Page 78 of Thin Lives

Affonso sighed heavily. “He’s not back yet.”

“It’s fine,” Calisto said, wanting to get the hell out of there as fast as possible. “I can see him on another day, uncle. I’m sure you’ll have a dinner or something.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Affonso passed Calisto another one of his cool looks that screamed his displeasure. “You can wait a while. What is wrong with you? You look like something is on your mind. Have I missed something?”

Calisto knew, just by the way Affonso was focusing in on him, that if he didn’t give his uncle something to consider, he would continue bothering Calisto until he had what he wanted. “I didn’t understand why you waited so long to call me to the hospital. That was all. I figured you wouldn’t mind if I didn’t see the baby for another few days.”

Affonso raised a single brow high. “I’m being cautious.”

“Oh?”

“The Irish,” Affonso said simply. “And isn’t that enough? My son has been born, they’re in a rage, and I barely survived their first attack. I didn’t want all of us in one place at the same time. It would be like waving a giant red flag and practically asking them to come at me once more.”

The moment Affonso started talking, Calisto knew his uncle was lying.

Why?

Because at that very moment, the most important people in the Donati Cosa Nostra were all in the same spot, the very same place, and they were together.

Affonso, the boss. His wife, and newborn son. Ray, the family underboss. And Calisto, Affonso’s right-hand man as his consigliere.

Yes, he was lying through his teeth.

That only made Calisto even more distrustful of his uncle than he already was. He still thoroughly believed Affonso had something to do with the priest’s death, and from that moment on, he had walked on egg shells around his uncle, torn between a loyalty he had always felt, and the distrust that now colored his view.

Calisto didn’t want to feel this way.

Affonso was the one who didn’t give him a choice.

“There he is,” Affonso said, bringing Calisto from his thoughts.

Sure enough, a nurse walked in behind the windows, holding baby Cross in her arms. All over again, Calisto’s heart ached and his soul hurt in a way he couldn’t explain when he looked at the child.

“Handsome, isn’t he?” Affonso asked.

Calisto forced himself to speak. “He is. You should be proud, uncle.”

Affonso smiled, and for once, it didn’t come off as cold. “Well, I suppose I have Emma to thank for that, hmm? She managed to do something right, for once.”

Ouch.

“She birthed you a healthy child,” Calisto said quietly. “I would think that in itself should be—”

“She did something all women do, Cal. Do not mistake my gratitude for admiration.” Affonso stared at the baby as he was placed in a plastic bassinet. “And he isn’t entirely healthy—he’s got a touch of jaundice, and his oxygen fluctuates a bit too much.”

“You said he was early by a few weeks.”

“Almost two months,” Affonso replied, still focused in on the baby and not Calisto. “He had a little while longer to stay inside his mother, but what can you do when you have a defective woman?”

But Calisto was listening—he heard the vileness coming from Affonso, but he heard something else, too.

Almost two months early …

Calisto counted back the months in his head, only now realizing something frightening but important. Maybe he had overlooked it because it was only recently Calisto learned about the period of a couple of months’ time when he had stepped in for Affonso because the man up and left his famiglia and his wife behind, only coming back after Calisto’s accident. It was just another lie Affonso had told.

Those lies were adding up. They were making mountains Calisto couldn’t ignore.

He did the math again.