“I’m sure you did. I get that. You’re a good person, and despite your cold break-up, I know you loved him, so I know you thought you were doing the right thing. But nothing excuses you for ab--”

“Alright.” Angelo steps forward and cuts him off. “It’s not our business. Scotch and Sammy have something going on now. They have a truce, or an arrangement, or something, so it’s none of our business.”

Luc’s spare arm comes out toward me. He pulls me in close and squeezes me to his side. “I missed you, Soda. That’s all I’m saying. And family doesn’t do what you did. Scotch would never do that to us. Or to you.”

I nod and turn my face away to wipe more traitorous tears. I thought I was doing the right thing. “I know.”

“So you have a sweet baby Lily. Why are you here?”

“Sam’s still my husband.”

Luc rolls his eyes. “Yeah, because he’s a puss and wouldn’t file those divorce papers.”

“He had them drawn up?”

“He had papers drawn up about ten years ago, Sammy. He was moving through his stages of mourning. You know; denial, anger, bargaining, depression. He’s been vacillating between those four for a long ass time.”

“What about acceptance?”

Luc shakes his head softly. “I don’t think he got there yet. He mostly hangs around the hoods of depression and anger. Sometimes he hates your fucking guts. Other times, he just wants you to come back and pretend it never happened.”

“Luc,” Angelo scolds. “Scotch is our brother. Stop giving away his secrets.”

“I doubt he’ll tell her this shit.”

“Exactly--”

“So if someone else around here learned how to use their big boy words, then maybe we can spend the next thirteen years without the depression.”

Lily’s squeaking continues to grow louder the longer she slumps in Luc’s arm, and as though he’s finally just noticed, Luc stops arguing and looks up. “What the hell is that noise?”

“That’s Lily.”

Luc’s eyes snap open with worry, then repositioning her so she’s lying flat in the cradle of his arm instead of slumped against his chest, his spare hand shoots away from me and goes to her chest. He lowers his head so his ear stops barely an inch from her lips. “She has trouble breathing?”

“Not trouble, exactly. She’s just squeaky.”

“It’s her laryngomalacia,” Ang declares knowingly. I’m impressed he knows the word. I had to google it a million times in the last three months because I forgot what her condition was called.

Luc nods silently, closing his eyes with his ear still by her mouth, and he listens intently. “She’s a beauty. Congratulations, Mama.”

I frown similarly to when Angelo referred to me as Mama. I’m looking to adopt her. I want her to be my daughter, but, “Calling myself her mama feels weird. I didn’t carry or birth her.”

Luc continues to concentrate on her labored breathing. “You need a little help, pretty Lily?”

Lily’s tiny fist shoots out quickly, knocking Luc in the nose, and he laughs. “No sympathy for you, then. Noted. Some girls want the sympathy. You’re one of those take-charge chicks, huh? No time for pity. I like it.”

“Are you married, Luc? Dating?” I turn to Angelo. “I didn’t ask you either. Jesus, there’s so much I don’t know.”

“Not married,” Luc answers. “Neither of us. In fact, I’m not even sure Ang lost his virginity yet.”

Angelo’s used to Luc’s smartass comments by now, so he doesn’t even react the way I expect him to. He simply rolls his eyes and walks across the coffee lounge to the fridge. He grabs out a bottle of water and cracks the lid. “I’m not married, Soda. But I did get laid at least once since high school.”

“That’s nice.” I laugh. “So no one serious? No one I should meet while I’m here.”

Ang’s eyes flash guiltily, but he controls it quickly. “Nah, no one for me to bring home to you. Not yet. Maybe someday.”

“You’re getting old, boys. You probably should get it done.”