up in the next few days and reported so we can focus on Halloween.”
“Halloween?” Drake frowns.
“Yeah. Last year, business doubled. Or so I was told. I just got on with it.” I shrug. “It’s the time of year—the masks and stuff. It makes it easier to be ‘open’ without being caught, especially if you’re at a party your spouse isn’t, and a lot of people are. Although it also means people get careless, so in the next three days, I’ll have an influx of calls and we’ll take on a bunch of new clients who are all looking to find out what their spouses are up to.”
Gianna’s eyebrows shoot up. “Sounds fun. Need another employee?”
Drake’s frown deepens, but I grin.
“Probably,” I say. “I’ll call you.”
“You cannot be serious.” Drake’s words are sharp.
“Why not? I’m sure she can take photos and scribble notes onto an A5 notepad.”
“Drake,” Gianna says sharply. “I was kidding.”
“I wasn’t.” I sip my wine innocently.
Gianna winks at me.
She wasn’t joking, either.
Drake shakes his head and presses two fingers to his temple. “I knew I never should have introduced you two.”
“Introduced us?” Gianna taps the back of his head. “Boy, I was changing her diapers when you were screaming, ‘Cooties,’ at her from the other side of the room. I knew her before you could say her dang name. Hush yourself and eat your dinner.”
Shots. Fired.
“Mom, I’m almost certain I never yelled, ‘Cooties,’ at her, and Noelle is not that hard to say.”
“Tell that to Nonna,” I mutter.
“Precisely,” Gianna agrees with me. “And, as certain as you are, son, I’m even more certain that either I or Kellie have a video of you refusing to touch her because of her cooties.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “I never had cooties. Everyone knows it was stinky boys who had cooties.”
Drake rolls his eyes. “If I thought Noelle would kill me, I didn’t bet on her and Mom together,” he murmurs.
“I heard that,” Gianna tells him, cutting into her steak. “Wash your mouth out with soap, you little shit.”
I glance up in time to see them share a look. His lips are turned up, and she’s fully grinning, but Drake doesn’t say another word to her. He just puts a piece of his steak, rarer than mine, into his mouth and winks at me.
That man knows better than to argue with his mama, and I love him even more for it.
“So... Have you seen Wally lately? Or Derrick?” Drake asks, raising his eyebrows. The look in his eyes is innocent, but I know that twitch of his lips. It’s nothing but mischief.
“Now why would I have seen Wally?” Gianna responds, reaching for her wine glass.
“Just a question, Mom.”
“Sure it is,” she drawls in response, touching the rim of the glass to her lower lip. One dark eyebrow quirks. “Now why are you askin’?”
“He broke your heart. If you have contact with him...”
“Nice try, son. I know you don’t like Wally.”
“I like Wally just fine,” Drake protests before swigging his beer.
Gianna snorts, setting her glass down. “When you were fifteen, you threw a cup at his head.”
“I didn’t throw it at him! I threw it at the wall. He just happened to be walking past that particular wall.”
I glance between them.
“No, y’all were fighting about just about everything. You lost your teenaged temper and threw the cup. I stood up for you because you’re my son, but you never liked that man.”
“Because he was screwing Rosie.”
“No!” I gasp then quickly clap my hand over my mouth. “I didn’t know that.”
Drake grimaces.
“Oh, don’t be so shocked, cara,” Gianna says dismissively. “We were all young. He’d told her we’d separated but were keeping it quiet until after the holidays for Drake’s sake. He was a charmer, she was smitten... I don’t hold a thing against her. And neither does he.” She cocks her head in his direction.
“Why would I? Rosie thought he loved her. What she did was wrong, but it wasn’t her fault.” Drake shrugs. “Besides, she bakes the best pie I’ve ever tasted. How am I supposed to be mad at her?”
“Wally was a whore. Is a whore,” Gianna cuts in, grabbing her glass again. She lifts the rim to her lips and tips it, finishing it in one go then handing the empty glass to Drake.
He gets up without a word and takes it inside, where I watch as he opens the fridge and retrieves the bottle.
“Don’t listen to him,” she says, cutting her eyes to me. Her tone is softer than