And this wasn’t the first time.
Last week, it had been ketchup on his shirt. Maggie had been clearing plates, and a chunk of ketchup-covered hash browns from Vin’s plate had found its way onto Anth.
The week before that, it was a grease stain from a rogue piece of bacon that his father had somehow missed.
And it was always the same, oh-my-gosh-I’m-so-sorry routine, and his family would lament the unfortunate “accident” and tell Maggie not to worry about it, even though none of them had basically tripled their laundry efforts since Maggie had taken over their Sunday brunch routine.
“I don’t know why you always have to do that,” Elena snapped at him.
He gave his little sister a dark look. Elena was basically a female version of Luc. Dark brown hair, perfectly proportioned features, and bright blue eyes. His siblings’ good looks had worked very well for them with the opposite sex, but with their brother? Not so much.
“I didn’t do anything,” he snapped.
His mother—his own mother—gave him a scolding look. “You make Maggie nervous, dear. All that glowering.”
“Wait, sorry, hold up,” Anth said, abandoning the futile effort of blotting coffee from his crotch. “It’s my fault that the incompetent woman can’t do even the most basic requirements of her job?”
A startled gasp came from the head of the table, and too late—way too late—Anth realized that Maggie had reappeared with a clean white rag and what seemed to be a full cup of ice.
“I thought…I wanted to make sure it didn’t burn your skin,” she told him brightly.
To her credit, her voice didn’t wobble, and her eyes didn’t water, but damned if she didn’t look like she wanted to cry, just a little.
Shit.
“I’m fine,” he muttered.
“Thank you, sweetie,” Tony said kindly, taking the rag and ice from Maggie. “Maybe just the check when you get a chance.”
“Of course. And really, I’m so sorry,” she said, not quite glancing at Anthony. “You’ll send me the dry-cleaning bill, right?”
“He’ll do no such thing,” his mother said firmly, reaching across her husband to grab Maggie’s hand. “I can get any stain out of any fabric. I’ll take care of it.”
“You hear that, Anth?” Luc said. “Mommy’s going to wash your pants for you!”
Anth shot his brother the bird, wishing his brother’s girlfriend had tagged along for breakfast today. Luc was always much more pleasant when Ava Sims was around. He devoted most of his time figuring out ways to feel up the pretty journalist rather than giving Anthony grief.
“I just can’t believe Mags called you Officer,” Vincent said in a sham reverent tone. “I don’t know how she missed the nine hundred and forty two reminders that you’re a captain now.”
“Well she damn well should remember,” he muttered. “Is anyone else remembering that she spilled iced tea all over me at my coronation party?”
“She spilled it on your shoes,” Elena said. “Which were black.”
“Still,” Anth said, glancing around the room this time to make sure she wasn’t within earshot. “I don’t know why we have to act like she’s a new member of the family when she can’t seem to go a single Sunday without spilling somebody’s breakfast on me. It can’t be an accident every time.”
“Maybe she wants to get your attention. Your humble, enchanting personality is so charming,” Maria Moretti muttered into her coffee cup.
Anth looked at his mother. “Et tu, Brute?”
His mom winked.
And then his dad leaned back in the booth, folded his arms, and glared at his oldest son. “So tell me again what you’re doing to close in on this Smiley character.”
“Oh my God, he’s like a dog with a bone!” Elena said, throwing her arms up in exasperation before turning her attention back to her cell phone. “Also, is Nonna texting anyone else? I’ve been getting mucus reports every five minutes.”
“Yes,” everyone replied at once.