He only grins in answer, handing over the money before rolling the dice for his turn. I add it to my pathetically small pile on my side of the board. At this rate, I’ll be bankrupt in the next three turns.
Emmanuel passes go and collects his two hundred dollars, then hands me the dice to roll. I roll them. Snake eyes. Of course. I move my little metal dog two spaces and land on one of Emmanuel’s properties. “Mediterranean Avenue. How much?”
He holds up his fingers. Four hundred dollars.
“Highway robbery,” I joke, smiling as I count out the paper bills. “When this is over, you’re going to have to teach me your secrets. How does one get this good at Monopoly anyway?”
He shrugs and signs, “Papa taught me. He says business is about knowing when to invest and when to hold onto your assets.”
Of course, Basili would teach his son business strategy through board games. It makes sense, honestly. I don’t know why that would surprise me.
“He’s a smart man, your papa.”
Emmanuel nods his agreement enthusiastically, then reaches for the dice. He rolls a seven, counts out the spaces, and —
“Yes!”
The word bursts out of him, clear and triumphant, as he pumps his fist in the air. His game piece lands onFree Parking,where all the pooled money is won.
I freeze. He freezes.
We stare at each other across the board, his eyes wide with shock, his hand still hovering over the pile of money in the center of the board.
He spoke. He actually spoke.Not a whisper or a mumble but an actual word, loud and clear. Completely spontaneous.
He averts his eyes, bashful, realizing the same thing I have. His eyes are filled with moisture, and I can’t tell if they’re happy or scared.
I crawl around the board and wrap him in a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”
He hugs me back, his small arms wrapping around my waist, his face buried in my shoulder. I feel him sniffling quietly, and I just hold him, rocking gently.
“It’s okay,” I murmur. “You’re okay. There’s no pressure to keep talking if you’re not ready to, but I’m still proud of you.”
After a long moment, he pulls back and looks at me. His hands moved slowly in sign. “It just… slipped out.”
“That’s ok. That’s how it happens sometimes. Your brain was ready, even if you didn’t know it yet.”
I brush hair back from his forehead. “I know that was a lot for you; do you want to take a break? I think I’m ready to admit defeat.”
I can’t wait to tell Basili!
Emmanuel smiles and nods, moving out of my embrace to start picking up the game pieces. I help him get it all together and back in the box, though, he insists on organizing all the money and property cards himself.
I sit back on my heels, my heart still fluttering with excitement. He spoke. Because he was happy, and it came out naturally. This is huge. It’s everything. Basili needs to know.
“I’m going to go see if Maria made any cookies. Want to come?” He signs to me after I put the board back in the curio against the wall.
“You go ahead; I have some things to take care of.”
I practically run through the house, checking for Basili in his office first. It’s empty. I try the library next, then the main sitting room, I even peek into the formal dining room we never use. But he’s not there either.
Voices drift from down the hallway — male voices, speaking in low tones. I follow the sound to a side room I’ve never been in before. The door is slightly ajar, and I’m about to knock when I catch a snippet of their conversation.
“The Triad is insistent.” That’s Omero’s voice. “They want the alliance, and they’re willing to offer significant territory concessions to make it happen.”
I freeze.
“I don’t trust Delan Tao as far as I can throw him,” Basili answers, cold and business-like. “The man is a snake.”
