Anna put it down with pride and continued to mix in colors until the page had nearly no white left. Very accurate.
“So how long did you date this girl?” Molly asked.
“I took her on our first date when we were thirteen. She broke up with me right after we turned eighteen, so five years that first time,” I explained, chuckling at Antonio rolling crayons around his page, putting together as accurate a portrait of his uncle as his sister had.
“That’s a long time for being so young. Luca said that you guys broke up because she asked you to pick between her and the family?” Molly asked, a point of judgment in her voice.
“Well, she asked me to pick between her and the life,” I replied, “but, you know. The two are one and the same around here.”
“No truer words,” Molly said. “I don’t get it. If she doesn’t want to be involved, why did she date you for five years?”
It was a difficult concept for Molly to grasp after having gone from being a kidnap victim to grasping Luca’s world by the reins to the point that she rivaled him in position and reputation. My mom had never taken the front-seat driver position that Molly took when she fell for Luca. Molly was headstrong, wanted to make herself useful, and found that she had something of a knack for being a straight-up Mob Queen. She could crack the whip on grown-ass men like she had her degree in that, not the culinary arts. She ran the drug tunneling branch of our business and still found time to be a wife and mother. To say she was a superwoman would be an understatement. Still, it kept her from seeing how someone else would struggle to do what she had done so easily. For her, loving Luca meant accepting the organization. It was a different school of thought.
“She’s in a unique situation,” I explained. “Her dad worked for my dad since she was very young. When she wa
s thirteen, my dad settled a personal matter in the way that my dad did, but there was bad blood between them, so he got sloppy. In the end, there wasn’t any way for them to get out clean, and someone had to take the fall. That person was Willow’s dad.”
“Wow, that is rough,” Molly responded. “I guess I can see it, then. She was already into you, but then this huge thing happened. She tried to forget it, but by the time she got to college, she realized there was no other way.”
“Pretty much.”
“Well, your dad was going to shoot me directly in the face for saying some mean things about him on the internet, so you’ll have to excuse me if I bond with her over what a fucking dick he was.” She seethed the last bit through her teeth.
“Go for it,” I said with a smile. “She’d welcome it, I’m sure.”
There were times I wished that Willow would share that philosophy; what you see is what you get, dings and all. If she was even half-willing to come around to the idea of my family’s business, we’d be in good shape. She didn’t have to dive into the deep end like Molly did, but she could have a passive acceptance.
But then I would think about this rose and its thorns and realize that any sane person would shy away from it. It worked out for Luca that Molly was so willing to take the bull by its horns, but the fact that she was might have been a red flag to someone else. The side of Willow that refused to get anywhere near our world was the human side of her, and it was beautiful. It helped me remember that I wasn’t always standing behind bulletproof glass.
“Da!” Antonio shouted.
“Hey, bud!” Luca walked over and kissed Antonio on the head and then went over to Anna and gave her one as well. “Hi, baby. This is a nice picture.”
“Unco Sandro,” she replied, and Luca snorted.
“It certainly is.” He gave her another kiss and then put a hand on my head and ruffled it like some sort of proud dad. “Hey.”
“Hi,” I replied.
He turned around and walked over to Molly, looking over her shoulder at what she was cooking. “Smells amazing.”
“Thank you. Want a taste?” she offered sweetly.
“Rude and disrespectful,” I griped as she held a spoon up to Luca’s mouth. “You poked at me with a knife.”
“Yeah, well, your brother’s good in bed,” she replied.
“Okay,” I grumbled back.
Luca came and sat down at the table, at the head seat where my dad used to sit, and started flicking through his phone. “How’s your research going?” he asked.
“Good,” I responded. “I should have some solid information in a few days. I’m waiting on a couple of deliveries.” Deliveries was one of the code words we used for receiving information from an informant.
“Excellent. I’m thinking—”
“Ah!” Molly snapped. “No work talk at the table.”
Luca held up a hand. “Sorry, beautiful.” He looked at me. “We’ll talk later.”