D
espite Nonna’s shrill insistence, Luc deliberately did not invite Ava along to the Moretti family dinner on Sunday.
And not because he didn’t want her there.
In fact, it alarmed him just how much he
did
want her there. For moral support…and because it felt right.
Like she belonged. With him.
But tonight, there were things he needed to say to his family. Things best
not
said in front of a reporter.
“So you’re still giving me the silent treatment?” Anthony asked, coming to join Luc on the back railing of the ferry as they headed toward Staten Island.
Luc stared out at the Statue of Liberty. “I’ve been talking to you all week.”
Anthony snorted. “Sure. If by
talking
you mean grunting and barking one-word answers.”
“This coming from the guy who once called conversation
useless bullshit
?”
“Why talk when you can act?”
“That’s a solid tattoo option, but makes for shitty relationships, Anth.”
It was a low blow, but Anthony, being Anthony, wasn’t fazed. He merely turned around so his back was to the water, resting his elbows on the railing as he studied Luc.
“You’re mad at me. At Vin. Definitely at Dad.”
Luc met his brother’s eyes. “You could say that.”
“Because we protected you.”
“Don’t even,” Luc said, standing up straight to face his oldest brother. “Don’t spin this. If situations were reversed, how would you feel, knowing your father risked his career to make a deal with the media, and then the entire family knew about it and didn’t tell you?”
“Not the entire family,” Anthony corrected. “Elena has no idea. Not sure about Mom and Nonna.”
Luc leveled his oldest brother with a look that said
don’t try to distract me with details
.
Anthony sighed and ran a hand over the back of his neck as he stared at the dock. Then, to Luc’s surprise, his brother looked up and met his eyes.
“I’d be pissed.”
Luc threw his hands in the air. “Thank you.”
“I’d be pissed and then I’d get over it,” Anthony continued.
“
Really
.” Luc drew out the word. “You, who still holds a grudge against the defensive lineman that sacked you in JV football? You’d forgive and forget?”
“We’re not talking about some chump fourteen-year-old with shit for brains. We’re talking about your
family
who did what they could to protect you.”
Luc leaned forward again, running his hands through his hair.
Anthony was right. His dad had been out of line to interfere. His brothers had been out of line to go along with it.
But you couldn’t argue their motive. They’d wanted to protect their
bambino
.
Hell, if Luc was completely honest with himself, it wasn’t even their interference that was eating at him.
It was the fact that he’d needed protection in the first place.
For nearly two years, Luc had thought it had all been in his head.
He’d thought the battle was isolated to his own messed-up brain as he tried to convince himself that he had to stop blaming himself for Shayna. That it wasn’t his fault that Mike was dead.
But if his dad had felt it necessary to “call in a couple favors” to keep the media off the story…
It meant there was something to hide.
And so even though Luc wanted to rail at his brother, and his dad…hell, he wanted to holler at his entire family for treating him like the baby.
But he couldn’t.
Because
they
weren’t the problem.
Luc was.
He stared down at his hands and took a deep breath. “What would you have done differently?”
Anthony lifted an eyebrow. “Well, for starters, I would have told you about Dad’s master plan if it meant you’d do less sulking.”
“No, I mean on that day,” Luc clarified. “When Mike died. What would you have done if you were me?”
Anthony sighed. “Luca. Don’t. Not this again.”
“Tell me,” Luc snapped. “I need to know.”
Still, his brother resisted, his expression tense and angry. “You think you’re the only cop with regrets? You think you’re the only cop that hasn’t looked at dozens of decisions he’s made in his career and wondered what-if?”
“Well not
everybody’s
regrets involve two deaths,” Luc shot back.
“Yeah, but some of them do, Luca. Some of them involve a hell of a lot
more
deaths. It’s the name of the game. It’s a shitty reality, but it
is
reality. People die, Luc. Kids die. Cops die. It always happens on somebody’s watch, and I hate like hell that it was yours, but it happened. You’ve got to deal.”
“I should have moved in earlier,” Luc said, barely hearing his brother’s rant. “I knew we’d found our guy. I knew she was in that house. If only I’d gone around the back, trusted my gut…”
His brother’s hand found his shoulder, and that somehow made everything more real. Anthony wasn’t exactly an affectionate guy.
“We’ve already been over this,” Anthony said quietly. “You trusted the system. You did what you were supposed to do, Luc. And you know as well as I do that it could have just as easily gone the other way. You could have broken orders, gone barging in the back door.
Maybe
Mike would be alive.
Maybe
you’d save the girl…but maybe not.”
Luc opened his mouth, but Anthony pressed on. “There’s always going to be a what-if, if you let there be. The best any of us can do is learn from the shitty stuff and try to apply it to next time.”
Luc knew all of this, of course. He’d heard it before.
He just didn’t know how to start believing it.
L
uca.”
“Ma,” Luc said, letting himself be pulled into a long hug by his mother, even as he gave an exasperated sigh. “Were you waiting by the door?”
Her eyes went wide and innocent as she pulled back from the hug. “What? I was just coming down the stairs and saw you and Anthony coming up the walk…”
Luc lifted an eyebrow. “And yet you let Anthony scoot by.”
She waved her hand. “That boy’s never let me hug him.”
Luc waited. “And?”
His mother sighed. “And I wanted to talk to you. See you.”
Anthony glanced down the hall in the direction of the kitchen. “Dad told you?”
His mother’s warm hand found his arm. “Come talk to me.”
Saying no wasn’t an option.
Luc knew he was biased, but Maria Moretti was pretty much the gold standard of mothers.
Short and pleasantly plump, with salt and pepper dark hair and generous laugh lines, she looked every bit the part of the “understanding matriarch.”
Growing up, she’d been the type of mother who Luc’s friends confided in, even when they were at odds with their own parents.
But that was not Maria Moretti’s real feat; the real accomplishment was that Luc’s mother had always gotten her
own
children to confide in her.
Granted, the
pignoli
she always had on hand at the exact right moment likely helped—if spilling your guts about the C– on your English exam meant getting another of the delicious almond, pine-nut cookie, then you spilled your guts.
Same went for fessing up on who
really
broke that Venetian vase, and whether you and Marisa Perkins were really “studying.”
As Luc let his mother lead him into the tiny sitting room off the foyer, he realized not much had changed. She was still the kind of mom you talked to. About the important things.
But the important thing his mother wanted to talk about wasn’t what he expected.
“So, where is Ava?” she asked, curling up on the ancient leather love seat, pulling her legs beneath her.
If Luc hadn’t already been sitting in what Vincent had once dubbed the “interrogation” chair, he might have stumbled at the unexpected question.
“Ava?”
His mother gave him a knowing smile.
“What the hell does Ava have to do with the shit storm that got unleashed last weekend?” Luc asked, referring to the disastrous Father’s Day drinking session that had ended with him storming out of the bar like a sulky child.
“You went to her after, did you not?”
Luc’s eyes narrowed. Now, just how the hell did she know that?
“Actually, she came to me,” he heard himself say.
Damn.
He was already running his mouth, and she hadn’t even offered him a
pignolo
yet.
At least he’d stopped short of telling his mother about the sexy lingerie show. There were some things one did not tell one’s mother, no matter how amazing her baking skills.
Maria’s smile widened. “I like her.”
Luc said nothing.
“And Nonna likes her.”
Well. That was…something. Nonna and his mother hadn’t agreed on something since…Luc couldn’t remember.
“You’ve only met her once.”
“And?”
“And that’s not long enough to determine whether or not you like somebody,” Luc said.
“Did you know at first meeting that you liked her?”
Luc snorted. “The first time I met Ava Sims was when she was ripping me a new one for writing her a parking ticket.”
“But did you
like
her?” Maria pressed.
Luc opened his mouth, but shut it just as quickly.
It didn’t matter. His mom read his mind anyway and laughed gustily. “You liked the way she looked.”
“Well it certainly wasn’t her respect for traffic laws,” he muttered.
“Don’t discount physical chemistry,” his mother said with a smug smile. “When I first saw your father…”
Luc lifted a hand. “Nope. Just…no. We’re not doing that. And don’t tell me that you were sold on Ava Sims after one meeting because she’s gorgeous. That works on a hot-blooded single man, not his married mother.”
“No,” his mother mused. “I mean, yes, she’s very beautiful, but that’s not why I liked her.”
“Oh, do tell,” Luc said half-sarcastically. “Was it the way she totally sucked up to everyone in this house, because I’ve gotta tell ya—”
“It was the way you looked at her.”
Luc broke off at his mother’s quiet, matter-of-fact statement. “You like a girl because of the way your son looked at her?”
Her lips twitched. “You’ll understand when you have a child someday.”
Luc’s stomach twisted. “Mom—”
It was her turn to hold up a hand. “I know, I know. You’re not currently on the marriage and baby track. But you never know.”
He did know. He would never put any woman or child in the position of Mike Jensen’s widow and fatherless son.
No matter how he looked at Ava Sims.
Which, come to think of it…
“What do you mean, you liked the way I looked at her?” he asked, even though he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know.
His mom did nothing but smile, and he pointed a suspicious finger at her. “That. What is that?”
“You know what that is.”
Luc did know. Her smile stunk of
mother knows best
.
Actually, it was more like mother knows something you don’t know, but she’s not going to tell you what because you need to learn for yourself.
It was the worst.
But Luc’s brain didn’t feel big enough to deal with the Ava dilemma
and
the persistent guilt that his dad had risked his own career for Luc’s.
He tackled the second one. It seemed easier, somehow.
“Mom, did Dad tell you—”
“That two years ago that he asked Preston Nader not to run a story on the death of Mike and that poor baby girl?”
“Yes.”
“And that he also asked Joe Polinski, Anna Courture, and Keith Jobs?”
Luc leaned forward, both baffled and annoyed at his mother’s calm tone. “Mom, he bribed them.”
“I didn’t bribe anyone.”
Luc turned to see his father standing in the doorway, looking every bit as authoritative as he had in his police commissioner days.
Luc stood so he was eye level with his father. “You said you called in favors.”
“Different than bribery. I didn’t cross any ethical lines.”
“Bullshit!” Luc exploded.
“I took them to beers!” his dad yelled back. “I asked them to keep your name out of it. They agreed. That’s all there is to it. I made it clear that it was a personal request, not a professional one.”
“And the ‘favors’ you called in?”
His dad shrugged. “I helped Joe move. I gave Anna’s daughter an exclusive interview for her high school newspaper. I don’t remember the others, but I assure you they were every bit as tame.”
Luc sat back down. “What about Mike? And Shayna? They deserved a mention.”
“Luc.” This from his mother. “Do you really think your father wouldn’t have checked with their surviving family members first?”
Luc’s mind went blank as he met his father’s troubled gaze. “Did you?”
His dad came into the tiny room, lowering himself next to his wife on the love seat.
The scene was familiar. How many times had Luc sat across from his parents in this very room, sitting in this very chair? Through bad news. Lectures. Good news.
When they’d told him about the death of his grandfather.
When they were upset about his report card.
When he’d gotten his college acceptance letter.
“Luca…” His dad’s voice was tired. “Beverly Jensen didn’t want a spectacle made of Mike’s death. She and I spoke about it at length.”
Luc lifted his chin. “Mike deserved to be recognized for his service. And his sacrifice.”
“And he
was
recognized,” Tony said, hitting his knee with his fist. “He damn well was. Hell, you went to the ceremony!”
“Yeah, so a bunch of fellow cops celebrated him. He deserved for the world to know what he did.”
“Yeah?” his father asked. “And how’s that working out for you, son? You enjoying the world knowing what you’re up to? You like being
celebrated
?”
Well…shit
. Luc walked right into that one.
“It’s different,” Luc snapped.
“Is it?”
His mother wasn’t smiling anymore, but her voice was still calm. Gentle. “You knew Mike as well as anyone, Luc. Would he have wanted his face plastered all over the newspapers? His name bandied about on the evening news by talking heads that didn’t even know him?”
Luc rolled his lips inward as he considered. “Mike would have hated that. So would the Johnson family,” he said, staring down at his hands. “They were desperate to avoid media attention during the entire ordeal. They only wanted their little girl back.”
Tony nodded. “You went to see them after the funeral.”
Luc met his father’s eyes. “How did you know that?”
“Because I went to see them too. And I’m guessing they told you the same thing they told me. That they only wanted to be left alone to mourn their baby.”
“They should have wanted
justice
,” Luc said, swallowing a bitter lump in his throat. “They should have wanted the whole world to know that a cop could have saved her and didn’t.”
“Don’t you dare, Luca,” his mother said, her voice as sharp as he’d ever heard it. “Your brothers told me you’ve been subscribing to this nonsense, but I won’t tolerate it in my house.”
His head shot back a little. “You won’t tolerate what? My remorse?”
“Your misplaced shame. You want to bully your brothers with it, that’s their problem, but under my roof, you’ll leave the pity party at the door.”
“Pity party? Two people are dead, Mom!”
“And those two people deserve more than your sulky martyrdom!”
Luc stared flabbergasted at his mother’s outburst. For starters, Maria Moretti didn’t have outbursts. And second,
sulky martyrdom
? That’s what she thought he was about?
Something nagged the back of his neck.
Was his mother right?
Before he could process it, she kept going.
“You think you’re honoring people that died, Luca? Wrong. By skulking around like some sort of failure, by thinking you don’t deserve credit for the good that you do, you only give power to the baddies.”
Luc almost smiled at that.
Baddies
was how the Moretti clan had talked about police business around the dinner table back when the kids were little, and it still was applied to this day to refer to the scum of New York.
“Hold up,” Luc said, not quite ready to roll over and play dead just yet. “If I’m supposed to be so proud of myself, why did Dad get pissed about me dating a reporter?”
“Well not because you have anything to hide,” his dad grumbled. “I just know how reporters can be. They’re more interested in a good story than the truth. If she found out that ‘New York’s hero’s’ former partner had died and that he was first on the scene of a kidnapping-turned-murder, you think she wouldn’t jump all over that to boost ratings?”
“Tony!” Maria admonished. “Ava’s not like that.”
“How do you know? We saw her for, like, twenty minutes,” Tony grumbled.
“She’s not,” Luc’s mother said firmly. “Luca, tell your father.”
Luc ran a hand over his face. “She’s not like that.”
“Oh, that was convincing,” Tony grumbled.
Even Maria’s resolve seemed to have wavered. “Luc, she wouldn’t. Would she? Your father’s being overprotective, she’s a good girl. Nonna and I both like her—”
“Which, we get it, you two agreeing is a bit like spotting the Loch Ness Monster,” Vincent said from the doorway, “but I’m with Dad on this one.”
“What are you doing here?” Maria said, scowling at her middle son. “We’re speaking with Luca.”
“Which was totally fine back when he was twelve and broke the window of the science building with his baseball—”
“Never happened,” Luc interrupted.
“…but this is adult
family
dinner. In case you haven’t noticed, there are three other people waiting in the other room.”
“Not anymore,” Elena said in a singsong voice.
Elena appeared next to Vin, Anthony loomed over both of them, and Nonna…
“What the ridiculous blazes is happening in here?” she asked, shoving her way forward.
New lipstick today. Purple.
Nonna shoved her bony butt into a tiny opening next to Luc’s mother, who rolled her eyes and refused to budge.
“Is this a family meeting?” she asked, looking around. “I can Skype Marco in.”
“Oh, by all means,” Luc said. “Let’s get the entire family involved in my personal life.”
“Ooh, personal life,” Elena said, pushing forward into the tiny room, making it feel even smaller. “What are we dealing with here? Women? No, wait…Woman. Singular. Ava?”
Luc growled. “You all know I brought her over for dinner once, right? And only at Nonna’s insistence? I don’t understand how you all have us on the verge of our honeymoon.”
“Rumor has it she’s been at your place most nights this week.”
“Wonder where that started,” Luc said with a pointed glare at Anthony. His oldest brother had the decency to look slightly apologetic.
“That, and you held her hand like a whipped schoolboy,” Vin said, leaning against the doorway with his usual glare.
Luc ground his teeth but didn’t really have a response. The truth was, Ava sometimes
did
make him feel like a schoolboy.
Except when she made him feel very much like a man, like when she made those breathy gasps…
He shifted awkwardly and his brothers gave him a look that said,
our mother is right there, man. Keep your thoughts clean.
“So, are we done here?” Luc said, standing. “Everyone’s said what they need to say about my sex life, and my professional career, and my apparent lack of judgment?”
This last bit he said with a glare at his father, who glared right back, and the mood in the room slipped from jovial to wary in about five seconds.
“More wine,” Elena muttered to herself, scooting out of the room. “Always more wine.”
“What about my homemade limoncello?” Nonna said, half chasing after her. “You said you’d try it.”