I’m late. My dad’s been blowing up my phone for the last thirty minutes, checking in on me. I’m not late for any other reason than I don’t want to be here. Over the past three years, I’ve gotten good at making excuses for missing our extended family get-togethers. There was no getting out of it this time. My mother put her foot down and said she’d rather stay in Mexico than spend Christmas without me.
The thing is, I know how much my mother loves being with her friends on Christmas. I couldn’t not come and make her miss that. Which is why I’m here, holding a bunch of flowers for my Aunt Charlotte and a tiny box in my pocket. A gift for Frankie, because it’s fucking Christmas and I haven’t given her anything yet.
“Nice to see you made it.” Esterio smirks at me as I walk through the Giulianis’ foyer.
“What are you smirking at?” I ask him.
“You’ll see. Hold up.” He stands in front of me, extending a palm. “Papa wants me to strip you. Hand it all over.”
I frown. “What? Why?”
Esterio shrugs. “Just following orders, little brother. Hand it all over.”
I shove the flowers into his chest and he takes them. I then proceed to remove the two guns from the holster under my jacket. Bending down, I remove the small knife strapped to my ankle.
“That’s it?” Esterio asks when I’m done.
“It’s Christmas Eve and we’re with family. What more would I need?” I ask him.
“Nothing.” He smiles wide again before passing me the flowers. “Everyone is out back.”
I follow Esterio to the back deck. The moment I do, I clock herandI clock the reason Esterio took my weapons. She’s got some douchebag sitting next to her. Way too fucking close. I pause. My steps falter.
“Emilio, you’re late,” my father says, snapping me out of my own head.
“Sorry. Traffic was a bitch,” I tell him.
At the sound of my voice, Frankie turns around. Her eyes land on me and I see it. The longing, the want. Her cheeks blush and she quickly turns away.
“Aunt Charlotte, these are for you.” I walk over to my aunt, bend down, and hug her.
“Oh, they’re my favorite. Thank you.” My aunt stands. “I’m going to put these in water.”
“I’ll help you.” I follow her into the kitchen. My mother also gets up and trails behind us.
“You okay?” Mom whispers.
“Mhmm, great. You?” I ask her.
“Emilio, don’t lie to me,” she says.
“It’s not serious,” Aunt Charlotte chimes in.
“What’s not serious?”
“The guy, Kenneth or Kevin or whatever his name is. He’s just a friend,” she explains.
I chuckle. “That’s what she tells you because she wants to keep him breathing.”
“Nope, he’s gay,” Aunt Charlotte insists. “I saw him staring at Hudson for way longer than any straight man would have.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I narrow my eyes.
“Because it’s Christmas Eve, and I don’t want to be cleaning up blood from my dining table.” My aunt stares back at me knowingly.
“You won’t have any problems from me, Aunt Charlotte. I can be civil.” I hold up my hands.
“You have the Lopez temperament, which means if something annoys you or challenges you, you kill it,” Aunt Charlotte counters.