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“I’m really sorry you have to witness this,” Angela said to the nun.
But Sister Pip just smiled, patting Angela on the arm. “Never mind. Boys will be boys.”
Sal and Roman took advantage of a poisoned Abel, jumping on him. They only paused when the buzzer went off on the stove. Angela wasn’t sure how they heard it over the noise they were making, but all three stilled, and their heads came up like hounds on a scent.
“Dinner?” Sal questioned.
“Yes,” Luca confirmed. “It’s ready.”
They promptly untangled themselves, Abel getting in a cheap shot by grabbing Sal’s foot and pulling him down. Sal landed on his face and began cursing. “I win,” Abel said smugly. Then he walked over, greeting Sister Pip politely. “Sister, you look lovely this evening. Thank you for joining us.”
Sister Pip smiled. “Thank you for inviting me.” Her smile faltered a little. “Abel, dear. Is that a penis on your head?”
“Damnit!” Abel shouted. “I forgot about it.” He shot Roman and Sal a filthy look, scrubbing madly at his forehead with his bare hand. “I’ll get you for this. I won’t forgive. And I never forget.”
Roman and Sal didn’t looked particularly concerned. In fact, Angela could swear they were looking forward to it. When Abel went off to scrub his forehead while the rest of them went into the kitchen. “Your shoe,” she reminded Roman.
Roman looked down at his feet. He had one shoe on and the other was bare thanks to his recent strangulation of Abel. “On it,” he assured her.
“It smells amazing in here. What can I help with?” Sister Philomena asked.
“Nothing,” Sal replied, holding out a chair at the adjacent dining table. “You’re our guest. Just sit. Can I get you a drink?”
“I wouldn’t say no to that red wine I see sitting on the bench,” she said. “I’m sure it’s better than the communion wine.”
As Sal got to it, popping the cork, Claire arrived with Mario and Luigi close on her heels. “Is Abel here? He was supposed to pick up the dogs but never showed up.”
“Sorry. He was indisposed,” Roman said, greeting Claire.
Sister Pip cooed at the dogs, her aged hands patting their heads. “And how are you, Claire? I’ve been so worried.”
Claire glanced at her cast arm in the sling. “I’m fine. It hardly hurts.”
Angela doubted that very much. It was a nasty break.
“It all happened so fast,” Sister Pip said. “And you were so brave, saving Angela that way.”
Claire blushed, ducking her head. She looked like she wanted to be anywhere but there. Angela knew she hated being the center of attention. “Yes. I definitely owe you,” she said.
Claire opened her mouth to respond just as Abel walked in. She frowned at Abel. “What’s on your head?”
His forehead still had a faded black outline on it. “Nothing,” he snapped.
Angela knew he wasn’t mad at Claire, but her friend clearly did not. She flinched and tried to make herself as small as possible. The reaction broke her heart. Claire had been doing so much better, and Angela had been so distracted with all the Godfrey business that she had failed to check in with Claire’s mental health recently.
Claire’s reaction didn’t go unnoticed by any of them, least of all Abel, who looked immediately contrite. “Sorry,” he said gruffly.
Luca, empathetic soul that he was, took Claire’s uninjured hand in his and led her to a seat. He mock-whispered into her ear, “It’s a dick. But not just any dick. It’s Roman’s dick.”
Claire’s eyes widened. “Oh, I see it now. The famous magic cross.”
Everyone but Abel burst into laughter. “I don’t know why you’re laughing, Salvatore. You’re the one whose face touched Roman’s raw meat for real,” Abel divulged.
All laughter abruptly cut off. “Uh, say what now?” Angela had no idea what they were referring to.
Abel looked smug as hell as he took his seat at the table. “Roman turkey-slapped Sal a few months ago. Back when we had chickenpox.”
Sister Philomena blinked rapidly. “I really don’t know how to respond to that. I do hope you washed your face though, Salvatore.”
