Page 95 of Bobby

My family.

I like the sound of that.

“Nonna!” the girls cry out the second the car stops, and they run to Mama, who’s standing on the top steps waiting to greet us.

“My bambini. How are you?”

“Did you make zeppole?” Lily asks.

“Of course. What kind of nonna would I be if I didn’t? They’re in the kitchen. Go.” She shoos them in, and their laughter fills the house as they run through it.

Willow and I take our time, already knowing that the girls will find nothing but love and safety in these walls.

“My figlia.” Mama is slow to comfort my girl, but something passes between them that I can only imagine is a bond forged in darkness. Willow reached out to her when she had no one else to turn to. And Mama became her true self, caring for those she claims as her own and moving mountains to get things done. Just so happens that those mountains are my brothers and me.

“Mama.” Willow hugs her, and I smile at the tears I see in my mother’s eyes. She notices my smile and swats at me a second before pulling away.

“Roberto, make yourself useful and get your woman a drink. Come. We have much to do.”

Willow looks at me with wide, comical eyes as she’s led away from me, and I follow like a dutiful son. And soon-to-be husband.

I might have noticed the family jeweler’s card on my nightstand when I went to change. No doubt left by Mama. And I might have called and set up an appointment with them for next week.

All my life, I knew how short it could be. The famiglia is many things, including a ticking clock, reminding us with each death that comes to our doorsteps that life is short. Waiting for the perfect moment gets you nothing but what-ifs.

It doesn’t mean you settle. None of my brothers or I have ever rushed into something just to get it over with. We make sure that the thing we want is true. But the moment we have it in our sights, we claim it for good.

Tommy did it with Payton.

I’ll do it with Willow.

And perhaps Vinny will do it with…

What was his fiancée’s name again?

I enter the kitchen, happy to see it’s mostly family and a few kitchen staff. Mama might claim to be cooking, but she has help. Lots of it depending on her mood, and she treats each person who works for her well enough that no one ever complains when she asks them to do some extra cooking last-minute like this. No doubt a Thanksgiving meal wasn’t on my mother’s schedule on Monday, but it is today.

“Hey,” I greet my brothers, and Tommy offers me a glass of wine as I make my way over to them. The four of us stand close while the women and the girls are in the kitchen “helping.”

“Where’s Brittney?” I ask.

Tommy laughs hard, and I see a lip twitch from Danny as well.

Vinny seethes a little. “Bianca.”

“I forgot her name as well,” Tommy sobers enough to say.

“Only family today, yes?” Mama adds, and I look at her, but she keeps her head down as she rolls out pasta noodles. I’ve known the woman all my life. She doesn’t have a meal without fresh pasta noodles, no matter the holiday.

I look back at Vinny. “Fiancées aren’t family?” I don’t even bother correcting Mama that Willow and the girls aren’t family, not legally at least. As far as I’m concerned, they already are.

Vinny shrugs. “Not in Mama’s eyes.”

“Or just not her,” Danny says as he sips his wine. We all note his eyes traveling away from us to look at something, anything but the glare on Vinny’s face.

“She’s perfectly acceptable,” Vinny mutters.

“So is my couch, but you don’t see me sleeping with it,” Tommy says.