Mafia Casanova

I welcomed the love they brought into our son’s world.

“Mama!” Naz exclaimed, kissing my face, getting cake frosting all over my cheeks.

I happily finished cleaning him up before I searched around the room, finding his father at the bar, serving himself a drink.

Shit. I thought we talked about this, Tristian.

“I’ll take him.” Tristian’s mom grabbed Naz out of my arms. “Go handle your husband,” she announced, catching me off guard.

I didn’t respond, too focused on the task at hand. All I thought about was how I was going to handle this in front of all these people. It was getting harder to hide this side of Tristian that no one was supposed to know about. At least that was what I thought, but there was his mother proving me wrong.

“Tristian,” I muttered under my breath, bringing his gaze to mine. “I thought you weren’t going to drink today. You promised, remember?”

He didn’t hesitate in his brute reply, “You promised a lot of things too, Eden. In front of God, remember?”

He tilted the rest of the drink back, the large solitary ice cube bumping against his lips before he wiped them with the back of his hand in one familiar movement.

I shook my head, not understanding. This was what my husband had become, throwing jabs at me every chance he got. Most of the time, I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about because he was belligerently drunk. What did he need to get drunk for when, according to him in public, he had the perfect life?

I opened my mouth to respond, though I caught myself when I followed his curt nod behind me. In one swift turn, I was locking eyes with his brother, who was greeting a few associates by the door.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I spoke the truth, facing Tristian again. “You’re drinking because Romeo showed up to his nephew’s third birthday party? How old are you right now? You’re acting like a child.”

He was in my face in a split second, his eyes full of rage. “Did you invite him?”

I stepped back, placing my hand on his chest to steady my composure. He was throwing me all out of whack. “I did the invitations with your mother. She knows who we need to invite. God forbid I forget one important person and start a war with the families. She must have invited him.”

“Then, I’ll need to take it up with my mother.”

“How about you take it up with your wife? You said you weren’t going to drink today, and here you are standing at the bar, fixing yourself another whiskey on the rocks. It’s your son’s birthday. Can you behave yourself? We have videographers and photographers taking footage of today. The last thing I want is for Naz to look back on the memories only to see his father hammered.”

As soon as the last word left my mouth, Tristian added more whiskey to his drink, eyes locked on me the entire time. He lifted his drink and gulped it down in one swig. Slamming the glass on the bar when he was done.

“It’s one drink,” he argued, already serving himself another.

Actually, it was two going on three, all within a span of five minutes.

I couldn’t help myself; I wasn’t going to let him ruin this for Naz. I snatched the bottle out of his hand, only to have him come at me. Before he was able to grab my arm, the person I least expected stepped in between us.

Placing his hand on his brother’s chest, Romeo interrupted, “Is there a problem?”

Tristian didn’t miss a beat, spewing, “Yeah. You.”

“Good to see you too, Tristian.”

“I suggest you take your hand off me and run along to find one of your whores for the night. My wife and I were having a private conversation, so mind your own fucking business.”

Romeo cocked his head to the side, and I stood there, just shaking mine.

How had we come to this?

“Looked more like an argument to me,” Romeo stated flatly, unfazed by the temper Tristian had developed.

His fuse was getting shorter as the days were becoming longer.

Romeo declared battle, countering, “I’m not leaving unless Eden tells me to.”

Tristian glared at him. “Of course, always have to be the hero, don’t you, dear brother?” He shoved his arm off his chest. “Get the fuck out of my face before I—”

“Boys!” their mother interjected, tearing apart the blatant standoff. “Enough.” She grabbed Tristian’s shoulder, handing him Naz. “Look at your boy. Now be the man I raised you to be and celebrate the day with your son.”

Tristian passed Naz over to me, pompously walking away without once looking back.

“How long have you known?” I questioned their mom, bringing both her and Romeo’s worried stares over to me.

“A mother knows everything. You’ll learn that with Naz,” she reaffirmed, peering from my gaze to her son’s. “Please make sure your brother stays in line. If your father sees him disrespecting the family, it won’t be pretty, and I don’t want that for Tristian.”