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I motion toward the stuffed shells. “Once these are done and in the oven, it should just be the salads, the garlic bread, and the pies.”
Storm grabs the spoon from my hand. “I’ll finish these. Why don’t you go check on the kids and make sure they’re not killing each other?”
Thank God.
Big sister saving me with an excuse to get out of here for a bit before I say something I shouldn’t.
Mom leans to glance into the living room. “Can’t the guys do that?”
I freeze.
Storm snorts. “They’re busy doing whatever it is they do in the living room—mostly drink and grunt, I think.”
Wiping off my hands on a kitchen towel, I wave off Mom. “It’s all right. I’ll check on them and be right back.”
Mom gives me another look, but she doesn’t object as I slip out of the kitchen and make my way toward the sliding glass door that leads out onto the patio in the backyard, near the pool, where the kids tend to gather.
Kennedy, Bishop, Atlas, Astrid, Angelina, and Coen sit around the table, playing what appears to be poker. I point a finger at all of them. “You better hope Nana doesn’t find you guys betting back here, especially with him sitting at the table.” I point at Coen. “Why don’t you go find Pope, Isaac, and Allie?”
Coen scowls and crosses his arms over his chest. Twelve going on thirty. He always wants to be with the older kids, even when we try to push him toward Pope and Allie. “I want to play.”
Somehow, allowing them to teach him to gamble doesn’t sound like something Stone and Nora would appreciate, not to mention Mom. “Well, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He huffs again. “Then, I’m going to watch.”
Angie walks over and leans toward me so no one else can hear. “I’ll keep an eye on him. If things get too out of control, I’ll send him in.”
Even though Bishop and the twins aren’t that much older than Coen, their maturity level means I have far less concern for them than him. Knowing Ang will be monitoring the situation makes it a little easier to walk away. “Good. Thank you.”
She raises a brow at me. “You want to tell me what’s been going on? All the hush-hush whispering?”
I narrow my eyes on her. “Not particularly.”
Angie scowls. “When are you guys going to stop treating me like a child?”
“Nobody treats you like a child.”
She rolls her eyes. “Bullshit.”
Coen’s eyes widen.
I give her a chastising look. “Watch your mouth around him.”
“Oh, yeah…” Angelina laughs. “Like any of you do.”
“True.” We all have a bad habit of speaking without filters around the kids, especially the older ones. “But still, we rely on you to take care of all the little ones, right?”
Her lips twist. “Yes.”
“Would we do that if we thought of you as one of them? I know it’s hard being the oldest and a full six years older than even Kennedy, but we appreciate you keeping an eye on them so we can handle other things, things you don’t need to worry about.”
Like the trauma the boy who will soon be joining the festivities has suffered.
She accepts the answer reluctantly, then grabs a chair next to Coen and whispers something to him that has him nodding. “Coen and I are going to play as a team. Okay?”
Atlas looks like he’s about to argue, but I cut a glare at him that silences him on the spot. It’s better to just let Coen play than to deal with him being crabby the rest of the day.
“All right, anybody need anything? Some snacks?”
