“No, their mother wanted them to be driven. She has enough going on right now without someone betraying her trust,” I tell Emilio.
He sighs heavily. “Well, look for two dapper dudes with mirrored sunglasses and high-dollar shoes. They’ll rent a bigger van, too, and I’ll just have someone else drive mine back.”
“Oh, can they do the driving?” I ask, suddenly excited.
“I think they’ll insist on it,” Emilio says.
Mick gives me a thumbs-up, and his eyes sparkle with excitement. Who knew driving across the country would be so tiring?
“Okay,” I say. “We’ll be on the lookout for them.”
“So, how’s the trip going?” Emilio asks.
I take the phone off speaker and Mick goes to put the groceries away in the cooler and in the fridge. “It’s going fine. The kids are great. They’re amazing, really.”
“How’s it going with Mick?” he asks.
“Fine.” I smile against the phone.
“Jesus,” he mutters. “Do I seriously have to ask?”
“Ask what?”
“Are you in love with him yet? Marta wants to know.”
“Yeah, sure, it’s just Marta w
ho wants to know.”
“Well, I need to know if I should start saving up for a wedding.”
Saving up? Emilio could buy and sell half of New York with the money he has put back from his days playing music. “I don’t think so.”
“Is he standing right there?”
“No, he’s about ten feet from me in the kitchen.”
“He’s being nice to you, right? He treats you like he should?”
Mick comes around the corner carrying a small tub of my favorite ice cream and two spoons. “He does,” I admit.
Mick pops the top on the container and sits back against the couch with his arm touching mine. I suddenly want to get off the phone really bad. “Thanks for setting up the security, Melio,” I say.
“Anything for you, kiddo,” he says. I imagine him pulling the elastic band from his long silver hair so he can adjust his low ponytail, like he always does when he gets sentimental. It’s one of his tells.
“I love you, Melio,” I say.
“I love you too,” he says quietly. “I guess I better go. I got invited to play cards with the Reeds.”
“Did Marta say you could go play cards?”
He laughs. “You know, I might have left my balls in her purse a few times through the years, but she doesn’t care if I go play cards. So, I didn’t even ask.”
“Way to keep hold of your balls,” I say.
Mick gives me a questioning glance. I wave my hand to tell him it’s nothing. Just silliness.
“Besides, someone has to take Henry’s place.”