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“Hey, Fletch.” Like brothers, like family, Archer twists and extends a hand for his partner to pull him in for a hug.
Too bad Fletch slaps the offering away and comes around to squeeze me instead.
“Wifey!” He smacks a noisy kiss to my forehead and elicits a silly giggle from his bouncing toddler. “I didn’t even know you were flying out. I went to your apartment yesterday to walk you to work.” He looks to Archer and raises a brow. “Ya know, to keep you safe, just like I promised.” He brings his eyes back to me. “But were you there? No!”
“I’m sorry.” Laughing, I pull away to rest my back against the bar, making sure to keep Mia close. “I didn’t know I was being monitored. Had I known, I might’ve texted you my whereabouts. But seeing as how I was on my way to see myactualhusband, I had no clue I was supposed to check in with you.”
“Of course you did.” Now, finally, he turns to Arch and drags him in for a tight hug. “She was supposed to check in. Not jet across the country.”
“Trust me,” Arch rolls his eyes skyward. “I wasn’t expecting her to turn up either.” Clapping Fletch’s back, he pulls away and extends his arms for Mia. “I missed you, Moo.”
“I missed you too!” She dumps me like last night’s dinner and bounds into her Uncle Arch’s embrace. “Did you know Miss Penny is coming here in a bit? She’s gonna get dinner wif us.”
“Oh?” I look to Aubree, then to Fletch with a lifted brow. “Is that so? Is Miss Penny excited to meet the family?”
“What?” Mia cackles. “She already met the family. Me and Daddy are the family!”
“Well, of course.”
At a gentle tap to my shoulder, I glance back to find Tim offering a glass of soda. He doesn’t linger, and he tries really hard not to stare at Aubree. Once I take the glass, he’s gone again, snagging the television remote on his way and switching on the TV hung above the pool tables. He leaves it muted and goes back to helping Daisy work the other end of the bar.
“What I meant,” I bring my attention back to Mia, “is that Miss Penny is coming out to dinner with the rest of us.” I wrinkle my nose and lean closer. “Does she know we’re all a bit noisy?”
“Yes. And she knows Uncle Arch is silly. And she knows Miss Aubree is beauuuuuutiful. And she knows you’re so smart.” Pausing, she flashes a megawatt smile. “I told her all about everyone, because you’re my friends.”
“We sure are, baby girl.” Because my drink is only soda, and not wine like Aubree’s, I offer the glass to an already hyper Mia and grin when she accepts it. “When does Miss Penny get here?” I look to Fletch. “When does she formally become the love interest?”
“You’d better watch your mouth,” Fletch rumbles. He takes a beer when Tim slides it along the bar, then he lifts it in thanks. “Don’t make Miss Penny’s existence something it’s not.”
“Hey, Moo?” I reach out and tickle her tummy. “When was the last time Miss Penny slept over?”
“Oh my gosh!” Hyped on soda and excitement, she makes a giddy face. “She slept over last night! We had burritos for dinner and played UNO until it was bedtime. I won eleven games. Eleven!”
“No way!” I peek to Fletch. “She won eleven games, Charlie. Sounds like Daddy was distracted, huh?”
“You’re making it something it’s not,” he grumbles. “You’re gonna be so embarrassed when you realize how wrong you are.”
“Mmhm.”
A face I recognize flashes in my peripherals: a man I haven’t actually met but whose features play in every one of his sons’ expressions. Timothy Malone, the dead one, smiles at us from the news. The television remains muted, but it’s easy enough to see the broadcast is a journalistic piece announcing the criminal leader’s death and subsequent burial.
The same burial I attended only this morning, my hand in Archer’s, a black, wide-brimmed hat pulled low, and sunglasses covering my eyes from the media wishing to document those at the event.
My relationship with Archer isn’t a secret. But my presence at a mafioso’s funeral doesn’t need to be publicized, either. I figure it’s best if I simply blend into the fabric of the Malone family tree.
“Good riddance,” Fletch, having followed the direction of my attention, mutters low on his breath. He looks to Arch with an odd combination of pity and congratulations. “Do I tell you I’m sorry?” he asks gently. “Ya know, since he was your father.”
“No.” Dropping his hand to Fletch’s shoulder, Archer squeezes tight enough to elicit a grunt. Then stepping back, he twists and places Mia in Aubree’s lap.
Curious, I watch on as he takes my hand and pulls me away from my stool, then he plants his ass where mine was and risks my scowl until he tugs me back in and sets me on his lap.
His dad died. And he wants a hug.
He might mask it as a guy who wants to touch and annoy, a husband who wants a seat and to make a claim in front of thirty other cops who mingle and peek our way, but what this really is, is a boy whose father passed away.
No matter how horrible the guy was, no matter the abuse and violence, to lose someone that closely related makes even the strongest man sit back and consider life.
“How’s our case going?” Archer purposely turns so the TV is out of our line of sight, and wrapping his arm across my torso like a seatbelt, he hugs me close and peppers gentle kisses to the side of my neck. “Am I coming back tomorrow to help you solve that shit, or did you—”
