Page 15 of Sugar, Sprinkles, and Secrets
Wells
or juston vibrate!!
Wells
Max?? I want the scoop! I feel left out. This is why I should have dragged you all to Sydney with me. I don’t like missing things.
Jack
Lol
Wells
…now you’re both just messing with me.
Chapter ten
“Okay, Betty, just let me know if anything else comes up,” I tell my right hand as we finish the phone call. She needed to check with me about a custom online order. Usually, I’m in the bakery every single day, but I needed her to run the show today. I hate asking for help, but I didn’t have a choice.
Luca’s girlfriend and Dante and Mila’s mother, Naomi, didn’t realize she was pregnant with Dante until she was almost six months along, and I know she wasn’t sober from alcohol during the first six months of pregnancy. Dante was born five weeks early, and during his NICU stay, his doctors discovered he was born with a combination of heart defects known as Tetralogy of Fallot. I did everything I could to research and understand his condition, and it was not surprising to me that one of the risk factors for Tetralogy of Fallot was alcohol abuse by the mother while pregnant. It’s rare, but the combination of four congenital heart defects changes the way the blood flows through the heart and lungs. When he would cry, especially, his skin would get this bluish tint to it, and I felt like I was holding my breath most of those first few months of his life until he was three months old and underwent corrective surgery. Thankfully, everything went as smooth as possible with both the surgery and his recovery.
The repair was successful, and no one would know that my vivacious five-year-old nephew was once that tiny baby with so many wires coming out of his little body. It’s not an issue with his day-to-day life, but he needs to see a pediatric cardiologist annually. I was so nervouslast year when it was our first appointment since the move, but one of our contacts with the U.S. Marshal Service helped us find a doctor that has extensive experience with Tetralogy of Fallot, and really helped to ensure the medical records were all in place so Dante gets the medical care he needs, while also protecting our identities. Some people may only worry about HIPPA violations, but I worry every single day that someone is going to realize that I’m a giant liar, but I don’t have a choice, not when it comes down to keeping Dante and Mila safe.
We left this morning for the easy drive into Nashville to the pediatric cardiology specialty clinic. I probably could’ve left Mila with Betty and she would have been fine, but I feel more comfortable having them both with me whenever possible.
“Baby girl, did you take my watch again?” I look at her in the rearview mirror and she tries to stuff it in her pocket. “Girlfriend, you’re like a pickpocket. I didn’t even know you took it!”
“Sorry, Zia. I took it before we left. I like looking at the pictures.” Mila wants to have a special watch like her brother wears, but Dante doesn’t wear his smartwatch for pictures—I use it to keep an eye on his oxygen levels. Mila knows I’m not actually mad at her, if anything, I’m annoyed I didn’t notice sooner. I’m supposed to be on alert all the time, especially if people are taking things off my body—even cute little thieves with quite literally sticky fingers. I probably just need more coffee.
Isn’t that a constant truth in my life?
I didn’t sleep well last night; I couldn’t stop replaying the perfect day we got to have in my head. Who would have ever thought that an oven breaking would lead to one of the best holidays I’ve had in years—if not my entire life. When Luca and I were growing up, we were raised by our grandmother. Our father was more of a sperm donor than anything else, and our mother struggled with addiction before succumbing to the disease when Luca was still in diapers. Nonna was awesome though and loved us the best she could, even if I was a spitting image of my mother. Sometimes, I think Nonna held on just to make sure Luca made it to eighteen; barely six months after his eighteenth birthday,Nonna went to sleep one night when she was eighty years old and didn’t wake the next morning. I can just imagine her correcting that thought, “No,cara mia, I woke up, just on the other side of heaven with the love of my life. Your Pops and I needed the best seats in heaven to keep an eye on you and your brother.” She didn’t ask to take us in when our mother bailed on us, but she never made us feel bad for the extra stress it had to add to her life.
It was because of our mother that Luca and I both promised her we would never touch drugs, and that vow probably contributed to why we’re in this situation today. His on-again-off-again girlfriend, Naomi, was never the greatest mother; she was more flighty than anything else and was never really interested in being a mother. She was nice for the most part, but her head was always in the clouds, it wasn’t intentional—at least, before the accident. Luca never would have gotten involved with Naomi in the first place if her addictions were an issue in the beginning, but you don’t get a crystal ball when it comes to relationships. But my brother loved her and tried to help save that same girl when her addiction consumed her.
When Mila was a baby, Naomi was injured in a car accident while riding home from a concert with a friend. After getting hooked on the pain meds necessary during her initial recovery, she became addicted to cocaine pretty quickly. By that point, Luca already had primary custody of the kids and was hopeful that she would get clean, but that hope was a dying prayer. Her last dose was laced with fentanyl and Lord knows what else. She overdosed in the dirty basement of some abandoned house, and by the time anyone sober knew where she was, she was already gone.
I moved in with Luca when he got custody of Dante as a toddler. By then, Naomi and Luca had broken up, but she was already pregnant. When she had Mila, she didn’t even ask about custody, just basically handed her off to Luca and walked away. So, when Naomi overdosed six months after Mila’s birth, theirdaily lives didn’t change much, despite their mother’s death. It wouldn’t be until Luca’s best friend Rafa’s murder that all of our lives would dramatically change.
Rafa Serrano never considered doing anything other than joining the family business. Unfortunately, in our hometown of Philadelphia, the last name Serrano means The Family business. Since his dad was the younger brother, Rafa wasn't in line to lead the business, so his cousin was being groomed to take over The Serrano Family, and Rafa was fine minding his own business, according to Luca. But when his cousin Salvatore Serrano started expanding their drug distribution, specifically fentanyl, Rafa didn’t like the direction the family was going and made his opinion known. Sal responded to his cousin’s dissent by putting a bullet between his eyes. Luca was with Rafa when he was murdered, and since Rafa had been suspicious of his cousin, he had significant amounts of evidence stored in a cloud storage account—and Luca had access to all of it.
We lost our mother to an overdose, Luca’s children lost their mother because of fentanyl, and my brother ultimately lost his best friend because of it as well. So, when the feds offered Luca the opportunity to testify, he took it under the condition that his children and sister would be protected.
Overnight, I went from Alessia Carabella Morelli who dreamed of someday opening a bakery in our Philadelphia neighborhood, to Cara Diaz from New York City who was going to open her own bakery in some small town located in Tennessee. We sold Nonna’s house that was in mine and Luca’s names, and I had some savings set aside for my bakery dream, but I never thought it would happen so soon or under these conditions.
We didn’t change Dante’s and Mila’s first names because it would’ve been too confusing for them, and we had to come up with a believable story to explain why they both call me Zia—or aunt in Italian. But most of the time, if people see tan skin and hear the last name Diaz, it’s not a stretch for them to assume Mexican descent instead of Italian. And while I try to contain my accent, most people in Forrest Falls can’t tellthe difference between accents from Philadelphia, Jersey, New York, or Long Island.
Luca is at some undisclosed location until the trial against Salvatore Serrano is complete, but we don’t know how long that will be because the feds don’t actually know Sal’s current location. They were waiting for some warrant to come through when Sal got tipped off and disappeared like a cloud of smoke. Unfortunately, we do know Sal put a bounty on Luca’s head, and he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt me or Luca’s children if it meant getting to my brother. We also know that Sal is enough of a monster that he would be cruel in the process, regardless if his victim was a man or a small child. Sal may not know the extent of information that Luca downloaded from Rafa’s cloud storage, but he is aware of Luca cooperating with the feds.
I push those thoughts away—they aren’t helpful right now. We hustle from the parking lot because we cannot be late for Dante’s appointment. Thankfully, this campus isn’t as spread out as the clinic in Philadelphia was, so it doesn’t take us long to get to the right office.
“Hi, I’m here with Dante Diaz for his nine-thirty appointment with Dr. Hutchinson.” I smile at the young receptionist, grateful that while we had been running late this morning, the clinic called during the drive to let me know that the doctor’s schedule was bumped a bit too. I’m not used to things going my way, so I’ll take any small mercy I can get.
“Absolutely. I think you spoke to one of his nurses, but Dr. Hutchinson got held up in surgery this morning and is running a little behind his original schedule. If you want to have a seat, it will be just a few minutes until one of the nurses come to take Dante back.” She reaches behind her to grab something before handing me two brightly colored mesh bags. “We have activity packs to entertain you while you wait, and I even have one for his little friend.” One of the things I love about pediatric specialty clinics is that they’re prepared for young kids. They expect them to be bored, loud, and behave like kids—whereas at a general clinic, I spend half the time apologizing for one thing or another.
“That would be so great, thank you.” I glance at her name tag before crouching down to talk to my niece. “Mila, what do you say to Miss Jennifer?” I ask my niece as she eyes the activity pack with curiosity.
“Thank you.”
