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“Happy? No. I’d be happy if he stopped bothering you.” Dad stalked toward Massimo. “You shouldn’t support his bullshit. You should know better.”
Massimo cocked an eyebrow. “I’m doing a friend a favor. It’s not my place to judge the morality of it. And neither do I care, if I’m being honest.” He glanced at his watch. “Gift exchange starts in five minutes. The kids won’t be happy if we’re late.” He turned around and moved across the garden toward the Falcone mansion.
“Do you want me to throw it away?” Dad asked, picking up Nevio’s present. “I could burn it.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I can handle it myself. Just leave it here.”
“Come on, Fabiano. Let’s not be late,” Mom said. She put her hand on his arm, and he finally put the present down. “It’s Christmas.”
Together, we moved toward the Falcone mansion. Mom and Dad chatted quietly and soon Dad’s face became less angry. Gemma opened the glass door to the common area for us. She wore an incredibly ugly Christmas sweater over workout tights. Huge red pom-poms were positioned right over her breasts and jiggled when she moved. Seeing my expression, she rolled her eyes. “Savio picked it for me. The girls wanted to make ugly sweaters a tradition for Christmas.” Her smile became wicked. “But I found a good sweater for him too.”
I glanced at Savio who watched as his daughters searched the presents for their name tags. His sweater showed the back of Santa Claus, who was pulling his pants down and flashing his very pale ass at everyone. “Good one,” I said. Gemma made faces at Battista which made him shake with laughter.
“Thinking of having another one?” Dad asked Gemma as we entered the house.
“I don’t think I want to give birth a third time,” she said with a grimace.
Kiara came toward me, beaming. She held out her arms and I handed her Battista. She had taken care of Battista often when I couldn’t, and Serafina was busy with Giulio. Now that Battista was being pampered by Kiara, I went over to Amo and Greta who were in conversation with Serafina.
Greta gave me a warm smile. I wasn’t sure when she’d last talked to Nevio and was half tempted to ask, but decided against it for my sanity. “He looks like Nevio,” she said with a nod toward Battista, whom Kiara was showing the red ornaments at the tree. Caterina and Luna soon joined her to entertain him too.
I tried to keep my face neutral. Christmas wasn’t the time to badmouth someone, and right now, I only had bad things to say about him.
“He should be here with us on Christmas,” Serafina said heavily. “He shouldn’t be spending that day alone.”
I wondered if he was alone. Maybe he’d found a girl to bang or was busy torturing a poor soul.
“Time to open the presents!” Kiara announced. Giulio and Roman, who had played chess with Nino, dashed toward the tree. Davide rolled his eyes and crossed his arms as if he was above such childish displays when he too had been like that a year or two before.
Caterina, Luna, Battista, Roman, and Giulio were the youngest Falcones, and all of them still believed in Santa Claus, though at almost nine, Giulio had started asking tough questions.
Serafina went over to Kiara, and they helped Battista unwrap his presents together.
“I think we should make ugly sweaters a Falcone Christmas tradition,” Savio said loudly, motioning at his sweater.
“Over my dead body,” Alessio said. He and Massimo lounged on the couch.
Savio shrugged. “That can be arranged.”
“It’s Christmas. No violent thoughts welcome,” Serafina said.
“Then you need to kick out your husband. I doubted he’s ever not felt violent in my presence,” Amo said.
Remo didn’t contradict him, only flashed a dark smile. Greta huffed.
Soon, we all settled around the dining table which was loaded with breakfast casseroles, charcuterie, cheese platters, panettone, and many more delicacies.
I caught Greta’s eyes across the table. In hers, I could see a hint of sadness. Nevio should have been here. Part of me was relieved he wasn’t.
Six months later
I chased Battista across the lawn. He was surprisingly fast with his short legs. He stumbled over a bump on the ground and went flying. He didn’t cry, only peered up at me with a look of puzzlement. “Not so fast,” I said with a smile as I picked him up, dusted him off and set him back on his feet.
My eyes slanted to movement on the patio in front of the Falcone mansion. It was early on a Sunday, and usually, the only people awake at that time were Massimo and Nino for their morning swim. But it wasn’t them.
Nevio stood on the patio in swim shorts and a black T-shirt that stuck to his wet skin.
I froze. Nobody had warned me that he would be back, that he was right here in Las Vegas. When had he returned? I’d spent the day before with Carlotta in the hospital as she recovered from pneumonia, so I hadn’t been over at the Falcone mansion. Serafina had watched Battista all day, and Mom had picked him up in the evening for me.
