Page 18 of Ribbons and Roses
It doesn’t take more than another minute or two before Dominic and Serena are rushing off to go play with Bryce once they realize he’s awake too.
I shake my head and let out a short laugh. “So much energy so early in the morning.”
“I don’t know how you manage three of ’em all at once.” Marcel stops in front of Dante’s highchair and tickles him under his chin. “Good thing you’ve got the help you do.”
“Salvatore makes it easy. He’s very hands on.”
“I meant the hired help.” Marcel turns to me, folding his arms over his chest. “It’s fortunate your husband can pay the big bucks to buy people like that. He’s got his family running just like he’s got his business operating.”
“Now’s not the time, Marcel. If you’re here to start shit, I’m not interested. Neither is Salvatore. Dad’s even moved past that stage. Why haven’t you?”
“Who’s starting shit?”
I roll my eyes as I gently transfer the Christmas tree-shaped pancakes from the griddle onto the large platter. “Marcel, it’s Christmas. It’s the time of year where we’re supposed to be celebrating each other. Why did you insist on coming if you weren’t going to be able to be cordial?”
“I’m being cordial. But that doesn’t mean I need to forget the past.”
“And what past would that be?”
“Delphi,” he says, dropping his voice an octave or two. He steps closer after glancing around to make sure we’re alone. “You’re married to a mafia boss… or have you forgotten?”
“I sleep next to him every night. How could I?”
“Your life’s been in danger how many times? It’s only a matter of time before you and the kids?—”
“Don’t you dare say that. Don’t you speak that into existence.”
“Speak what into existence?” Dad asks from the entrance into the kitchen. He’s wearing another cozy cable knit sweater, this one a burnt orange that goes perfectly with his dark brown complexion. He strides into the kitchen with a broad grin, stopping to kiss me on the cheek and then clap a hand to Marcel’s back. “Have I mentioned how much I love seeing my kids together like this? And my kid’s kids! Danny boy, you’re up!”
Dante squeals in excitement as his grandpa scoops him from out of the highchair.
“What were you two talking about?” Dad asks.
“I was just telling Delphine that maybe she ought to think about?—”
“Eggs,” I interrupt. “He was suggesting some eggs in case someone doesn’t feel like pancakes. I told him he can cook some up for Sasha and the others if he wants to.”
Dad seems suspicious for a second. Dante diverts his attention by asking him about the snow outside the kitchen window. He’s distracted as he goes into grandpa mode.
But while Dad’s mellowed out over the years, it’s as if Marcel has done the opposite. He’s as antagonistic as our father once was about my relationship with Salvatore.
Over the past decade, he’s lived overseas, conducting business with foreign companies and getting his love of travel out of his system. His absence has been difficult on our family, but Dad and I also respected his wish to do his own thing.
It wasn’t until recent weeks when he’d suddenly moved back to Northam.
Marcel walks out of the kitchen with barely another word of acknowledgment.
Dad turns to me. “I was talking to Salvatore upstairs. We’re thinking about spending the day fishing. Just us guys. What do you think?”
“You? Salvatore? Fishing?” I laugh before I can stop myself.
“You laugh, but the lake nearby is excellent for fishing this time of year. Think about it—we’ll catch some delicious trout and cook it for dinner one of these nights. Salvatore thought it was an excellent idea. You, Sasha, and the kids can hang around the house.”
I can hardly object when Dad sounds so excited. I only hope some of his holiday cheer rubs off on not just Salvatore but on Marcel too…
Late into the morning, Salvatore, Stitches, Dad, and Marcel depart on their midday fishing excursion. Salvatore comes up to say goodbye, cupping my face and kissing my lips.
“We’ll be back in a few hours,” he says.