“Ant nee!” Luca said holding his hand high.
Shock registered in his eyes as he glanced over his shoulder at me. “He knows my name?”
Shit.
“Well, of course he knows your name. I wanted him to know who sends him random presents all the time.”
“Ant nee!” My son wailed for his attention still holding his hand up high.
“High five buddy,” Anthony said, placing his palm to Luca’s little one igniting a fit of giggles from him. I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat at the scene unfolding before me. The last memory I have of Anthony and my son was the night he was born, a night carved inside of my heart that I often replay in my head. I’ve held onto that one memory for almost two years never expecting to have another to add to my play list. I don’t know which moment touched me more, watching Anthony hold my newborn son in his arms or watching him interact with my little boy who was so receptive of his attention.
Luca stretched his arms outward reaching for Anthony and without any hesitation, he took my son from his sister and held him high above his head. Luca giggled as he looked down at a smiling Anthony and I couldn’t stop my eyes from tearing.
I pleaded with myself not to cry but I couldn’t stop the lone tear that slipped from the corner of my eye. Luca’s laughter filled the tiny kitchen and made my heart swell to the point that I thought it would burst. The fryer started to beep signaling that the oil was too hot and pulled me away from the pretty picture Anthony painted with my son. I turned around and lowered the temperature, thankful for the distraction. I didn’t know how much longer I could watch the man I had loved and lost but still loved so much play with my son.
“I was starting to think you wouldn’t show,” Lauren said as Anthony set Luca down on the kitchen table, still holding him by his waist.
“I’m glad I did,” he said lowly. “You going to give your brother a hug or what?”
I didn’t have to turn around to know that Lauren threw her arms around Anthony. When we were younger, Lauren idolized him and when he went away, she was heartbroken.
“I missed you so fucking much,” she whispered. “Shit, sorry about the f-bomb A.”
I laughed, turning around and winked at her. “I’m sure he hears me say worse. Why don’t I take Luca inside so you two can catch up?” I asked, walking towards them and held out my hands for my son.
“Mama,” he said, reaching for me. Anthony leaned against the back of the chair making room for me to slip in front of him and lift Luca into my arms. I felt his eyes on me and my body instantly heated as his hand brushed the side of my hip. I glanced down at him and the bastard winked at me. I narrowed my eyes at him for a moment thinking he couldn’t really be playing with me. I hadn’t heard from him in a month and now he winked at me? I wanted to dip his head in the deep fryer. I grabbed my baby and brushed passed him, making my way into the living room where it was safe.
“You’re pathetic,” Lauren gibed behind me, as I kept my eyes trained on Adrianna’s ass watching her do what she does best and walk away from me. I shouldn’t complain since I’m the one who taught her to walk away. I let out a sigh when she was out of my sight and turned to my little sister who apparently grew some balls.
“Did you call me pathetic?” I asked as I scratched the top of my head.
“Yeah, I did,” she said, crossing her arms as she narrowed her eyes and peered at me.
“You set me up,” I said, pointing a finger at her.
“So what,” she shrugged off. “If you weren’t so pathetic I wouldn’t have had to.” She smirked.
“Slow down the insults. Don’t you have any love left for your brother?” I sighed grabbing the can of soda she reached for and claimed it as my own.
“I have a lot of love left for my brother. That’s why I feel it’s my duty to let you know that you better pull that head of yours out of your ass.”
“When did you get so spunky? I mean you were such a shy fucking kid, afraid of your own shadow and all that.”
“I grew up. You should try it big brother,” she said, pulling up the seat next to me and then she did something that surprised me, she took my hand in hers and squeezed it tightly. “You know I love you right?” She asked me sincerely. The thing about my sister and me is that neither of us were the type to speak how we felt. We had an understanding, she knew I loved her, would do anything for her, and I knew she loved me just the same. Neither of us needed to express it verbally. Apparently until now.