Chapter 34

34

MASON

E veryone was in Brooklyn apparently. I trudged through the fresh snow, blinking into the gray-white glare as I crossed another street, another block, another row of houses.

I’d driven here, of course. I hadn’t taken the subway in years, but I probably should have. Every street was packed with cars. By some miracle, I’d found a parking spot five blocks from Fia’s parents’ house.

The house in question rose up before me as I climbed a set of concrete steps. Christmas music funneled through an open window somewhere around the side of the house, where the driveway was full of cars and the faint scent of cigar smoke spiced the air.

I hadn’t been nervous until this very moment, with my fist raised to knock on the door of Fia and Colin’s childhood home. I cursed under my breath as I reached down to adjust the Christmas sweater Fia bought for me for the event at the library earlier this month. Should I have worn a suit?

“Hey, what are you doing on our stoop?”

I turned to Colin’s voice with a hint of relief, which was quickly squashed when I met his eyes. “I’ve been calling you for three days.”

“It’s Christmas,” Colin said with a shrug from the driveway. “Did the distillery blow up?”

“No.” I started to edge down the steps to meet him in the driveway. This was it. I was telling him I was dating his sister and we were serious. So serious, in fact, that I was planning on proposing to her as soon as possible. Possibly tonight if my heart got the best of my head. “Colin, I wanted to talk to you about this in?—”

“Who’s this fella?” Two large men leaned on one of the cars smoking cigars. I hadn’t seen them from the front porch, but it was suddenly glaringly clear that Colin and I weren’t alone.

“Mason, remember? My friend from college. Come on, Mase. Let’s get you a drink.”

I gave the men a tight nod in hello but inside I was spiraling. I followed Colin to an exterior staircase leading to a snug balcony overlooking the driveway. The smell of food and sounds of merriment funneled down to us as Colin gripped the railing. Dread washed over me as he began hiking the stairs. I hurried after him, debating reaching out and grabbing his arm to stop him. I knew the second I stepped foot in the house, I wouldn’t have a moment alone with him.

“Colin,” I rasped, exacerbated. “We need to?—”

“Mason O’Leary!” his mother said.

Colin shook my hand from his coat as he smiled up at her. She hadn’t changed a bit since I saw her last, which had been several years ago.

“Mrs. Webster.” I nodded, smiling as kindly as I could manage despite the angst tightening my chest.

“Come up, come up, it’s freezing out here!” She waved us up enthusiastically, turning back into the house, which I soon realized was crowded.

The kitchen was full of men. Uncles. A grandfather on Colin’s maternal side, and a few gangly teenage boys trying to scrounge something to eat while they waited for dinner to be served. I was given an elaborate introduction in the packed space, where the smell of seafood was heavy and delicious. I ended up drinking an entire glass of wine in what felt like only a few seconds before I was finally allowed to move on from the kitchen into the dining room, where the women were.

Aunts and two grandmothers, as well as several children of varying ages, greeted me excitedly, peppering me with compliments.

“Oh, you’re so handsome,” one of the aunts, I’d already forgotten her name, crooned, batting her long eyelashes at me.

“He’s too young for you,” Colin said, which got him a smart, sharp smack on the arm. I was led toward the living room, where I got my first glimpse of Fia.

She was sitting on the couch with what must have been some cousins—the young adults and teenagers who were obviously banished to the furthest reaches of the house. She hopped to her feet and gave me the biggest, most excited smile. I turned to Colin. “Colin, I need to talk to you.”

“Colin!” his father called. “Where the hell is he? Ah, there he is. Hey, get over here and help your Uncle Robby get the calamari plated!”

Colin clapped me on the shoulder in farewell before I could get another word in. Defeated, I turned to Fia and felt instantly at ease. She snuggled up to my side, her fingers brushing mine but not quite taking my hand. “I didn’t even see you come in.”

“I’m not sure how you would have,” I said in just above a whisper. “There’s what, thirty people in just these three rooms?”

I wasn’t sure how big the house was, but I assumed there was a story below us, possibly an informal den and a bedroom or two, and I knew based on the staircase at our backs that there were more bedrooms upstairs. It was an older house—brick exterior, tight hallways. The furniture was a mix of second-hand and antiques. It had a homey feel to it—all light and color and delicious smells from the kitchen.

I could feel the love in here. There was nothing cold about this place.

“Come on, there’s people I want you to meet,” Fia said.

“Colin already did introductions.”

“That doesn’t count. Are you my boyfriend, or Colin’s?” Fia’s face paled, her eyes darting to her fuzzy light blue and white socks, decorated with little woven snowflakes.

I reached for her fingers, squeezing them. Her answering smile was soft, but I hoped she could decipher the look in my eyes. Girlfriend. It had a nice ring to it now that this wasn’t just a scheme.

“You wore the sweater,” she said as she led me into the dining room. Food was being arranged on the table. Mismatched chairs were being hauled in, stuffed wherever they could fit. Fia promptly sat me down between two elderly women and took a seat across from me, smiling with a ruddy pink blush. Her maternal and paternal grandmothers inspected me at a closer range than when Colin had introduced me to them.

One by one, people started filling the seats. The younger kids were seated at the table in the kitchen, which proved to not make much of a difference in the noise level between the two rooms.

Fia tried to explain this meal to me—seven dishes. All seafood in some way, shape, or form. Bottles of wine were passed down the table while some of the uncles argued over where the baccala was.

“Colin did it this year,” a woman with long, pin straight black hair shouted from the far end of the table. “It’s his first time, you know. Someone get a picture when he walks in!”

“The kid’s thirty-five, Adora, come on,” a man said from the kitchen as he walked in with a corkscrew for the wine bottles.

“There he is,” another male voice announced over the fray. “Everybody clap for Mr. Baccala .”

Half-spirited and slightly sarcastic claps rang out as Colin arrived carrying an oven-safe dish, his hands covered by candy cane print oven mitts. He curtsied, rolling his eyes as applause rained down on him. I smiled, shaking my head.

Colin started gesturing madly for someone to make room on the table for the hot dish. He looked exactly like he did the day I met him in college. Loud, animated, with his thick Brooklyn accent rushing to the surface as he bickered with his uncles. I momentarily forgot I was technically his boss, and was just his friend again, like the two of us hadn’t gone into business together on a whim.

And that I wasn’t now dating his baby sister.

Guilt washed over me as the last people sat down. I glanced at Fia, who had her chin propped on her hand. Her aunt leaned in to whisper into her ear, probably about me, I guessed. Fia looked beautiful tonight. That was all I could think about until one of her grandmothers tugged on my sweater.

“Do you pray?”

“Uh—”

One of the uncles started to lead the family in a spirited blessing that had several people gasping in shock and swatting him with napkins. I crossed myself on impulse, old habits dying hard, and caught Fia smirking at me out of the corner of my eye. Her grandmothers were instantly pleased with me and promptly filled my plate with food, ensuring I got the best pieces of everything on the table. The dinner flowed without a hitch.

“No, no, no. That’s wrong. I got Fia her first camera, remember? After her first communion,” a man with a wiry, salt and pepper beard said from the far side of the table. His wife, bottle blonde and beautiful, rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“That’s not true, Frankie. Nonna Gemma got her that disposable camera for her fourth birthday. She took our picture together, remember? We still have it on the fridge.”

Fia was turning a bright pink under the flood of praise and admiration being poured in her direction.

“You should see the cameras she has now.” Fia’s mother beamed, wiggling her eyebrows.

One of the uncles rolled his eyes and waved a hand in dismissal. “No, listen. I know a guy in jersey, Fia. Are you listening? You said one of your lenses was cracked or something? He can get you all fixed up on that, no problem.”

I’d been smiling around forkfuls of food the entire dinner so far, finding myself laughing even though I didn’t understand the backstories or know who these people were talking about most of the time.

But that all came crashing down in an instant.

“What’s the big deal? It’s not like she’s going to need a camera now anyway,” Colin barked, just out of eyeline.

“Why?” the blonde aunt asked, setting her fork down. “What’d we miss?”

Suddenly all eyes were on Fia, whose face fell, her eyes going wide as she slowly turned to me. Her lips parted, but then Colin rang out, “She got a job offer in LA. Senior Event Manager at some fancy production company.”

I held her gaze as the room spun around us, both of us washed away in a tidal wave of conversation. She’d gotten a job offer? In LA?

“When?” I asked without meaning to speak.

Fia shook her head. “I haven’t?—”

“This must be so hard for both of you,” Nonna Gemma said sympathetically, laying a withered hand on my forearm. Several people looking in our direction nodded.

“Oh, come on,” Colin sputtered, standing with a nearly empty glass of wine in his hands.

“Colin,” Fia warned, but it was too late.

“What? It’s not like this was real.” He gestured to us, and my stomach sank to my shoes.

“What are you talking about, Colin? Sit down,” his father urged, but Colin was looking right at Fia, who looked shattered.

Colin ran his tongue along his lower lip, chuckled, then looked at her a little harder and slowly turned his gaze to me. “You didn’t.”

I rose, calmly setting my napkin on the table and tilting my head toward the door in the kitchen. “I need to talk to you alone.”

“No, no.” Colin shook his head, looking from me to Fia. “No, this was supposed to be a business arrangement.”

Murmurs of “What?” drifted around the crowded table. Fia stood so abruptly her chair nearly fell backward, but she righted it, gripping the crown until her knuckles turned white.

Colin pointed an accusatory finger between us. “You slept with him, Fia?”

Gasps of shock rang out, followed by several of the men seated at the table standing, facing Colin, asking what the hell he was doing getting in his sister’s business. Their words were drowned out by the rushing of blood in my ears as Fia’s face went totally white.

Fury blurred my senses. I trudged forward and grabbed Colin by the shirt, whirling him toward the kitchen door.