Mia rocked in her seat, her helmet bobbing with the motion, making excited noises at the piece of watermelon in her grip. Sometimes she carried on conversations with inanimate objects. For her age, she was extremely verbal. She could say Mamma,Papà(Apà), cheese (more like eese), Mia (Ia), me (Eeee), duck (uckie), and so many other words. She could also match them in other languages.
She made ahahhahnoise, rocking herself, thrilled with her treat. She glanced up at me, big eyes glistening in the evening sun, casting golden flecks inside the green.
“Apà,” she smiled, showing off two top teeth and two bottoms, scrunching up her nose. Then she offered me a bite.
She squealed when I pretended to be a beast. I growled and stole it from her sticky fingers with my mouth. I handed her another piece, and she did it again. The next time she stuck it in her mouth, shaking her head.
“Eeee.” She pointed to herself, watermelon juice running down her chin. “Ia.”
I wiped her forehead, kissing her there. “Mia’s watermelon,” I said in Italian.“Mia.Mia.Mia.” I tried to put emphasis on themmmsound.
“Ia.” She nodded. Then she turned around, making sure her Mamma wasn’t too far behind. Scarlett was on her own bike. She had stopped to talk to Juliette. Ruby, our Doberman, stood next to her, not leaving her side for a second.
My brothers had decided to come along this evening, each strapped with a child not old enough to ride alone, their wives next to them.
Mia threw her head back. “Hah hah!” She mimicked her mamma, who was laughing at something Juliette had said to her. Probably about Romeo and Angelo. The boy had Romeo’s hair, even more of it, and he wore sunglasses while he rode around the property, fixing everyone with aI’m cooler than youstare.
Throwing my head back, I laughed so hard that water almost came out of my nose. She was like a little mirror, mimicking everything we did. Other times she was a Myna bird, repeating everything we said. Or trying to.
She threw her head back and laughed, mimicking me this time, her laugh lower, almost raspy, with more base. I tickled her until she squealed again, calling her a parakeet.
“Eet,” she repeated. “Eeeeet!”
“Pa-ra-keet,” I said again, making sure she knew that I didn’t mean eat—her eyes had flared with passion for a second, thinking she was getting dinner again. “Mia isPapà’s little parakeet. A little bird.”
I kissed her, giving her loud Italian smooches all over her cheeks and neck.
“Iss!” she screeched excitedly. “Iss!”
Rocco rolled up to us, Massimo behind him in the baby seat. He and Mia stared at each other for a few seconds before they smiled and made hand gestures at each other, exchanging baby talk.
“This is going to be a fine year,fratello,” Rocco said, examining the trees. “I can already tell.”
“Yeah,” I said, gazing in the same direction. “I believe so too.”
The conversation turned to his grapes, which he grew on his property in Chianti. He was just starting to make wine, but in true Rocco style, he had gone all in. He had grandiose plans. At some point he wanted to give tours of his property to tourists, like the tours he had taken in the California wine country. He even decided to name a red wine after my wife,Scarlatta, incorporating a crimson ballet slipper on the label.
Before our wives caught up to us, I cleared my throat, directing the conversation down another path.
“Vincenzo?” I asked.
Luca had denied all of us the honor of speaking to him. After Scarlett went to see him, trading a favor for a favor, he had stopped speaking to me. But as time went on, he stopped speaking to everyone, and denied all visitors. Except for Ettore, who we assumed he was keeping in touch with. Vincenzo was one of his favorites, so we sent him as our messenger, but Luca denied him too.
“Vincenzo is home,” Rocco said. “As soon as they turned him away, he was back on a plane to Italy.”
“Something’s not right,” I said, and not for the first time. “If he was out, why wouldn’t he have already been in touch?”
Rocco nodded seriously. Then he said one word that made me narrow my eyes. “Aberto.”
“In touch with us,” I corrected.
Aberto had had his heart ripped out right before Mia was born. Maggie Beautiful had been in the same house, and the man who had done it made her listen while Aberto cried out. But she had no clue whether Luca was there or not. After what she’d gone through, I was surprised she was doing as well as she was.
Luca free of bars was not a thought I wanted to even entertain. It led to obsessive thinking. Because the King Lion being set free not only meant that he was able to freely wreak havoc on the world, but at some point, he would be in touch with us. Which meant the same thing.
The last thought made me glance behind. Even the thought of Luca being close gave me the feeling of eyes on my back, and the vulnerable spot at the top of my spine felt exposed, as well as my heart.
Rocco and I both turned toward the trees again, our conversation fading as Scarlett approached on her bike. She had been keeping her hair shorter—easier with Mia, she’d said. She’d covered it in a scarf to keep the pieces from invading her face and sweat from running in her eyes. A few stray auburn waves peeked out anyway.
