Page 112 of Always: A Legacy Novel

Cross grinned, and closed the box up. “I have my reasons for it.”

“I bet.” Calisto stood from his chair, and rounded the large desk. “I think I’ll go get some of the leftover lasagna from earlier. You must be hungry, too, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“All right, son.”

Cross waited until Calisto was gone from the office, and then he moved around his step-father’s desk. He never went behind the desk because he had always been told not to. It was not his desk, it was not his space. He wasn’t really sure why his step-father chose particular items to set on his desk, like specific knickknacks and whatnot. He also didn’t know what pictures Calisto looked at every day, as they were turned to face the man in the chair, not the guest on the other side.

He was curious, though …

Cross found the picture his step-father and mother had been talking about. He looked to be maybe five in the photograph, or maybe even six-years-old. He and his step-father were dressed similarly in white dress shirts and black ties, their hair styled and a mirror reflecting their images from behind Calisto. His step-father was bending down slightly in the photo, helping Cross to knot his tie, and smiling gently as he did so.

He didn’t remember this particular event, but he remembered a hell of a lot just like it from his childhood. He remembered that Calisto had always made time for Cross, no matter how busy he was. If he wanted to play, his step-father dropped everything to do whatever he wanted. Cross, like his sister, had always been a priority for Calisto, not simply an afterthought.

He loved his step-father for that. He loved him for being his dad, even though he hadn’t needed to be.

Anyone could be a father, sure, but not every man could be a dad. A man only needed to make a child to be called a father, but he had to earn his spot as someone’s dad. It was not the same.

Calisto taught Cross that lesson, and it was an important one, even if his step-father didn’t know it.

Cross had not realized how large the Marcello family actually was until they were all in the same house together. And loud. His family, like theirs, was Italian, but the Marcellos took it to a whole other level when it came to a party.

He had opted to take his Rover, while his parents drove their own vehicle, but by the time they arrived, the driveway and street was damn near full. His family threw parties, sure, but never this big; never with this many people.

Cross managed to get himself lost in the maze of people moving between a dining room filled with food, and every other goddamn room. Decorations hung from up above, pink flower centerpieces filled every table that had been set up, and he was sure it would take Catherine hours to get through the gifts that were placed in the living room.

Hours.

He was sure, if he could just find her, his girl was having the time of her life. Sure, this many people made him uncomfortable, but it wouldn’t for her. These were her family, and extended family. Her friends, her family’s friends, and her father’s people. She likely knew every name, and every face in the house, even if he didn’t.

Cross finally found Catherine in the main room, standing between her mother and father. Interestingly enough, his mother and father were standing there as well. The four adults talked quietly amongst one another while Catherine stayed quiet. He was just close enough to hear the conversation. The four adults only started talking when Catherine was pulled a couple of feet away by her younger cousin, Cella.

“Thank you for inviting us,” Calisto said.

Dante nodded. “It would have been strange for me not to, I think. Considering.”

“It would have been rude for me to refuse.”

“Puts us both in interesting positions, doesn’t it?” Dante asked.

“You could say that,” Calisto agreed.

“As long as it’s for the kids,” Catrina said with a smile, “then there’s no reason why we can’t all come together. I know it’s not the norm, but exceptions are always made. We certainly don’t mind, and business is quiet between our families.”

“Peaceful,” Emma agreed quickly. “And your home is lovely, Catrina.”

Catherine’s mother smiled wider. “Thank you. I’m quite proud of it.”

It was unusual for organized crime families to mingle in a personal way. Cross had been told his entire life that any more than one boss in a room would make for a bad situation if the two men were not there to discuss business at hand. He didn’t entirely understand why that was, only that it was how things were done.

A boss was meant to stay on his turf, with his men.

Cross suspected that his step-father was being careful—even in his words—to not overstep any boundaries where Dante Marcello was concerned.

As interesting as the meeting between his parents and Catherine’s was, Cross’s attention went back to his girl.

Wearing a dress that fell a few inches above her knees, with a skirt that flared wide, heels to match, and her hair done in long waves. She looked every inch a princess.