Page 20 of Married with Mayhem

He chuckles. “Sounds like Sabrina. Hey, thanks for stepping up today. Anni had to talk their mother out of a breakdown when Sabrina took off with no warning.”

“Sabrina’s an adult,” I remind him. “She ought to be able to go wherever she wants whenever she wants.”

“True,” he says. “But everyone still thinks of her as the accident-prone baby of the family and any situation gets extra sticky whenever Vittorio gets involved.”

This news is less than fantastic. I’ve only met Vittorio Messina one time. It was the day of the Valentine’s Massacre, as it came to be known. Albie Barone, Sabrina’s father, decidedhe’d been double crossed and last year on Valentine’s Day he attempted to wipe out every member of the Amato family, including Luca.

He didn’t succeed. A few hours later, Albie’s brains were decorating a wall in his Long Island mansion. Vittorio Messina, the most feared mafia boss in Sicily and Sabrina’s uncle, swooped in to sort out the chaos. When Vittorio returned to Sicily, he took Sabrina and her mother with him.

“Sabrina will be safe,” I tell Luca. “Reassure Anni that her little sister is under my protection and the minute this cyberattack bullshit gets resolved I’ll ship her out to you on the next flight.”

This should be a plan everyone can agree on. And I ought to feel eager to see this temporary wrinkle in my life ironed out as soon as possible.

So why does a sour taste fill my mouth at the thought of waving goodbye as Sabrina’s plane takes off?

I’m going to blame leftover adrenaline from the Florida job. Can’t be any other reason.

On Luca’s end there’s a sudden outbreak of crying. His tone changes in an instant.

“Aw, look who woke up from her nap,” he says. It’s a trip listening to him get all goofy with baby talk as he comforts his daughter.

“Sounds like you’ve got your hands full,” I say. “I’ll keep you updated if there are any changes in the Sabrina situation but for now everything is under control.”

“All right, man,” he says as the baby quiets down. “Don’t let her boss you around too much.”

“Not a chance,” I scoff, amused at the thought that I’m in any danger of being bullied by a five-foot-tall video game pixie.

No sooner have I clicked to end the call when the phone pings with an incoming text.

Sabrina thought of another addition to her shopping list.

I’d love a pack of cards. I need to practice my shuffling. THANK YOU!!!

She’s added an entire line of pink hearts beneath the text.

With a sigh, I push open the door to the drugstore and mentally sort through the revised list of Sabrina’s requests.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m leaving the drugstore with three shopping bags full of Chapstick, cinnamon gum, tiny cereal boxes, assorted toiletries, tampons, six Toblerone bars and multiple packs of playing cards.

Then, because I’m sure Sabrina couldn’t possibly have many clothing options stuffed into that pink backpack, I cross the street to duck into a souvenir shop where I buy two ‘I Love New York’ t-shirts and a pair of women’s gym shorts. The shorts have the words BIG APPLE BOOTY plastered on the back but fuck it. That’s all they had in stock.

Back at Gino’s, my dad is busily serving a cornucopia of food to Sabrina’s table. Nico’s attention is focused on a laptop screen where he’s firing green lasers at giant furry goblins. The laptop is covered with anime stickers so I’m guessing it’s Sabrina’s. Livy hangs on my brother’s arm and watches him play whatever goblin-killing game he’s entranced with while Rochelle still mopes at the back table alone with her arms crossed and a murderous scowl pinching her face.

Sabrina, however, is perfectly cheerful as she holds a large hunk of stromboli in one hand and waves at me with the other.

“You’re back,” she says. “Did you get my chocolate?”

I dump all the bags on a nearby empty table. “I got every single blessed thing you asked for, Sabrina.”

She sucks on the straw hanging out of her soda glass. I do my best not to picture what she’d look like sucking on more exciting things.

The straw pops out of her mouth and she cocks her head, giving me a fond smile. “Thank you so much. Sometimes you really are a prince, Monte Carlo.”

“I’m positive that I have never told you my middle name.”

“You don’t like it? I like it. It’s classy.”

“No, I don’t like it. It was the bane of my existence all through school and I still hold a grudge.” I glance pointedly at my father, who just finished helping the kitchen staff stretch some pizza dough and now boxes up an order.

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