Page 19 of Ribbons and Roses
“Are you sure you want to go? Fishing has never been your thing.”
“I might enjoy it. Your father seems to love it. Maybe it’ll rub off on me,” he says, stroking my cheek. “I’ll have my phone on me. Call or text if you and the kids need anything.”
He kisses me a final time before he heads out the door with the other men.
Sasha comes up from behind. “Imagine choosing to be out on icy water on a cold day like this. Should we take the kids out to play in the snow?”
We bundle them up in their coats, beanies, gloves, and snow boots and then venture into the huge, fenced-in yard behind the house.
Dominic and Bryce immediately launch into play, scooping up snow and crushing it into balls that they hurl at each other.
Serena tries to skip in the snow only to trip over her own feet and then roll over to make a snow angel.
I turn Dante loose for him to waddle for a few steps, his little face full of wonder at the mountains of snow that surround him.
Sasha smiles. “This was a good call, Delphi. Coming up here for Christmas. Stitches agrees.”
“I just wish everyone felt that way.”
“Who? Salvatore? I told you he’ll come around. He just needs time.”
“Not Salvatore,” I answer, sighing. “My brother’s deciding he wants to stir up old drama.”
“Then he can leave at any time.”
“If he keeps it up, I just might have to ask him to.”
Sasha yells at Bryce to stop stuffing handfuls of snow down his pants. Dominic’s laughing along as she rushes over to shake the snow out of his friend.
I’d be amused too if I didn’t have a terrible roiling feeling in my stomach. Intuition tells me Marcel, much like Dad in the past, won’t be letting things go so easily.
I glance around our snowy surroundings and wonder if it’s paranoia that makes me feel this way or if there’s truly a reason to feel the way I do.
If there’s someone—or something—lurking just out of reach that’ll ruin this Christmas getaway of ours.
7
salvatore
“This your first time fishing?”asks Ernest.
We’re loading our equipment onto the bass boat. I load my tackle box and fishing pole, giving a slight nod of my head.
“I’m not the fishing type,” I answer.
Ernest lets out a hearty chuckle. “Fortunate for you—all of you—I have little else to do with my retirement time than to take up hobbies like fishing and golfing. I’ll show you the ropes. First things first, we optimize our fishing times based on the weather. These conditions will be perfect.”
“You sure about that, DA?” Stitches asks, rubbing his hands together. He balances his weight from one leg to the other to combat the frigid temperatures. “Can’t imagine what fish we’re about to catch in the arctic like this.”
“If you think this is cold, you need to go ice fishing in Alaska sometime. This is nothing, Stitches.”
“I’m sure both Salvatore and Stitches are used to equally challenging conditions,” says Marcel tensely. He makes no attempt at seeming civil as he shoulder checks Stitches and makes him stumble half a step. “They’re in themafiaafter all,right? Isn’t organized crime all about dumping bodies in rivers and lakes?”
My eyes narrow as I set my attention on Delphine’s older brother. He’s got his back turned to me, but that makes no difference as I take in his body language. His posture’s rigid, his jaw equally as stiff. He’s on guard because he’s not only pissed. He’s bitter.
That much comes through in his tight tone.
It calls back to the past, when his father, Ernest, had been the one looking down on us. Ernest had been the one making it clear he wanted his daughter to have nothing to do with a criminal thug like me. Figures his son would feel the same.