Plates and bowls of food ran from the beginning of the counter to the end of it, and the bigger bowls were set in the darkest corners, for the fresh bread to rise. Eva and her husband, Gabriel, had decided to visit, along with their children, who were with the other older kids in the pool.
Eva and I had a craving for fresh bread and butter, so we decided to make a few batches.
As Eva had said, “Making fresh bread is good for the soul.”
“But not for the waistline!” Juliette added.
The women all laughed. All but Violet, who had mimicked her words and then laughed to herself, almost mockingly. At least she had complimented me on the vintage 90s jeans I’d brought out to show everyone.
It wasn’t because I was showing off my more relaxed clothes, either. It was because I couldn’t believe anything from the 90s was consideredvintage.
Things between us was not the same, though, and I found that we were still in the middle of an awkward dance, still attempting to break the ice that time and distance had put between us.
In time things would be normal, I hoped. My fear was that they would decide to leave before we could chip away the last piece. I loved Violet like a sister, and my heart gave a hard pang at the thought of being separated from her and her family again.
Speaking of sisters…
Mine had decided to drop by with her family, along with my mother and father. Marciano gave her son, who was around his age, a contemptuous look, about to bop him on the head. He had run inside straight from the pool, ringing wet, followed by his au pair.
I caught Marciano’s fist before it came down on his cousin’s head, giving him a stern look and telling him to be nice. He scrunched up his nose and smiled at me, the picture of adorable innocence, causing me to hide my face in his neck while silently laughing.
He sighed and rested his head on my shoulder, one arm holding his stuffed owl, his fingers interlaced with the cross around my neck, while the other became tangled in my hair, those little fingers tickling my scalp.
Marciano loved to swim as much as his sister and brothers, but he got water in his ear, which led to an ear infection. So I had my very own monkey clinging to me almost all day and all night. He didn’t like to be far from me when he didn’t feel well. None of my children did.
He was showing a little animosity toward the other children since he wanted to be out swimming and running around with them. Especially since my sister’s youngest kept sticking his tongue out at him, egging him on. His name was CJ, short for Connor Joseph, but it was more appropriate for Charlotte, Junior. He was the spitting image of my sister in terms of behavior.
Adjusting Marciano on my hip, I walked over to the window in the kitchen that overlooked the yard, wanting to keep an eye on my pride,Papàlion included. Loosening Marciano’s heel from the pit of my stomach—he had wrapped his legs around me, and one heel dug in too hard—I tilted to the side a bit to get a better view.
Mia and Livia were huddled close, walking toward the house, Ruby and a guard behind them. Matteo and Mariano were standing close to Brando, watching and listening while he gesticulated toward the boat, some of the men nodding their heads while the others looked at what he pointed at. He had wrapped his head in a handkerchief and gone sans shirt and shoes. Ray-Bans shielded his eyes from the blinding sun, but his skin still caught the light, shimmering like polished bronze.
“What datPapàsayin’?” Marciano asked. His voice reminded me of a croaking bull frog. The ear infection had triggered a cough, and his throat was tender.
“I don’t know for sure, my baby,” I said, kissing his temple. God, he smelled good. Just like his father. “The men are talking about the boat.”
“Catch fishy?”
I made anmmhmnoise, patting his back, realizing I had started to rock him from side to side unconsciously. It wasn’t the boat or the sight of my husband, though, that had stolen my attention. It was the interaction between my husband and our first-born son.
There was an awareness between them that hadn’t been there before. Matteo seemed to realize that one day he'd grow into his father's shoes. Brando seemed to realize that he’d once been that small.
Matteo, though still cautious, had developed somewhat of an awed eye, while Brando pretended not to notice but certainly had.
Father and son both treaded on thin ice around each other.
When Brando wasn’t looking, I noticed that Matteo would watch him and then make subtle changes—straightening his shoulders like his father or running a hand through his hair in a similar fashion. He even went as far as coming to me wanting to have his hair “cut shorter underneath with more on top,” which was the way his father still styledhishair. Brando had always worn his hair in an undercut, even if the style of “the top” had changed over the years.
When Matteo wasn’t looking, Brando seemed to marvel at him, at how young he was, and how he must’ve looked and behaved like Matteo did once upon a time. “Was I ever that young?” he’d say to me, close to sharing a private thought. It always came out murmured.
Brando had never been just a boy. It almost seemed like a foreign concept to him that his children had the right to be what he couldn’t. And since Mariano had become Matteo’s shadow, both boys stepped into their father’s. The struggle came in finding the balance between what Brando was comfortable with and what he wasn’t, as far as what a man should or shouldn’t do. He wanted them to be boys, but then again, he also wanted them to grow into honorable men.
“Oh,” I whispered, almost sighing. I kissed Marciano’s temple again, resting my cheek against his soft hair. “That’s it, Brando.”
Brando had reached out, slow but steady, and put his hand on Matteo’s neck. He did the same to Mariano, who more comfortably stepped into his touch. Max circled them, his tail wagging.
The spell broke a few moments later when a humongous splash, followed by a stream ofahhhs!, erupted around the pool. At the same time, Matteo stepped out of his touch, and Brando let go.
“What am I going to do with you two?” I whispered to myself, adjusting the solid boy on my hip.
