Paolo picked that moment to sidle up and level Chris with a doubtful, assessing stare. “What does that broad see in you?” Unsaid was his belief that Chris couldn’t attract a beautiful woman like Gwen.
Not surprised that it was Paolo, because he and Roberto had always conspired together, Chris said, “Oh, I don’t know, asshole. For starters, I think she sees a man who wouldn’t cheat on his woman the way you do. Or maybe she sees a man who will be there for her when she’s in trouble instead of being drunk in a bar while she rushes her baby to the emergency room alone. Or maybe she sees a man who doesn’t mind if she works but won’t force her to work outside the home either. Or”—he shrugged—“she could just see that I’m not an asshole and she likes that about me.” He stepped into Paolo’s space and growled, “And she’s not a broad.”
Paolo bared his teeth and Angelo and Carlo picked that moment to show up and clap hands on their brothers’ shoulders to keep them from going at it. Angelo murmured, “You two fight and Ma is gonna be pissed. Paolo, shut your fucking trap and stop baiting him. Chris, stop letting him get to you.”
Angelo held Chris in such a way that he couldn’t lash out at Paolo very effectively, but he found that he really didn’t have the desire to and relaxed. Angelo was right. Paolo just wanted a scapegoat to distract him from his unhappy life.
His brother released him once Chris relaxed a little more and then Angelo chuckled. “But seriously, what does she see in you?” He asked it in a joking way and Chris took it as intended, as he planted his fist not so gently in Angelo’s gut.
Angelo grunted. “Still got fists like anvils, I swear.”
Chris surveyed the room, inventorying the chaos of children running through, grown-ups talking, pets chasing each other occasionally, and he still didn’t see Gwen.
“Any idea where Ma and Grannie took Gwen off to?”
Angelo shook his head. “I saw Ma and Grannie in the kitchen right before I came in here. They sent me to check on you.”
Julián met his eyes across the living room and he shrugged and walked to the back door to check out there.
Just then, there was a loud yelp and a scuffle in the hallway and then a male exclamation. “Motherfucker!” The living room went as silent as a tomb in time for everyone to hear a thud. “Ow! Ow!”
“Who is cursing in my damned house?” his mother asked as she came scurrying from the kitchen with a big wooden spoon in her hand, followed closely by Grannie.
Everyone raised their hands, smart-asses that they were, and they all moved en masse to crowd the hallway, even the kids. Chris had a sinking feeling as he waded through the sea of chattering, wildly gesticulating family members.
Gwen was squarely at the center of the tumult, looking incredibly pissed and embarrassed. Her eyes searched the crowd until they landed on Chris and then relief filled her gaze. She knelt by Roberto, who was curled into a ball, whining in pain.
“What happened?” he asked softly as he squatted down beside her, although he already knew.
“I stopped in the bathroom for a minute after visiting with your mom and grandmother. When I came out he snuck up behind me in the dark hallway and tickled me hard.”
Disgusted, Chris stood and looked down at his brother and then turned to the men in the crowd “What’d I tell you guys about tickling Gwen? What’d I tell you?”
One of his younger nephews helpfully piped up. “You tol’ ’em that she’d hand ’em their nuts!”
Several people in the group snickered and word filtered through the crowd that Gwen had incapacitated Roberto.
Caterina piped up happily, “Oh, I like her even more now!”
“I told you she could defend herself and that she hates to be tickled.” He turned to Roberto who was now sitting up with blood streaming out of his nose. “What? Did you think you were gonna cure her of her aversion to being tickled, dickhead?”
A little voice whispered, “Ummm! Chris said dickhead.”
His mother indignantly waved the large wooden spoon in her hand. “What have I always told you boys?” Angelo ducked as she gestured with the wooden spoon. “You don’t know your own strength. A tickle should be an embrace, not an attack! Let me through.” She made a fist at Roberto as he sat there, eyes swelling shut, nose puffy, his shirt stained with blood. “You are the worst, Roberto! When you do that it hurts, damn it! Now you got exactly what you deserve. Bah! No wonder you’re still single! You apologize before I lay this across your ass!”
It didn’t matter that Roberto was thirty-seven. Chris knew she’d do it.