My brain wrestled with what to tackle first. “I didn’t receive an invite.”
“Impossible. I made sure to send it to Gabriel’s address, priority mail. I couldn’t rely on Dante to remember to hand it over. The man can barely be classified as an adult. I’m not sure how you all put up with him.”
Priority mail didn’t ensure that the postal service could get their act together. I’d trust Dante over them any day of the week. The invite was probably languishing somewhere in a stuffy mail room, yet to start its journey.
“You know I don’t believe in God, right?” I reminded her, watching Franco try to wrestle the stick from Cerb’s mouth without much success.
Carmen hissed out a breath between her teeth. “We won’t mention that to Father Baker.”
“You want me to lie in church?”
“It probably won’t be the worst offense on the rap sheet,” she mused. “You’re not about to tell me no, are you? Luc will have the religious guidance down, so you don’t need to worry about any of that. Just agree as a matter of formality.”
“Luc?” My mouth went dry.
“Yes. We asked him to be the boys’ Godfather months ago. Emil wouldn’t let anyone else have a look in.”
I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes. “Carmen, I don’t think that’s the best plan. Luc and I aren’t exactly on talking terms yet.” I had hoped that we’d be able to make some headway the next time we spoke. No matter how difficult it was, I was determined to tell him the truth and clear the air, but Carmen’s event was not the setting for all that to happen. “I’m not sure having both of us together at the christening would give you the day you want.”
“You’re both adults, Mia. I expect you to behave as such.” Carmen’s tone made me feel like I was a child being scolded by my mother. “You’ve managed not to kill each other, so that’s some progress.” If any other person had said that, it would have been taken with a pinch of salt, but here it was genuine progress.
“Do I have a choice?” I asked her eventually.
“Absolutely not. You owe me.”
“You know I’ve acquired a shadow, right?” Even though Franco maintained some distance most of the time, it still felt suffocating having someone watch my every move with such intensity.
“I thought as much when I heard you’d moved in with a Moretti. I’ll account for him. Who is it? Paulo? He’s a sweet boy.”
“Franco.”
“Oh. Well, at least he won’t say much.”
I snorted. “As long as I’m not going to be turned away at the door for bringing an uninvited guest.”
“Of course not,” she said. “And it would be pointless turning him away. It’s his job to keep an eye on you, so he’ll find a way no matter what I say.”
“I don’t know how you do it, Carmen. Don’t you ever want a break from Gio? Don’t you get fed up of being watched?”
“Sometimes,” she said quietly. “And then I remind myself that it’s for my own good. To keep me safe.”
“Franco’s not been assigned to keep me safe,” I sighed. “He’s here to make sure I don’t run again and to keep an eye and report back to Gabe on every single move.”
As the sentence leaves my lips something started to eat away at me. Gabe had been dictating my moves to fit with his and when he couldn’t do that, he’d been watching me like a hawk. If Carmen had sent the invite to this house, then there was every chance that it had been kept from me.
“Carmen, I need to go. I’ll speak to you soon,” I told her, getting up from my seat.
“I’ll see you Sunday?” she asked, her mind focused on the christening.
“I wouldn’t miss it.” Even if I hadn’t planned on attending, even if I was leaving myself open to more judgement and a messy run in with Luc, I wasn’t about to sit back and let them continue to plan my life around me while I was a complacent bystander.
Cutting the call, I walked back into the house. Gabe had retired to his study after dinner claiming he had work to do. I would bet good money that he was still in there. There was no courtesy of a knock when I reached the room, instead, I let my anger propel me through the door. Gabe looked up from the laptop, lock of blonde hair falling across his forehead. “Mia, can I help you with something?”
“Where is it?”
“You’ll need to clarify,” he said, closing the lid of the laptop. Whatever he was working on could apparently wait.
“The invite,” I spat out. It frustrated me, the way he leaned back in his chair in the same manner his father would. “I just spoke to Carmen and she said—”
