“Like what, boss?” Sinclaire chuckled.
Claudius straightened. “Don’t call me that. It doesn’t suit you, and I would never have you work for me.”
I rolled my eyes at him. He was such a prick sometimes, but speaking of who suited what, my brother definitely suited the part of Don to the Chicago mafia.
“Not even if I got you those cigars you like?”
Claudius squinted. “Cough it up, cop, and we’ll see.”
“Nah, you have to beat me in poker first.” Sinclaire smirked.
“You’re on.”
Just then, the door to the sunroom opened, and Amelia stuck her head out.
A bright smile washed over her face as she looked at me holding Raphael.
“It’s Mama, Papa.” Raphael beamed, stretching his little hands out to her.
She glided over to us, took him, and gave me a kiss.
“Why is there mud all over the baby?” She winced.
“Blame your boy over there.” Maurice pointed his finger at Sinclaire.
“Hey, kids love dirt. Plus, didn’t you know a good mud bath is excellent for the skin?” Sinclaire answered with a mischievous smile.
“Bullshit.” Claudius smirked.
“Claudius,language,” Amelia chided.
“Sorry.” He smiled. “Bull poop.”
Amelia rolled her eyes and looked back to me. “Should we do dinner?”
“Let’s. They won’t have our amazing food all summer.” We were leaving for Italy in a few days. “Maurice, you’re up.”
Amelia handed Raphael to Maurice.
“Hey, no, my turn.” Gigi rushed out the door and took Raphael.
“Unfair, but I won’t argue.” Maurice chuckled.
“Thank you, dear.” Gigi bubbled away, going back into the house with Raphael.
“Happy wife, happy life.” Maurice nodded. The two had been married for a year now.
Amelia took my hand and pulled me away from the guys just as Sinclaire laid out his deck of cards.
When we got inside the kitchen, she grabbed a pack of fresh pasta, and I took it from her.
“I’m cooking. You’re watching.”
“We saidwe.” She giggled.
“Yes, so I could have you all to myself.”
“So, I’m just going to watch you cook?”
