How the Hitman Stole Christmas - Sam Mariano Page 0,40
me mama because I’m the only serious relationship he’s been in since she was born. I’m the only one she knows.”
I try to process all this as quickly as I can, but I won’t lie, I’m thrown. “So… I have a niece.”
Nora smiles. “Yeah. An adorable one,” she adds, her smile growing. “You’re gonna love her, Jasper. I really wanted you to meet them sooner, but you never come to anything. Remember over the summer when I suggested I take a trip to Chicago to see you for my birthday?”
I do, but it was a busy summer. Something possessed a pack of rabid Russians to try encroaching on our territory, and getting rid of them was like clearing out a fucking bed bug infestation. “Yeah,” I mutter.
“I wanted to introduce you guys then, but you told me not to come.”
Until she just reminded me, I completely forgot she wanted to visit, to be honest. “It was a bad time, I was busy with work,” I tell her, even though it’s no excuse. “I’m sorry, Nora. I haven’t been doing so great at the big brother gig lately, have I?”
Because she’s Nora, she immediately tries to bail me out, rushing to assure me she knows I’m busy and she doesn’t take it personally.
But she should take it personally. I love the hell out of my sister, and I can’t believe I’ve completely missed such monumental parts of her life.
She’s a mother, for Christ’s sake, and I didn’t even know she was serious about anyone.
Nora doesn’t know exactly what I do for a living—nobody does. I’m not close to anyone in my family, and as far as friends go… the only thing I have that’s even close would be my co-workers. They live the same lifestyle, they understand the risks and the schedule. We’re part of a counterculture normal people can’t relate to. Any outsiders we even try to befriend have to be kept at a distance, and even though we trust each other to a certain extent, there’s always a guard up. If you’re careful—and I am—you don’t want other guys like you knowing your weaknesses, and close relationships… well, they’re a good way to hurt someone.
There’s a reason one of my first thoughts when I nabbed Autumn was to find out who she loves.
If I loved anyone and certain people knew about it, that could put them in danger.
The last thing I wanted when Chicago was a battleground over the summer was my baby sister stepping foot in the city, but she couldn’t understand that. I never even tried to tell her.
In my line of work, it’s so much easier to be alone. Disconnected from anyone else. Completely solitary.
But living that way means missing out on so much of the good stuff.
As I follow my sister back over to Autumn and Tarek, I can’t deny the little pinch of regret when she takes Amira and settles her on her hip. The little girl gazing curiously in my direction is a stranger to me, but she’s also my niece.
I’m not much for conversation after that. Nora’s seen me shut down more times than anyone else in the room, so when she realizes it’s a lost cause and she needs to cut me loose, she passes Amira back to Tarek and tells me and Autumn she’ll show us to our room.
I was planning to stay downtown, but after all this, maybe I should take advantage of the opportunity to spend a little extra time reconnecting with the family I’ve lost touch with.
Nora takes us downstairs where the guest bedrooms are. The whole lower level looks more like a level people actually use. There’s a movie room, a few bedrooms, a family room, and a “billiards” room.
Nora gets a kick out of calling it that as we walk past the pool table. “A little pretentious, I know.”
“I feel like I should have a cigar and a glass of brandy,” Autumn volunteers.
“Tarek, I’m retiring to the billiards room. Be a dear and fetch me some cookies.”
Autumn side eyes my sister. “You can’t eat cookies in the billiards room, Nora.”
Nora sighs, playing along. “God, you’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking. Clearly, I’m too low-class for a room like this.”
It makes me smile to see them getting along so easily. While they’re making fun of the hoity-toity rec room, I’m checking out the walls, noting the framed baseball uniforms—not the first baseball paraphernalia I’ve noticed since we got to the house.