Page 122 of Dirty Pool

Gabbie laughed, and did as she was told. Before long, Catrina had the dough made, and was working hard to knead it to what she called perfection. Was there even such a thing? She didn’t know, but she wasn’t going to ask the woman to go into further detail. As it was, making bread with Catrina was already a whole experience.

“My mother-in-law welcomed us women into the family by cooking, too,” Catrina said, “and this was also, over the years, how she would bring us back down to earth. Cecelia never had an issue with dragging one of us into the kitchen, so she could bark orders at us on how we should cook, while at the same time, telling us the meaning of marriage and life.”

“Oh?”

The woman nodded. “I was never more grateful. I didn’t have a mother … not for a long time, anyway. And when I needed one the most, I didn’t have that influence. It felt, in a way, as though I met my mother figure later in life. You see, she wasn’t very happy with me coming into my husband’s life in the way I did, and it was rocky for a while, but this … cooking … was often how Cecelia and I worked through it.”

Gabbie frowned.

Catrina didn’t miss it. “What was that for, now?”

“I was just thinking … well, I’m sorry if you’re angry about me being here, or if you feel like you’re being forced to like me because of everything. I—”

“Oh, that’s enough of that.”

Her head snapped up from the flour in her hand.

Catrina was smiling again. “Of course, I like you.” She clicked her tongue, and passed Gabbie a look from the side as she quickly added, “I would dare say love, actually, but I wouldn’t want to scare you with that. He loves you, after all. And you love him, don’t you? That is all I need to know. I may not have been the woman who brought Michel into the world, but I still gave him life, and I am still the only woman he calls his mother. All I need to know is that he loves you, and you love him. That is enough for me. I may be angry at him, but I am blessed to meet you.”

Gabbie blinked.

That had been a lot to take in.

There were a lot of things she wanted to reply to in Catrina’s statements, but she kept rolling back to the same one thing. A specific thing. Something she hadn’t known about Michel until this moment.

“Michel is adopted?”

Catrina’s smile stayed firmly in place. “He doesn’t act like it, does he?”

“No, and isn’t that something someone might mention? You know, that they’re adopted?”

Although, it made sense. Michel did not share his mother’s blue eyes, or her red hair. He did not take his father’s dark shade of brown hair, or Dante’s dark green eyes. The dimples that peeked out whenever Michel grinned didn’t come from either of his parents, either. He did have some similar features to Catrina, like the shape of her eyes and the sly look in her gaze as she looked at someone from the side, but the latter could be explained by nurture over nature.

“He’s never felt like it, either, maybe that’s why he didn’t say anything. I can’t say that makes me unhappy. All I ever wanted was for him to know that he was so loved.”

“I can see you love him,” Gabbie returned.

“I do, very much, as if he came from my body—I love him the same.” Catrina shrugged one shoulder, and put her hands back into the dough to continue kneading it. “He was born to my half-sister. She died very soon after his birth, and I took him out of the country to bring him with me to America.”

Huh.

“Ma.”

The low voice coming from the kitchen entryway made Gabbie look up from her own work of dusting the counter with flour. There, she found Michel leaning against the entry wall, a small smile playing on his lips. Just how long had he been standing there?

His gaze drifted to her for a quick passing before cutting back to his mother. Catrina raised a brow at him, but he only chuckled in response. Gabbie swore she could hear the woman silently chiding her adult son for spying on their conversation.

“Ma,” he said again, giving her a look.

“Yes, Michel?”

“I have always known that I am loved.”

Catrina kept her gaze on her work, but one couldn’t miss the smile playing on her lips. “I know, ragazzo. I know.”

• • •

Gabbie flipped a decorative pillow off the bed, and onto the chair in the corner. Michel tossed her another from his side of the bed, too. For now, they would stay at his parents’ home until they figured something else out.