Page 66 of Desperate Measures

“Let us in, Micky. We brought cookies,” Aella said, shaking a tin that I just knew was filled with perfect little anisette flavored confections.

“Let them up, Tate. It’s okay.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Five minutes later, I was being squeezed to death by some of my favorite cousins, Lucy, Clementine, Aella, and Andrea, Uncle Andres’ daughter, came bustling inside.

Snowflakes were melting on their hair, faces, and jackets and I gasped at how cold they felt on my warm skin.

“When did it start snowing?” I asked, surprised and happy to see them all here.

“I don’t know, a little while ago,” Lucy answered, grabbing all the coats and making use of the rack by the door.

“Wow, this place is nice!” Clementine commented, going right to the big windows that overlooked the street.

“Are you making Nonna’s gnocchi?” Aella asked, biting her bottom lip and wagging her eyebrows.

“I am, but I didn’t know you heifers were coming.”

“Shut up. You have more in the fridge and I know it,” she said, pushing past me to dish up the pasta.

“Brat,” I muttered, grabbing the Tupperware where I’d stored the rest of the gnocchi and the cream and grated cheese.

“So good,” she moaned, chomping away at my dinner.

“Anyone else?” I asked, exasperated.

Everyone raised their hands.

Of course they did.

“Oh my God, Micky! I think you made that better than Aunt Sofia!” Lucy sighed after we’d all eaten our fill, patting her belly as she leaned back in the dining room chair.

I grinned, appreciating the lie, but everyone knew my mom was the better cook.

Still, I wasn’t an idiot. I’d take the compliment. I grabbed another anisette cookie and moaned as I munched on the buttery, crumbly goodness.

“Okay, as much as I love you bitches, why are you here?” I asked, wiping my mouth on a napkin.

“Can’t we come visit our cousin?” Aella asked, all innocence, as she started clearing away plates and loading the dishwasher.

“No. You can’t. Now out with it.”

“Ugh, fine. Micky, I want to know if you’re coming to the Christmas party. Thanksgiving was boring as hell without you,” Lucy said, rolling her eyes.

“Uncle Ad and Dad didn’t even get into an argument over who got to carve the turkey. It was pretty awful,” Andrea confirmed.

“Oh my God. So, you want to know if I’m coming to Christmas so our dads can fight?”

“No, you turd! We want you to come to Christmas so we can meet your husband,” Clem replied, starting the dishwasher.

“We don’t know anything about him. What if he’s just using you?” Lucy asked.

Shit.

I knew this was coming.

And really, what could I say? Liam was using me. But only because I let him.

---