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“Oscar has been teaching Brennan sign language.”
“No fucking way!” Con’s mouth falls open. “That’s a thing?”
“That’s why he’s wearing headphones, he’s blind,” Keen chimes in, and I wince at my nephew’s inaccurate comment. It’s a good thing the poor child has other skills valuable to the Mafia life that don’t require using intelligence.
“Keen, honey, Brennan isn’t blind or deaf. He’s just listening to music. Uncle Oscar is teaching him sign language so he can ask for things before he’s able to talk.”
Keen scrunches his nose up. “Well, that’s dumb.”
Yet another reason my son is listening to classical music and not people of below average intellect.
“I miss Pussy,” Chloe whines yet again, setting my nerves on edge. The child is relentless in her pursuit for unnecessary attention.
“Speaking of Pussy, did the damn cat make it to Mexico okay?” Con asks me.
“Pussy is fine. I have numerous pieces of photographic evidence that all is well.”
“Of course you fucking do!” Cal snipes, still bitter about Reece’s relationship with him, given the circumstances around recent events. Had the man only listened to reason.
I turn my venomous gaze toward Cal. “It’s not my fault you chose to judge your son’s—”
“Can we not do this again!” Lily snaps, her face falls, her jaw clenches, and her eyes narrow before she masks the anger and hurt behind Cal’s previous actions and paints a smile on her face.
“Who wants dessert?” Con asks, quick to change the subject.
Bren’s head darts up from his plate. “Who made it?”
Con’s eyebrows furrow. “Ma made it.”
Bren’s eyes narrow. “Then what the fuck did you make?”
“I mashed the potatoes.”
Bren huffs. “Figures.”
Con crosses his arms over his chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Lumpy as fuck,” Bren grumbles under his breath.
Con’s shoulders tense and his jaw tightens. “Go bring us a dessert, Con.” Will taps his forearm, but he doesn’t move. “The baby is making me crave something sweet,” she tacks on.
His face softens, and he glances toward Will, who gifts him with a soft kiss to his lips. He pushes back on his chair, throwing Bren a death glare as he leaves the room.
Will blows out a deep breath. “Jeez. You’ve no idea how many times this baby has gotten us out of a situation.” She giggles.
ChapterTwelve
Con
Bren is an ungrateful fucking prick. He should consider himself damn lucky I invited him to this family meal. His kids are feral little fuckers that none of us have the patience for; even Ma struggles with their behavior.
Lifting the tray, I stride toward the dining room with pride. I did a good fucking job assembling the tray of desserts, even if Ma made them all, I still helped make the best Christmas Eve ever.
I kick open the door and place the tray down on the table and take my seat. “You did good, baby.” Will kisses me on the cheek, and I pull her closer, tangling my hand in her waves of hair. I revel in her breathy pant when my lips collide with hers.
“Jesus. Get a room,” Bren grunts while leaning over the table to help himself to the bread-and-butter pudding.
I smirk in his direction. “I have plenty of rooms. You’re sat in one right now.” Will pulls me back into the kid-friendly kiss to divert me from arguing with my brother.
