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But I have to deal with it sooner or later.

Like death and taxes, there’s no way out of little brothers who love to pester you. Finally, I answer, wedging the phone between my cheek and shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Bro, have you lost your fucking mind?”

I grit my teeth. That hits a little too close to home, closer than Cris will ever know.

“What do you want, Cris?”

“Don’t bullshit me, Luca. Like you don’t know. Seriously, you’re married? And you didn’t even think to tell your family before you jumped into this? Didn’t even think about what it might mean for business?” He pauses. “I mean, shit, not that it’s bad. No clue how I’m going to break the news to Dad.”

Typical Cris. No congratulations and no asking about my bride.

His selfish ass puts the family biz first and how it affects his bottom line.

I’d love to see his dumbass tie the knot. The poor woman would never see him between the time he spends locked in his office and roaming the casino floor.

He’s desperate to prove his balls dropped, managing a chaotic outpost like Vegas.

Then again, what the fuck am I doing here?

“Why bother? He won’t remember five minutes after you break the news,” I say bitterly, turning my chair.

There’s a photo of my father from decades ago on my desk, back in his prime. People say I look like him, and maybe I do.

Hell, maybe I’m already suffering his fate, my brain falling apart at a younger age. Did he see imaginary penguins too before it got bad?

“It’s family, Bro. I think he’d be happy, no matter how short-lived it is,” Cris says.

“He won’t remember, Cris. Might just confuse him more.”

The cold truth.

Cris knows it, too.

For a second, I wish my mother was around to meet Sylvie.

She would've liked her.

Hell, Mama liked everyone, but I think she would’ve been fond of Sylvie. They both share the same purity that’s too good for this rotten fucking world.

I also hope I’m never showered in Sylvie’s blood.

If wishes were fishes, we’d all go to bed fat and happy! Inky’s shrill voice echoes in my ear, so close I jump.

“Not now,” I mutter.

“Bro?”

“Nothing. It’s just, you know how he gets. Why pile on Dad’s confusion when he can’t keep much straight?”

“Well, I have to tell Dom. Can’t talk me out of that one.” He laughs. “This chick must be something else for you to fuck off and elope with her. Don’t tell me you’re that embarrassed of us?” Cris’ voice lances through the dark cloud around my head. “Who is she, anyway? Wait. Did you get her pregnant?” His tone drops. “Holy fuck, is that what this is? Do I get to be Uncle Cris?”

“No, you idiot. Her name’s Sylvie, and she’s not pregnant.”

Not yet.