Smoke: The Carelli Family Saga, Book One

by Eden Butler

  “And he didn’t need to be.” Dario hopped up from the floor, moving to the sofa, kicking off the boxes that Mateo’s bed had come in. “Women were coming at him left and right.”

  “Uh huh and our little brother here was getting Smoke’s leftovers.”

  “Is there a point?” I asked, ignoring the wide grin that split across Dante’s face and the laugh Dario released.

  “Point is,” he continued, “Miss Gimmee knew she had him. She asked for a lot of shit. Got most of it too. Smoke was a little…stupid over her.”

  “And everyone knew it.” Dante nodded to his brother, dropping his smile. Something passed between them and Dante moved his chin, as though encouraging his older brother to finish the story.

  “True enough. But you couldn’t tell him anything.” His gaze shot back to the roses. “He went all out for her. Flowers, dinners, trips, jewelry, shopping. Our family, we’re comfortable, and Pops, he spoiled us, but even that, Madonna, that was a bit much. But Smoke, he wouldn’t listen…not to Pops…not to any of us, of course because we were his kid brothers…” Dario shrugged, like the memory still pissed him off. “Not even when Miss Gimmee wanted to go to Boston to see her cousin play his first game with the Sox. Big family event, she told him. But, Smoke wasn’t invited because, well…she hadn’t told her folks she had a serious boyfriend.”

  “Even though the only rookies that season were Dominican and the only brunette in her entire family was the yippy little chihuahua that pissed the carpet every time someone rang the bell,” Dante supplied.

  Dario frowned, crossing his arms. “Even though Smoke said there had to be a mistake when Pops brought him to the place where she was supposed to be staying and her aunt answered the door saying Miss Gimmee was in Mexico with her boyfriend Ethan.”

  “Ethan?” I said, my stomach tightening as I watched the muscles around Dario’s mouth flex.

  “He was one of the guys she was playing, but Smoke didn’t know that. He didn’t know that until after he found them together the next weekend.”

  “Ay Dios…”

  “It was…bad,” Dante said, leaning forward. “He lost it. Miss Gimmee split. Didn’t stick around for the beatdown Smoke gave Ethan. And…it was a bloody one…”

  “But he stopped himself.” Dario stood, turning to look out of the window when a horn sounded from the street. “The Ethan kid didn’t press charges. He was pissed at Gimmee too. But he did end up with a broken nose.”

  “If Pops hadn’t cleared things up, Smoke might have done time, considering he was a boxer.” Dante left the sofa, coming to stand next to Dario by the window that overlooked the street below, but his attention was on me, his gaze focused. “After that, Smoke just…closed himself off, swore he’d never be like that over a woman again.”

  “He didn’t trust them?”

  “He didn’t trust himself with them,” Dario said, then stood straight, cursing under his breath I couldn’t hear as he seemed to spot something outside on the street. “I gotta go.”

  “D…” Dante started, squinting as he looked down to where his brother had been staring. “Yeah, go...” he finally said, and Dario moved through the apartment, without stopping to even glance at me.

  “Is everything okay?” When I came to the window, shooting a look down to the street, I could only make out a black sedan and a leggy redhead grabbing bags from the backseat.

  “Yeah,” Dante said. “Dario just spotted somebody he’s been looking for.”

  “Hope she isn’t a Gimmee.” Dante’s laugh eased some of the tension burning in my stomach, but it didn’t make me relax.

  “No, I don’t think she is.” He nodded toward the mess on the floor, kneeling down to the piles I’d organized. “I’ll help if you tell me what to do. I’m shit at directions, but you give me a job to do and I can follow it.”

  “For what it’s worth…I’m not sure he sent them,” I admitted, pointing to a long piece that fit into the frame.

  “Who?” I nodded at the mantel, to the roses, and Dante lifted his eyebrows, a silent acknowledgement. He fastened the end into the opening, pushing the two pieces together, but kept his attention on my face. “Yeah? What makes you say that?”

  “Just never seemed like something he’d do and…” I shook my head, shutting my eyes when the heat of another blush warmed my face. “Things are…good, but we aren’t…you know, serious.” A quick shrug and Dante nodded.

  He took another slat for the bed when I handed it to him, fitting it into the headboard before he moved it around, not saying anything, his focus on the work, and we stayed silent, moving quickly until most of the bed was assembled.

  “Maybe it was Mrs. C.”

  Dante glanced at me, unblinking, like the thought surprised him, then instantly didn’t. “Probably. Ma is angling to be Nonna pretty bad.”

  “I’m surprised she’s not nagging you and Dario to find wives.”

  “Us? No.” He took the L-shaped Hex Key tool, fastening the small screws to the footboard as I held up the end. “They’re a little old school about that sort of thing. I think they want Smoke to be the first for some reason, but honestly, at this point, they just want little Carellis running around wrecking shit.”

  Five minutes later Dante finished with the last screw on the footboard and we moved Mateo’s oak bed, with him bearing most of the massive weight, into the center of his room next to a small window.

  “There. The kid won’t have to escape out of that one.”

  Mateo was getting so big, so fast. Things were changing too quickly. All of it—the past six months, how fast my life had transformed gave me whiplash. Something in my chest tightened when I glanced at my son’s dresser and spotted the framed picture of Smoke holding a laughing Mateo.

  “Thanks…” I started, cursing the crack in my voice when I spoke. Dante shot a glance at me, and I caught the horrified, panicked expression on his face, the same one any man has when they spot a woman’s tears. “Don’t worry,” I tried, hurrying to wipe my face dry. “I’m being…all moony and girly.”

  He looked around, running his fingers through his thick, wavy hair like he needed something to do other than look like a helpless idiot before he spotted the picture that currently kept my attention. Then, Dante reached for it, moving it face down on the dresser.

  “Come on, Maggie. He’s not that great…” I nodded, ignoring him, feeling stupid and ridiculous.

  “Please ignore me…”

  “Look,” he said, laying a hand on my shoulder, his tone light, but sweet. “I know my big brother. We might not have been around each other for a while, but I’ve seen him with women before and no matter how slick you two thought you were being sneaking around, everyone sees something is there.” When I blinked up at him, Dante grinned, wiping my cheek dry with his thumb. “I wouldn’t put any bets on those flowers being from Ma.” He nudged me, a gentle jab of his elbow in my rib. “Maybe that prick forgot all about Gimmee and sent them to you because he misses you as much you miss him…even though it’s only been a couple weeks.” He shook his head. “The pair of you are a little ridiculous, to be honest.”

  I doubted that but wouldn’t correct Dante. He had lugged this heavy bed into the apartment and let me boss him around while he built it. Let him have his delusions. They reminded me of my own.

  “I could use a drink,” I told him, nodding toward the living room. Dante followed me, shutting off the bedroom light as we left, but we both stopped short at the sound of Mateo’s soft cry coming down the hall.

  I moved toward my bedroom, but Dante held up a hand, stopping me. “I’ll grab him. He likes me now.”

  That was a stretch, but I wouldn’t correct the man. My boy seemed to only like Smoke and Mr. C. The other Carelli men he tolerated, but he didn’t complain or cry for me when Dante emerged with him into the kitchen, and he seemed fine to let him hold him as I fixed Mateo’s juice and a whiskey for Dante.

  “For you, little man,” I said, handing Mateo his
cup, then to Dante, “and your juice.”

  “God, I hope there’s something stronger in that.”

  “Only the good stuff.”

  Dante’s worried expression relaxed when he took a drink and he set Mateo onto the floor. My mijo made a beeline for the empty boxes, and we followed after him, smiling as he moved right inside one of the largest boxes, hitting the side.

  Mateo tore through the boxes, rolling onto his side, laughing and Dante lowered to his level, grabbing his cup when he dropped it. My mijo crab crawled from the mess of cardboard and packaging material to reach for his cup from Dante.

  “Think you’ll be able to survive til the weekend without my mook big brother?” Dante laughed when I rolled my eyes, but continued, “It’s Pop’s birthday this weekend.”

  “I know.” He took the drink when I pushed it toward him but didn’t pick it up until I nodded at him, a quick shift of my chin to insist he take a sip. “Paris has been bragging about planning the menu.”

  At the mention of the blonde waitress’s name, Dante’s expression twisted, his mouth turning down. That was the general reaction most of the Carelli’s had to the woman. “Forget about the ass-kisser,” he said. “She’s not invited. You are and so is the whole town. Bring the baby and come have a good time.”

  I held my drink in front of my mouth, moving my gaze to the baby, watching him laugh at the rustle of packing material and the pop of bubble wrap as he stepped on it. Could babies be lonesome? Mine certainly hadn’t acted like he missed Smoke, but then, how could I tell? If he could speak, say something, a name, anything… The thought made me feel worse.

  “I know you can’t stay away. You love my family too much.” He downed his drink, bringing the empty glass to the sink, his steps confident like he already guessed what my answer would be. “Besides, Toni will be in. She’ll kill you if you aren’t there.” Dante leaned down and picked Mateo up, snagging a small section of bubble wrap to show my son how to pop several rows at once. My boy squealed, reaching for the plastic, bouncing like he thought it was the most amazing sound he’d ever heard. My reaction was unexpected— a giggle that crept from deep in my belly. Dante noticed, whipping a look in my direction, his smug grin all confident and arrogant. “And, you know, I did build your son’s bed for you. I’m gonna need a promise.”

  The man was impossible. He was also a Carelli. That meant stubbornness went right along with all that impossibility. “Fine,” I finally said, taking a deep swig of my drink, realizing I’d probably need a lot more before I walked into that party. “I promise.”

  9

  Maggie

  Despite hearing everything that went on in her restaurant and her family, Mrs. C. didn’t seem to know how often Smoke and I spoke while he stayed with Dino in the hospital.

  If she had, maybe she would have pulled back on the dramatics when she reminded me of her husband’s birthday party.

  “It’s a little dinner,” she told me, sitting down on a bench at the back of the kitchen with a cooling rag wrapped around her neck. “It’s fine…no, no, I’m fine.” She waved away Denise when the manager offered her another glass of water. Mrs. C. refocused her attention on me, offering a weak smile that I wasn’t sure was genuine. “A small family meal to celebrate my husband’s birthday.” She released a heavy breath, one I was convinced by this point was definitely exaggerated before she dabbed at her sweaty forehead. “You know how he loves the bambino…and you. You both will come, of course…” She shut her eyes, pulling the rag free from her neck to cover her face. “Even you could not refuse an old, sick woman, now could you?”

  “No ma’am. Of course, I couldn’t.”

  There was no way I could turn down the woman after that performance.

  The truth was, I wouldn’t miss it for anything.

  As pathetic as I felt, Smoke had promised to make an appearance.

  “I can’t miss my pop’s party, bella, and the nurses here are taking good care of Dino,” he’d told me early Saturday morning when he called.

  “So, you’re coming back? Tonight?”

  “I have to settle a few things in the city and then I’ll be there. I promise.”

  When I dressed for the party, I made an extra effort with my hair and makeup and changed my outfit at least three times. It was ridiculous. Dante had been right. It had only been two weeks since I’d seen Smoke. Two weeks since that night on his desk and just the idea of seeing him again had me acting like a war bride antsy for her man to break formation and run at her after a two-year deployment. We really had nothing to complain about.

  Two hours of fussing over my hair and outfit and I found myself moving through the crowded dining area of the restaurant, my son being passed around the Carelli family. Mrs. C.’s “small family dinner” included the entire town, like most Carelli meals, but then Dante had warned me as much.

  “Ah, Maggie, he’s so beautiful,” Maria told me, her thin lips stretched so I could barely make out the red lipstick she used. “He gets bigger every time I see him!”

  “Yes,” I said, pulling off my jacket as Mateo got handed over to another aunt and laughed when the younger woman crossed her eyes at him.

  He was safe here, among these friendly people, but that didn’t keep me at ease. That didn’t happen until I spotted Toni across the room. The frown she wore changed when she spotted me, and her gaze shifted from Luca, who leaned on a chair behind her at the back of the room. As Smoke’s sister moved toward me, I spotted the way the handsome man watched her, the brown skin of his neck and face brightening when he moved his attention to her hips. Then Dario and Dante approached him, and Luca pulled his gaze from Toni and stood, shaking each of their hands.

  “Maggie,” she greeted me, kissing each of my cheeks before she tugged me away from the family and toward a quieter corner of the room. Over her shoulder, I spotted Mr. Carelli take Mateo and bounce him on his knee.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, moving my gaze toward the back of the room where Luca sat with her brothers.

  The three men kept to themselves, speaking behind their balled hands and bent heads, like there was business they had for each other and didn’t want anyone else to hear. If the months in this town, around Smoke’s family taught me anything, it was not to worry what happened between men in small crowds. If there was business between them, it was safer for me not to know.

  Toni looked over her shoulder, glancing toward where the men sat but didn’t turn around completely. “Never mind about that,” she said, grabbing a glass of wine from one of the servers as he passed. “Tell me what happened with you and Dimitri.”

  “Oh.” My stomach burned as the flash of that night in his office and the long, late conversations with him reran like some Hallmark movie in my head. “He…took care of me. Said he wanted to talk to me but then…Dino…”

  Toni nodded, her expression open, as she watched me. “He’s…different with you.”

  “How so?”

  Again, she looked over her shoulder as though she wanted to make sure no one heard her. Then the tall woman tugged me to the back of the bar where only a few servers milled around stacking empty plates and glasses. “Normally, that brother of mine is an asshole, I swear. Always barking orders at everyone, telling everyone what to do with their lives…where to live…who…who to love…” Antonia licked her lips, her breath hitching as she shot a glance across the room to where Luca sat. She gripped my wrist like she wanted to make sure I listened to her. “But for all his bossing and annoying bitching, he can keep you and that baby safe. It’s why I told you to go to him.”

  “Yes, I know what you told me,” I said, taking Toni’s glass to have a sip of her wine. “But do you think he could ever…”

  I tried to be strong. Brave. I tried to convince myself I didn’t need anyone but my son.

  But it was hard closing yourself off when all you wanted was to be protected. To be loved. I’d seen the way Luca and Toni watched each other. What she wanted from him and couldn�
�t have was written in every long, sad look she gave him. Of anyone, she’d understand what I wanted.

  “Do you think Smoke could ever…”

  “I don’t know,” she said, looking down. “My brother is…hard. Always has been. Since I was young, he’s been hard.”

  I took another long drink, trying to drown the disappointment I felt until Toni pulled on the glass, holding my wrist. “He makes me mad. He frustrates me, but what I see when he looks at you, what I see when you look back at him? Maggie…it feels different. It feels real.”

  Toni’s grip on my hand tightened and a soft, slow smile twitched over her bottom lip. There was something that reminded me that she didn’t have the hope I did when she looked at Luca. I knew that was tied up in the business he had with Smoke. I meant to ask. The question was on the tip of my tongue. I opened my mouth, began to speak, but then shut it as Paris walked behind us, frowning as she looked between the two of us.

  “Why are you here?” Toni asked the blonde before the woman ran off.

  I took Toni’s fingers, hoping she could see in my expression what Smoke meant to me. I hadn’t told anyone what I felt. Not even him. The fear was too real. Hope was a drug that tasted too sweet to me. I wasn’t sure I could trust him. Toni would know if I should risk it.

  Not seeing him, the ache in my chest had grown tighter with each passing day. There was just too much I wanted, and I was scared he wouldn’t give me everything he had of himself. If he was even capable of giving me what I needed from him.

  “Toni,” I said, knowing if anyone would understand, it would be her. “If he…isn’t all in… if he can’t…” The explanation stuck in my throat, weighed down by the realization of how much being burned by the person you loved could sting. “I don’t know if I’d…it would do me in.”