“Now you’re just confusing me.”
She sputtered a chortle. “No, I’m trying to tell you it doesn’t matter what I believe or not. It’s about you two.” The phone stabilized as Persetta set it down, putting her elbow and waist in view. “Anyone who tells you otherwise is a jerk.”
“I almost adopted her.”
“But you didn’t. End of story. It’s not an excuse you can use.” A small pair of pants crossed the screen, then disappeared as she folded them. More little clothing followed. “If you don’t care for her, then say it, mean it, and that’ll be that. But if you do, then show her and stand by it. Don’t screw it up.”
“She’s a little pissed at me right now.”
“Don’t tell me. I’d rather not get mad at you.”
“So quick to blame me?”
“You wouldn’t need advice otherwise.”
I huffed in annoyance. “You going to help me or not?”
“I already told you. Show her you care. Show her you think of her. Show her what she means to you. Make her your priority. It might not be easy, but nothing good ever is. Just look at Adrien and me.”
“No, thank you.”
“Maman”, a little voice called. “Je veux uncâlin.” Mom. I want a hug.
Persetta disappeared from view for a few seconds, only to come back up with my four-year-old niece in her arms.
“Renzo, meet Juliette. Juliette, meet yourzio. My brother.” Uncle.
“CommeDominique?” Like Dominique.
“Yes. Dominique is your brother. Renzo is mine.”
Her little hand grappled for the phone, fingers smudging the camera angle. Aside from a baby photo I’d received four years earlier, this was the first time I’d seen my little niece. She had her father’s deep blue eyes and her mother’s black hair, chubby cheeks, and a button nose. The most beautiful little girl I’d ever seen, aside from her mother.
“Ciao bella.” I wiggled my fingers.
“Mio zio.” My uncle. She smiled wide, bouncing in her mother’s arms. Then she pressed her little mouth to the camera with a loud smack.
“Adrien’s been showing them old photo albums of Mammina, you, and me that we picked up from your place two years ago. I thought it’d be the best way for the kids to know you until they could meet you.”
“I’ll come visit once business settles over here.” I waved again at the little girl, and she buried her face in her mother’s neck with a giggle.
“You know…” Persetta caressed her daughter’s hair. “You could have a family of your own.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Don’t lie to yourself.”
“Have to get the girl first.”
“Then do it.” She made it sound so simple.
Persetta’s smile was soft as we said our goodbyes, and the call ended.
“You going to stand there looking at your phone all day, boss”—Vinny slowly stepped down the last few basement stairs—“or you going to take her advice?”
“Great,” I muttered to myself. “How much of that did you hear?”
“Very little I didn’t already know.”
