As the only one not in charge of a child, I moved to the sink more quickly than the other two women.
“Oh, God,” Santana groaned as I wet two rags to pass to them. “Remy’s going to think we were attacked by an ax wielding murderer.”
Following where she was looking, I was torn between wincing and laughing because what she’d said wasn’t wrong. Fortunately, none of the sauce had landed on or even come near the sleeping baby, but the blanket that’d been hanging over the edge of the buggy wasn’t so lucky.
“We’ll just say it was a crazy, tomato sauce loving psycho.” Sadie took the cloth from me and wiped her chest with it. “With a fetish for tits.”
Nonna must have felt bad about doing it because, for once, she spoke in proper English—you know, because she could. “I’m so sorry. I was dancing and listening to the music while the sauce boiled. It’s a fourteen hour sauce, you know,” she added to the girls like it made a big difference to them. “On hour thirteen, you have to add the last bits, or it doesn’t taste right.”
Both Santana and Sadie nodded, the Brit finally shocked into silence.
“At least it didn’t hit the babies,” I pointed out, tossing the rags in the direction of the sink. “Nonna, you already know Santana, but this is Sadie, Marcus’s brother’s wife, and their daughter, Bronte.”
“Ah, such beautiful names for such beautiful girls,” Nonna cooed, gently running her hand over the top of Bronte’s head and getting a grin from her. “Welcome to my home.”
“Or the dark pit,” I whispered under my breath, smiling sweetly when Nonna glared at me.
“You don’t have a hot internet date today, Mrs. V?” Santana asked, getting a snicker from Sadie.
I don’t know if she believed us when we said Nonna was a serial internet dater, but she’d soon find out.
“Pah.” She waved her hand through the air dismissively. “I have one tonight.”
Looking genuinely interested, Sadie passed Bronte to me and walked with Nonna back to the stove. “Are you getting dressed up for it?”
“Dressed up? I just use the filters, dear. Snapchat’s revolutionized online dating, and it’s amazing how many places have filters on their video chats now.”
Sadie blinked and then looked at me wide-eyed.
“Why don’t you ladies set the table while I add the pasta to the soup I’ve got waiting. Adia will be here soon, and she already called to tell me she’s hangry.”
So, that’s what we did, and when my sister arrived and jumped out of her vehicle, making a sort of war cry noise and getting responding ones from the kids, I ran screaming around the corner, accidentally carrying a fork with me.
And this was why I wasn’t fazed by the stories I’d heard about Marcus’s family—mine was equally crazy. The proof in that was when my sister cried out as it jabbed her in the side, kicked her flip flop off, and then started slapping me with it while Nonna watched us and clapping.
Forty minutes later…
Nonna’s chicken noodle soup was the best in existence, so I was excited when she put a bowl of it down in front of us all. We’d get to taste the sauce we were wearing when she served it later.
“So, what do you see yourself doing when you graduate, Adia?” Santana asked, reaching across for a piece of bread.
“I want to be an adoption counselor.”
Adia’s dreams hadn’t changed since she was seventeen, and had started watching a program about adoption. She’d been pissed about the time the show had dedicated to the support given to the adopting parents and how little counseling time had been shown for the birth mom or couple if they were together.
One of the ones that’d stuck out to her the most was a teenage couple, only sixteen years old, who’d put their baby boy up for adoption. They came from families that struggled with addiction, and both of their dads were in prison when the show was shot, so there was that going on, too.
In one scene, the young couple had gone to tell the girl’s dad that she was pregnant and they were giving the baby up for adoption, and the guy had lost his mind and had started screaming at them so badly, he’d been dragged back to his cell. Adia was so upset by it that she’d stayed up all night, crying about how hard it was for the kids anyway and wondering if they’d have support from a professional for longer than the adoption took to go through.
Relaying all this to Santana and Sadie, I watched as both women’s eyes turned glassy with tears.
Wiping her nose with her napkin, Sadie smiled sadly down at Bronte, who was sitting on her lap, chewing on a slice of bread.
“I’ve never thought about it like that. I have a huge amount of respect and admiration for both the birth and adoptive parents, but it never occurred to me what could be going on at home and the support the birth parents need past the actual run-up to the adoption.”