“We’re almost late. You better hustle.” I point up the staircase, praying he’ll drop the subject because the boy is always hungry. “Ma probably already has the food on the table.”
Vinnie glances up the stairs, lifting his face in the air, and inhales. “Sausage,” he says with a smile. “My favorite. I’ll race you.”
He looks like the little kid I loved so much as he dashes up the stairs. When he was younger, everything was a competition, and I mean everything. He always wanted to be the fastest at everything he did. Usually, we let him win because he was faster than the rest of us. By the time he was sixteen, there was no competition anymore, but that didn’t stop Vinnie from trying.
Vinnie flings the door open, and it crashes against the wall and almost smacks him in the face as it swings back.
“Jesus,” my mother mutters as she carries the casserole of sausage, peppers, and potatoes toward the dining room.
“Sorry, Ma. It just smells so damn good, I couldn’t stop myself.”
“Well, slow down, Speed Racer.”
“Who?” Vinnie asks as he scratches the side of his head and follows my mom and the food into the dining room.
Angelo’s already in his favorite spot in the living room, arm flung across the back of the couch, looking relaxed. “Hey.” He ticks his chin at me. “Have a good night off?”
I run my fingers along the back of the couch but can’t bring myself to look him in the eye. “It was relaxing. How was Vinnie last night?”
“He was Vinnie.”
“Busy?”
“Packed.”
“Hey. Hey,” Lucio says as he carries Lulu into the living room and sits down next to Angelo.
“Where’s Dee?” I ask, glancing around the living room, expecting to see her cheerful face.
Lucio pitches his head toward the bedrooms. “In Ma’s office, coloring with the kids.” He bounces Lulu in his lap, peppering her face and neck with kisses and making her laugh.
Delilah is such a good mom, and she’s scoring brownie points in the aunt department. I’m failing miserably at spending time with my niece and nephew, especially after I promised I’d be there for them after they lost their mother.
“I have to go see them,” I say before making my way down the narrow hallway. Their tiny voices fill the hall, and I watch through the small crack in the door as the three of them color.
“Do you think Daddy will ever find us another mommy?” Tate, my niece, asks Delilah.
I clutch my chest and plaster my back against the wall, fighting the tears that are threatening to fall. I can’t imagine losing my mother now and I’m a full-grown woman, but Tate and Brax have experienced that kind of loss at such a young age.
“Oh, sweetie,” Delilah says in a soothing tone. “No one can ever replace your mommy.”
“I know.” Tate’s voice is almost a whisper. “But Daddy’s so sad all the time, Auntie Dee.”
Tate sounds wise beyond her years. In a way, she’s been robbed of a happy childhood and has been forced to grow up a little faster than most kids.
“Mama,” Brax says in his deep, little-man voice.
“She’s not here,” Tate tells him sternly. “She’s never coming back.”
I gasp and cover my mouth, hoping no one heard me. I’m devastated by her words.
“Come here, big man,” Delilah says as I peer around the corner, watching them again.
Tate is standing at her side, holding three crayons in her hand with the other arm wrapped around Dee’s back. Brax has his face buried in Delilah’s hair and his thick arms snaked around her neck, hugging her.
Delilah looks down at Tate and smiles. “Tate, your mommy’s always with you. She watches over you two every day, every moment.”
Tate looks around the room, no doubt trying to find her mommy. “I don’t see her.”
