Page 16 of It's Always Sonny

“Kinda goes without saying, MJ.” I shudder remembering the feeling of cold applesauce between my butt cheeks. I got mashed potatoes on Nonna’s shoes, for heaven’s sake, but she escalated things quickly. My grandma has a wicked, vengeful sense of humor.

Millie asks about my family and I ask about hers. We talk about how her animal-assisted therapy practice has grown, how life as an insta-mom has been, and about how married life is treating her. She asks me about rehab and my house. We’re on our third game (winner takes all) by the time Duke returns.

“Hello, gorgeous.” Duke stands behind his wife and slips his arms around her. She angles her head back to kiss him, and I avert my eyes. That kiss is bordering on get-a-room territory. Also, I’m trying not to think about how I used to hug Parker that same way. She was never big on public affection, but when it was just the two of us, she could be so tender. So soft. I’ve dated other women since her, but no one has come close to making me feel like I did when I was with her. I miss having what they have.

Not that I need anything to be happy.

Duke finally comes up for air. “So, catch me up.”

“We were talking about getting applesauce in the crack,” she says.

“MJ,” I moan. Last time I tell anyone about my family.

Duke blinks. “As in … butt crack?”

“Is there any other kind?” she asks innocently, still in his arms.

“Did Lottie squirt her applesauce down your pants?”

Millie shakes her head. “No. Just don’t mess with Sonny’s Nonna.”

“Nonna? I have a concussion, don’t I?” he asks me. “Am I dying? Should I go toward or away from the light?”

“You’re fine,” I say. I point two fingers at Millie to make sure she knows I’ve got my eyes on her. “It’s a long story that involves a bit too much Luciano insider knowledge, knowledge that your wife swore she would not use against me,” I say. “My family is hoping to book Sugar Maple Farms for our reunion next week. I was asking Millie if it could handle the full Luciano experience, and she assured me it could.”

“I don’t know.” Duke squints in apparent thought. “I’m not sure the apple harvest was big enough for that many cracks.”

I chuck a pool ball at him, and he catches it like a pro. “I hate you. If you two tell anyone that story, I will exact a fierce revenge.”

Millie’s eyes widen. “You don’t mean … apple butter?”

Duke chuckles. “Next time you tell this abomination of a story, you gotta say it was apple butter. Because of … butts. Get it?”

“Wow, that’s clever,” I deadpan. “Did you think of that yourself?”

“I live with a four year-old, man. That joke killed.”

“I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

Millie squeezes my shoulder. “Could be worse. Parker could be here.”

Touché.

Chapter Seven

Parker

I’m in my office at the Jane & Co. building in town when my phone buzzes. I finish typing and then grab my phone and look at the text.

It’s from …

It’s from my father.

My heart starts hammering as I read it.

THOMAS EMERSON: I see the “McLadyPants” stock price has exceeded analysts’ expectations.

That’s it. That’s the text.

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