Page 11 of Made in Love and Blood

“Sorry,” Frankie mumbled at the sharp look that came her way.

“Mmhmm.”

“It’s the same excuses.”

“I believe some things did come up for him today, and he meant to greet you at the door with your favorite takeout after missing the game, but then he got another call.”

Sissy’s coifed chignon tilted in the direction of a newspaper that had been left sitting on the edge of the kitchen island. She didn’t offer further explanation and allowed Frankie’s perusal of the headlining story to fill in the blanks.

SUSPECTED RUSSO MAFIA CAPO—

Frankie stopped reading. “Is that the Los Angeles Times?”

Her dad had been in California for the last several weeks. Now she knew why.

“He does have things going on,” Sissy said softly. “It’s better that you don’t know all the details, but perhaps you could occasionally look at the bigger picture.”

And he didn’t have a choice.

She knew that too well because her father told her so. He didn’t go into details. The one time she gained enough courage to outright ask about his connection to the mob left her with more questions than answers. His response still made her heart ache whenever she replayed the conversation to herself.

Don’t ever ask me things that’ll make me have to lie to you, Sunshine.

So, she didn’t ask and her father never told. Frankie remained as lonely as ever all the time in between.

“He loves you,” Sissy added as the ice cream took the brunt of Frankie’s pain. “More than anything in the whole world.”

“Yeah, I know.”

More than the moon, and stars, and galaxy. More than God. More than myself, he told her once.

Sissy offered nothing else while Frankie demolished the cookies and cream treat. It was only when her spoon scraped the bottom of the container that Sissy sighed.

“I should also let you know...”

“Oh, God. What?”

Sissy tried to smile, but it came off tight and untrue. Only one person could gain that sort of fake pleasantry from her. Even in the face of the seventeen-year-old she had practically raised.

“When?” Frankie demanded.

“Mrs. Gallo—”

“No.”

“Carina,” Sissy corrected with a roll of her eyes.

Between them, they didn’t have to bother with what Carina wanted to be called. Frankie refused to play that game.

“When?” she asked Sissy again.

“Tomorrow, I guess. Sometime. No one really knows. I wasn’t able to get a definitive time to expect her. She’ll pick her car up from storage and drive herself home. I do know that much.”

Which meant that Sissy had taken the time to talk to the head of the estate’s security, Larkin. He kept a general schedule and tab of everyone’s business and needs. The man of the house didn’t like surprises. The woman of it, on the other hand, didn’t listen well.

“Why?” Frankie asked, the question making Sissy glance away. “Why is she coming back from Milan this early? Wasn’t it supposed to be another month?”

Without a word, Sissy nodded toward the newspaper again. It connected the two things, in some way, which meant Carina’s early return had likely been a demand of her husband’s.