Page 9 of Caught Up

“Consider me surprised,” she said, looping her arm through mine. Her voice dropped into something a little softer, a little sadder, as she leaned into my side. “You’ve stayed away awhile this time.”

Guilt washed over me. Fuck. How could I get away from Dad without risking my relationship with her? “I know,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

She squeezed my arm. “I understand, but please be better about texting me. I worry.”

“I will,” I told her.

Mom tugged me forward, and I reluctantly let her drag me to the front of the church, where people were starting to file into the pews. There weren’t exactly assigned seats, but the congregants knew not to sit in the first several rows unless they belonged to certain families. They were a place of privilege, prestige. Every single person around us had a surname ending in a vowel.

I was surprised to see Alec already in his seat when we approached, turned away from us as he spoke to an older man I vaguely recognized. Out of all my brothers, I least expected him to be here. If I was a lapsed Catholic, he was afull-blownatheist.

“Look who decided to join us,” Mom said.

Alec turned, and we locked eyes, both of us wearing equally suspicious looks.

What the fuck are you doing here?I wondered, and I could tell Alec was thinking the same thing. Neither of us did anything without reason. I was here for Lauren; I had no idea why he’d come. Maybe he needed to get on Mom’s good side for some reason, or he was trying to make a deal with the retired don beside him.

I made a mental note to interrogate Alec about it later as he rose from his seat and offered his hand. We shook, squeezing each other harder than necessary.

“Nice of you to finally show your ugly face,” he said.

I grinned. “Not as ugly as yours. Is that a new mole?”

He looked me over, unperturbed. “Your eyes are set too close together. That’s what it is.”

“I think the mole is growing hair,” I told him. Other families might show their affection for each other the normal way, open and easy, but in the Trocci household, our love language was antagonism. This exchange was my and Alec’sfucked-upway of saying we’d missed each other.

He opened his mouth to fire something back at me, but a woman’s voice cut him off.

“Is that little Nicky?”

Shit.

Alec’s eyes lit with unadulterated glee. I hated that old nickname, and he knew it.

“It sure is,” he said, banding an arm around my shoulders and jerking us in the direction of the speaker.

The wound at my side pulled, painfully, and I stomped on Alec’s toes to get him to release me. He let out a low curse, his arm falling away.

“Behave,” Mom hissed.

We assumed innocent expressions.

“Mrs. Mancini,” I said, facing the woman in the pew ahead of us. She had to be pushing ninety, but her fingers were firm when she reached out to shake my hand.

“Oh, you grew up so handsome,” she said. “Even better looking than your brother.”

I shot Alec ashit-eatinggrin and dropped my voice. “She must have noticed the mole.”

He shook his head, but I could tell from the way his lips twitched that I’d almost made him laugh with that one.

Mrs. Mancini’s gaze shifted to Mom as she released me. “Why don’t you bring them to Mass more and show them off? Some of us have single granddaughters.”

“Unfortunately, I’m taken,” I lied through my teeth. “But Alec isn’t.” Putting my hands on his shoulders, I shoved him forward like a sacrificial lamb.

His glare promised vengeance. My answering smile felt diabolical. Mom looked heavenward, as if praying for patience.

More people continued to filter in, offering a welcome distraction from the attempted matchmaking. The next several reintroductions went about the same way, though. Alec and I got the standard hellos and how have you beens followed by a nice strong shot of Catholic guilt about me and my wayward brothers, directed at Mom.

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