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Lulu is oddly calm. “Damn, I thought I had time.” She stops at the doorway and digs through her purse. “Let’s call Vinny, because it’ll take him a while to get here. I’ll drop Gia off at Nonna’s, and then if you don’t mind, you can drive me over to the hospital.”
“Mind? Of course not. Where’s the boys?”
“At my in-laws for a few weeks. They offered since the baby was due soon and I’m too smart to turn them down.”
Lulu waddles out of my office, and Libby must notice something is amiss when we reach the studio because she tells the girls to keep out of our way.
Gia, being her mother’s little replica, ignores the instructions and runs over to us. “Mama, is it time?”
Lulu pats her head. “Yep, so grab your bag and I’ll take you to Nonna’s.”
“But what about the recital?” Gia whines.
Lulu looks at me. “I don’t know, baby. Maybe if your brother comes fast.”
“Lu,” I warn. Even if she delivers in record time, she’s not going to be attending the recital this evening.
She rolls her eyes as though I’m shooting down a viable plan. “I’m sure I’ll see pictures and video.”
Gia crosses her arms and pouts. She’s so her mother, it’s uncanny.
“Don’t do that, Gia,” Lulu says. “I have to call your dad.”
I snag the phone from her hand and run through her contacts, clicking on Vinny. It goes to voicemail. As Gia is standing statue-still with a pout that would give a professional British nanny a hard time, Lulu is encouraging her to grab her bag. Vinny’s obnoxious voicemail where he pretends he’s actually answered the phone but hasn’t, plays in my ear and I wait for the beep. Libby is trying to get the girls back in order and to stop running over and asking questions about what’s happening. My dance studio has turned into a disaster—and who decides to step into the mix at this moment? You guessed it. The one and only Dominic Mancini.
He stops in his tracks, soaking in everything that’s happening. He probably wishes he could turn around and leave. This is a clusterfuck and Dom is not a patient clusterfuck kind of person.
As I leave a message, Gia stomps, and when I say stomp, I mean she could probably be a cast member in Stomp. Lulu is still dripping amniotic fluid. Dom is holding an iced coffee I’m pretty sure is for me and a small bag from the bakery I love.
I have no chance to reach him and talk to him before Lulu’s voice booms through the studio. “DOMINIC MANCINI.”
He smirks. He and Lulu have an unusual relationship, one born of hate and respect. Like two African lions fighting over a lioness.
“LUCIA MILANO.”
They stare one another down for a moment.
“The baby is ruining everything,” Gia whines.
“He’s your brother. Nonna will bring you to the recital. She can’t wait to see you.” Lulu attempts to put a positive spin on the situation, but I know Gia well enough to know that there’s going to be a giant guilt trip that will probably cost Lulu a pretty penny at the American Girl store.
“Whatever.” Gia stomps out past Dom.
His gaze follows her. “Talk about a mini-me.”
“Jealous?” Lulu walks up to him. “You could’ve had your own by now, but oh that’s right, you don’t want marriage and kids.” She’s sneering at him, and I roll my eyes.
He scoffs. “Who would want a mini-me?”
I want to raise my hand, but I smartly keep it at my side.
Lulu snaps her fingers. “That would be no one. Could you imagine a kid walking around making deals and counting his money in a suit?” Her eyes trail down his body. “Are you breaking out in hives without the high silk content of your professionally tailored suit jacket?”
Oh, Lulu. You just can’t help yourself. It’s Saturday, so he’s in shorts and a V-neck T-shirt, but he still looks handsome as always. I suppress a grin.
He stares at her stomach. “You’re having twins? I didn’t know.”
Shit, below the belt, Mancini.
