“I actually came by to see if Cherie was here yet.”
“Nope, not yet. You want a sopapilla? Maria made some earlier, they’re delicious. They’re on the counter.”
“Nah, I’m good, thanks.” My gaze drifts to the stairwell. I shouldn’t go up there, but my legs carry me in that direction anyway. “Dom up there?”
“Yep,” Lily verifies, turn pointing at the book and gasping at the toddler in her lap. “Oh no, the list! Where do you think it’s going to go?”
“Over there,” he states, pointing at the book.
I look away from them and make the decision to go up the stairs. Even halfway there, I tell myself it’s not too late to turn back, but then I hear Dom’s little squeal and it lures me down the hall and tentatively inside the open door. I give a passing knock as I step inside and Elise and Mia look up at me.
“Oh, hey, Vince,” Mia greets, warmly, shifting Dom in her arms.
“Hey. Lily said you guys were up here.”
Elise spreads something out on the table and pats the surface, telling Mia, “Just pick which style you like and I’ll personalize them for all the kids.” Then she walks around the table and heads over to check on her new baby in the bassinet across the room.
I drift over and take a peek at what they’re doing. Various designs of tags are spread out with little bunnies, carrots, eggs, and various Easter-themed décor.
“We’re taking care of the final touches on Easter baskets for the kids.”
I nod at Dom. “Does he get a basket?”
“He does. I’m sure he won’t care about it, but of course he’ll get one.” She nuzzles her face against him and gives him a kiss. “We can’t leave you out, huh?”
Dom grins and looks over at me. “Carly makes Thanksgiving baskets. They’re a little less kid-friendly, though.”
Mia smiles. “Oh yeah?”
“Mine was, anyway.”
She flushes slightly, but maintains her smile. “I bet.”
Realizing how that sounded given her blush, I correct her. “Oh, I didn’t mean… It just had whiskey in it. Wild Turkey…”
“Clever.”
I smile faintly at the memory. “She certainly thought so.”
“I really do like her,” Mia tells me.
“She likes you, too. I didn’t expect you to like one another. I think your opinion of Jessica set my expectations.”
Mia rolls her eyes. “Ugh, Jessica. I did not like her. I hate calling people gold diggers, but she basically advertised herself as one. Also, how could anyone sleep with your awful father for any dollar amount?” Her eyes suddenly widen and she claps a hand over her mouth. “Oh, crap, I forgot. I’m sorry, he just died.”
I wave her off. “Please. I didn’t care.”
“Maybe it hasn’t hit you yet.”
I shake my head. “No, I think I just don’t care. He was awful, you’re not wrong. I’m glad he never met Dom. He didn’t deserve to meet him.”
Unlike Carly, Mia does not call me out on my clear hypocrisy. Mia nods her vehement agreement, almost like she doesn’t even understand the parallel between us. It’s comforting, though. I don’t mind Carly calling me on my shit, she keeps me a little more honest, but Mia’s unquestioning acceptance and forgiveness certainly feels nice, too. Because of those qualities, I can lean in and play with the baby she shouldn’t have been forced to have, and she can smile and hold his other hand like we’re just friendly exes.
“Are you guys doing photos with Maddie?” Elise asks, cradling her own little bundle as she walks over to us.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Mia says, shaking her head.
“What photos? Who’s Maddie?” I ask.
“Salvatore’s sister. She’s a photographer; she’s coming over to take Easter photos of the kids,” Elise explains.
“Uh oh.” Mia looks over at Elise. “I hope she doesn’t try to flirt with Rafe again. Laurel might get mad.”
“That guy,” Elise says, shaking her head. “Are his man parts coated in chocolate or something?”
I grimace, recalling the conversation I just ran away from. “Can we not talk about Rafe’s sex life? Every woman in this house is obsessed. I’m ready to go hang out with Mateo just to get away from it.”
Mia snickers. “Sorry, Vince. Was Laurel giving a performance review?”
“Yes, and apparently my girlfriend and her sister learned girl talk in a locker room.”
Elise grins. “Sorry to burst your bubble of Morelli chauvinism, but yeah, women talk about sex, too.”
I shake my head. “You didn’t hear them. I can’t repeat the things I heard.”
Mia pats my shoulder in mocking support. “It’ll be okay, Vince. Get it all out.”
“Go get him a sopapilla, he’ll be right as rain.”
“I need to pick a tag first. Vince, which one do you like best?”
I don’t especially care about basket tags, but when Mia picks one up to show Dom, he stops chewing his hand and vibrates with excitement at the sight of the Easter bunny. Seeing his enthusiasm softens my attitude toward the stupidity of spending any amount of time picking out a paper tag and I look over them, pointing to the one I like best. Dom clutches it, crumpling it in his tiny fist. No one’s getting that one back now.