"You look different," I say, holding her at arm's length so I can study her. I glance down and see a sparkly diamond on her left hand. My eyebrows shoot up. "Very different."
She laughs and pulls me toward Don Calabresi. "We have so much to tell you."
"So," I say, accepting a glass of champagne from a passing server and looking around at our gathered family, "what have I missed around here since last Christmas?"
The question triggers a collective groan followed by bursts of laughter from the guests.
It’s like they have an inside joke I’m not privy to.
"Where do we even start?" Roman, Don Calabresi’s right-hand man and enforcer, says.
"FBI meetings," Gabriella says with a roll of her eyes.
"Ambushes," Don Calabresi adds.
"Traitors in our midst," my father contributes.
My brow furrows at that. A traitor?
"Shotgun weddings," Don Calabresi says with a smirk, sliding his arm around my sister’s waist. I raise an eyebrow at that.
"And babies," Gabriella finishes, pressing her hand over her stomach.
My eyes widen and I’m sure I look like I’ve been bowled over. "All since last Christmas? I leave for one year and the entire world turns upside down?"
"Welcome home, Brother. You've got a lot of catching up to do,” Gabriella says.
“I guess I do.” I shift my gaze to Elena, who turns away. And so it begins.
“Wait?” Don Vitale’s voice cuts through the crowd. “Did Marco say shotgun wedding?”
I whip my head back to my sister.
My father holds up his champagne class. “I’m happy to announce the engagement of my daughter, Gabriella, to Don Marco Calabresi, and the impending birth of their first child.”
Holy shit. Of all the things I’ve missed, my sister and Marco Calabresi getting married is the one I’d have never guessed.
“First? How many will they have?” I ask with a wink to Gabriella.
“Four. Maybe five,” she says. Marco looks a little pale at that but smiles.
Congratulations fill the air, and I’m happy for my sister, even as I glance again at Elena and acutely feel the loss of what we could have had.
I push the pain and anger away and mingle with the guests.
I see my father out in the foyer looking a little lost, so I go to check on him. He’s staring at the front door like he’s expecting someone.
“Hey, Pops, everything okay?” I ask.
He startles and then turns to me. “Oh, Luca, yes, yes, just wondering when your mother will get here. She always loves the Christmas party.”
For a moment, I’m confused. My mom is dead. She has been for some time. “You mean, Gabriella? She’s in the?—”
“Maybe she went up to rest.” My father’s gaze turns to the stairs.
I study him, and then I see what Gabriella has been trying to tell me.
He’s here, but not completely present.
