so fast. Things were changing too quickly. All of it—the past six months, how fast my life had transformed gave me whiplash. Something in my chest tightened when I glanced at my son’s dresser and spotted the framed picture of Smoke holding a laughing Mateo.
“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