“I will,” I promise, still weeping. I run back down the hall to where Junior’s waiting for me and take his hand.
And then my brain just sort of shuts off. Because I can’t wait the five hours until we get there. And I can’t think about anything else.
Fortunately, Junior seems to understand. Is totally capable in this situation. He drives the Maserati like we’re in the Daytona 500 and gets us the hell out of Illinois.
* * *
Junior
Desiree’s ex picked up a construction job in Indianapolis under some other guy’s social security number. I don’t know how the P.I.s found him, but they did. Jasper seems to be fine—enrolled in kindergarten. Stays for aftercare. Gets picks up and dropped off on the regular. No signs of mistreatment.
Thank fuck.
And I’m still going to kill the figlio di puttana father.
No, not kill. Desiree doesn’t want that. But I’m sure as hell gonna teach him a fucking lesson. Nobody messes with someone I care about without serious consequences.
My plan is to get to the school before Jasper gets picked up, but we get hung up in traffic on the way out of the city, so I don’t think we’ll get there before five.
On the way, my phone rings. It’s Nico.
“Hey, little bro.”
“Not little,” he claims.
“That’s not what your wife says.”
If he were talking to one of our other brothers, he’d tell me where to fuck myself, but as oldest, I’ve always demanded the same respect from my brothers they give our pops, so he just grunts.
“You’re on speaker and Desiree’s in the car,” I warn, in case he was going to talk business. We’re careful about what we say on phones, anyway, but it’s worth telling him.
“Hi, Desiree.”
“Hi.” She turns to me and whispers, “Which brother is it?”
“It’s Nico,” I tell her.
“Yeah, Nico. Sorry. I just talked to Gio. He sounds good.”
“Yes, looks like he’ll make a—”
“Not over the phone,” I cut her off.
She snaps her lips shut. “Right.”
“What’s up?” I bark at Nico. It’s not like him to call to chit-chat.
“Listen, I uh, have some news.”
“What news?” I’m already grouchy. I don’t like news. It’s never good. And Nico sounds nervous to tell me.
“Sondra and I are, uh...well, she’s pregnant.”
My stomach draws up under my ribs into a tight knot. I can’t breathe. This is good news. This should be good news he’s telling me.
Why does it feel like I just got sucker-punched?
“Oh yeah?” I force myself to speak. “Congratulations. How far along?”
“About twelve weeks.”
“Twelve weeks. Wow, you waited to tell people, uh?”
“Yeah. Well, Stefano knew, but we’re just telling the rest of the family now. I don’t know if it’s hard for you—”
“Shut up, Nico.” I cut him off, angry by his suggestion, even though it’s spot on. Maybe because it’s spot on. “Go give your wife a kiss from me. On the cheek, of course. Tell her congratulations and I can’t wait to meet my new niece or nephew, uh?”
“Okay, I’ll do that.” Nico sounds relieved. The fucker was worried about calling me. I don’t know why that pisses me off, too. Like people expect me to implode over a new baby in the family.
Just because I lost the only one this family’s had. You’d think out of five siblings, my ma would be wading in grandchildren, but to her sorrow, that hasn’t been the case.
“Congratulazioni, Nico. Ma’s gonna be over the moon.”
“Yeah, I know. You wanna tell Dad?”
“No, tell him yourself.”
“He still pissed at me?”
“If he was pissed, you’d know it. Have you not talked to him since you got married?” Last year Nico defied our father’s order to marry a girl from the Pachino family in a contract that was meant to tie the families and businesses together. It was my job to teach him a lesson for his disobedience.
Which kept me solidly in the position of most hated brother.
“No.”
“Call him up. All is forgiven. You paid the price, and it’s settled. I’m sorry you didn’t know that.”
“Yeah, well, things get lost in translation between the two of you sometimes.”
“Yeah and you’re pushing your luck, stronzo. You already got an apology out of me. Mark it on the calendar so we can remember this day in history.”
A surprised laugh comes out of Nico. I almost smile myself. It’s unheard of—me, making fun of myself.
Desiree slides a glance my way and her lips quirk, too. Her gaze is soft and warm, like she knows everything the conversation means to me and is sending me her support. This woman is something else.
As Nico hangs up, I reach over and squeeze her knee in a silent thank you.
* * *
Desiree
My stomach twists in knots the whole drive, hands ice cold. First, I couldn’t think at all, but as we pull into Indianapolis, a million thoughts swirl through my head. The major underlying anxiety runs along the lines of—what if he’s not there? What if we haven’t really found him? Or can’t take him when we get there?