible. But it’s why I love you.”
“I love you too, cicci. But Torre’s in charge of children’s play.” I kissed her cheek. “I handle the adult kind.”
She laughed in my face. “Yeah, right. This from the man who spent an hour last time in Mom’s kitchen teaching a six-year-old how to roll the perfect meatball.”
“A required skill of any truly great chef.” I had to admit it was sweet to have the little girl next to me on a step stool, attempting to imitate what I did. “At least someone listens and appreciates my skills and talent.”
“Somehow, I think Torre appreciates your talent. Hidden and otherwise.” Val winked at me, kissed Torre’s cheek, and blew out of the apartment, leaving us with a little human who stared at us with the same big brown eyes as her father and uncle.
Torre slipped his arm through mine. “We were going to decorate the tree tomorrow, but maybe Tina can help us, and we can do it now. It’ll make a fun afternoon project.”
“Ohhh yes, Uncle Torre, can we? Please?” Tina slid off the couch and jumped up and down.
Torre’s eyes twinkled at me. “It’s up to your Uncle Frisco, but I happen to know he’s a champion decorator.” He winked at me, and I had a flashback of the night I used his naked body as a canvas for my pastries and ate them off him, one by one.
“You are so going to owe me for this,” I murmured.
“Looking forward to it,” he shot right back and swung Tina into his arms. “Sure. We can even bake Christmas cookies. I know Uncle Frisco would love to do that too, right?”
“Oh, it’s something I’ve always wanted to do. I’m dying to bake cookies. Been on my bucket list for years. All the cookies.”
Tina giggled. “Uncle Frisco’s so funny.”
“Isn’t he sooo funny? He makes me laugh all the time.” Torre set her on the floor and helped her with her jacket.
I gave him a pained smile. He wouldn’t be laughing tonight when I got through with him. “How about we first take off your boots, so we don’t ruin Uncle Frisco’s incredibly expensive floors?”
Torre unzipped Tina’s boots and put them off to the side. “Would you like to see all the decorations we bought?”
“Uh-huh.”
Torre took her hand, and they walked across the apartment. My idea of a perfect winter day would not have included trimming a tree and decorating my apartment to entertain a six-year-old girl. Then again, there had never been a Christmas with family, because there’d been no Torre, so I was willing to make concessions.
She and Torre rummaged through the bags, taking out all the knickknacks and stuff he’d spent hours dragging me around to buy. I’d let him run rampant, getting whatever he wanted since I had no clue what belonged on a tree, nor did I care too much. We’d ended up with some kitschy reindeer and Santas, a collection of brightly colored balls, and other assorted oh-so-cute ornaments. I drew the line at “Our First Christmas,” earning me a muttered “Spoilsport,” from Torre.
“I’m hungry.” Tina sat with the bags and ornaments strewn around her, and I cocked a brow.
“Uncle Torre?” I gave him a winning grin.
He glared for a second. “How about grilled cheese and tomato soup?”
She scrunched up her face. “No, I had that yesterday. I want pasta like me and Uncle Frisco made.”