But when I hear Arlo’s laughter, I know the best things lie before me and not in the past.

  15

  Rocco and my mother are on the front porch, waiting for us when we pull in. They’re whispering, watching us as we weave our way through the two rows of cars filling the driveway.

  “Hey,” I say, giving my brother a chin lift.

  “Hey,” he replies with a smirk and the same chin lift.

  My mother comes down the two steps and meets us on the sidewalk. “I’m Izzy, Rocco and Mello’s mom.”

  Arlo smiles, coming to a stop, not knowing my mom is a hugger and is about to pull her in. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Arlo King.”

  Ma holds out her arms, motioning for Arlo to move forward. “We hug in this family, dear.”

  Arlo looks at me, and I nod, before she looks back at my mom. “Okay,” she whispers, stepping quickly into my mother’s embrace.

  “Another girl. The tide is turning in our favor.”

  Rocco shrugs at Arlo, who’s probably giving him a confused face. “She’s obsessed with adding females to the family.”

  Ma pulls back, her hands still on Arlo’s arms. “I wanted girls, but instead, I was given three pain-in-the-ass boys.”

  “You love us, though,” Rocco says.

  “Yeah. I do, but I would’ve loved to have a wee one to put a dress on and shop with.”

  “Well, you do it with Rebel, Liv, and Adaline now, Ma.”

  “True,” Ma says, smiling at Arlo as she finally releases her. “You can totally shop with us too. We go once a week and have lunch.”

  “Maybe,” Arlo says softly, moving away from my mother and coming back to my side.

  “Think about it.”

  “I will.”

  “Mello, bring her in and make sure to introduce her to everyone. Don’t do what your brother did with Rebel. Don’t be lazy.”

  “I won’t be,” I promise her. “She’ll meet everyone.”

  “Good.” Ma brushes her long brown hair over her shoulder, looking just as beautiful as she did when I was younger. “Welcome to the group, Arlo. Make yourself at home and eat a lot. It’ll make my mom happy.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Rocco shakes his head, and I brace for my mother’s reaction, knowing she’s always hated that word.

  “Never ma’am. Izzy, Isabella, or Mom.”

  “Got it, Izzy.” Arlo nods slowly. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I just never felt like a ma’am.”

  “Ma, it’s the South, for shit’s sake. You make us call other women ma’am,” Rocco reminds her.

  Ma smiles, turning to my brother. “It’s respectful, and that always makes me feel younger.”

  “You’re weird,” he replies.

  “A woman has to keep any edge she has.”

  I roll my eyes. “Can we go in?”

  Ma steps to the side, motioning for us to move.

  “Thanks,” I say, giving her a wink and getting one in return.

  I seriously have the world’s best mother. She’s a total badass. She had to be in order to raise three crazy-as-hell boys who were hell-bent on trying to end their lives with insane antics at a young age. Then there’s my father, who isn’t easy by any stretch of the imagination. Somehow, she managed not to go insane over the last thirty-plus years, instead handling us with love and grace.

  “Ready?” I ask Arlo as we step inside.

  “Yeah. I think so,” she says, but she’s lost some of the color in her face, clearly nervous.

  “They’re going to love you, and anyway, they’re busy with their own Sunday routines. They’ll barely pay any attention to you.” I keep her at my side, pressing against her lower back to move her forward.

  I eat those words as soon as we leave the foyer and hit the back of the house, where the kitchen and living room are.

  Every member of my family is silent, staring at us with goofy smiles.

  “Um,” Arlo whispers.

  “Hi,” I say, but it comes out more like a question.

  My gram steps between us and them. “Hi, sweetie. Don’t mind the nosy rosies. They’re harmless, and they’re staring at Carmello, not you.”

  “Okay,” Arlo says, moving into my side.

  “Hey, Gram.”

  “Baby,” she whispers, reaching up to touch my face, followed by pressing her lips to my cheek. “You look happy.”

  “I am happy.”

  “Good,” she says, her face soft and sweet. “That’s all a grandmother wants to hear.”

  “I’m Gram,” she says to Arlo. “You can call me Gram, Nonna, or Grandma. I refuse to answer to anything else at my age and when we’re with family.”

  “But I’m not family,” Arlo replies, and I brace myself again, knowing my family is a pain in the dick about this shit.

  “If Mello brought you here, you are. And anyway, anyone who walks through my front door becomes an honorary member. You’re in now for as long as you want. Now, come here and give me a hug.”

  Arlo looks at me, and I give her a little shove forward. There’s no getting away from the formalities of this family, no matter who the person is.

  “So pretty,” Gram says, wrapping Arlo in her arms. “My grandson did good.”

  “Lily set us up,” I tell my grandma for no reason at all.

  Gram smiles as she lets go of Arlo. “Then this one’s a good girl, too. None of that trash I know he’s been seen around town with for years.”

  My face heats, and I can’t look her in the eyes. “That’s not true.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Carmello. Small towns make word travel fast and wide. I hear things, and you tend to be the favorite topic of the worst gossips.”

  “Sorry, Gram,” is all I can say. “I’ll do better.”

  “Just be you.”

  “I always am.”

  “Lord, how I know. Now, go introduce your girl to everyone.”

  Arlo is about to open her mouth, but I jump in and say, “Will do, Gram.”

  “Lovely to meet you, Arlo. Please don’t leave here hungry.”

  Arlo smiles. “Based on the smell, I don’t think that will be an issue.”

  “Need to fatten you up. No babies as long as you’re that skinny.”

  “What?” Arlo’s eyes widen.

  “Nothing, sweetie,” Gram says before wandering away.

  The others are still relatively quiet, whispering among themselves, probably placing bets on how long my relationship will last. Can’t say I blame them. I’ve never settled down, and before Arlo, I never planned to either.

  “Arlo, this is my nosy-as-hell family.” I wave my arm out, motioning toward the entire group.

  They all smile in unison, looking creepy as fuck.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with them,” I whisper to her. “It’s like they’ve all lost their minds.”

  “No, son. Seeing you here with Arlo is like looking into the sky and seeing God himself descending through the clouds. Two things we never anticipated experiencing in our lifetimes,” my grandpa says, stepping through the group.

  I shake my head, trying to hold back my laughter at their stupidity. “That’s ridiculous.”

  Grandpa places his hand on my shoulder and gives me a wink. “The truth sometimes is, but you made us think it was never going to happen.” He then moves his eyes to Arlo. “Hello, sweet girl. Welcome to our home.”

  “Thank you,” Arlo replies.

  “These are my kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids. If they say anything crazy, ignore them. They’re not all right in the head because we spoiled them.”

  “Pop, stop lying,” my uncle Joe says. “You’re hardly normal, so stop acting like you are.” My uncle lifts his hand in greeting to Arlo. “I’m his uncle Joe, Gigi’s father.”

  Arlo smiles, her cheeks turning pink. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “You have your hands full with this one,” Uncle Joe says.

  Her smile widens as she looks at me and then back to him. “I’m well aware.”

  “Nothing about him has been easy since he was born,” Uncle Joe says.

  “Can we not kick up the last thirty years just this second?” I ask him, knowing my family has been salivating for this moment. “Save it for next time.”

  Uncle Joe raises an eyebrow. “Sure, kid. I got a lifetime, and I’m a patient man.”

  “That shit is the truth,” my mom mutters.

  “I’m going to run down the line. Everyone keep gawking like weirdos until I say your name and then peel your ass away and go back to acting as normal as you possibly can.”

  Dad laughs in the background, keeping watch over the family, and my mom is at his side, snuggled against him.

  I go down the line, starting from left to right, and Arlo’s body is completely still. I know it’s a lot to take in, and she’ll never remember who they are, but I want them to go back to acting semi-normal in front of her, or else she’ll never come over again.

  When I’m finally done, they do as I asked, peeling off and going back to their usual places. The older adults head to the living room, some of the women, especially my cousins, head to the lanai, and the younger people move toward the den. The people who can cook go to the kitchen to finish prepping dinner, which is no easy feat with this many people.

  The only person who doesn’t move is my father. He takes a few steps forward, stopping right in front of us. “I’m James, Carmello’s dad.”

  “Hi,” she squeaks, tipping her head back to make eye contact.

  He gives her a genuine smile. “They’re a lot, but don’t worry, Arlo. Once you’re in, no one will love you more deeply than this family.”

  Arlo’s mouth opens and closes, but nothing comes out.

  Dad looks at me and then back to her. “You okay?”

  “Great. Great,” she replies, finding her words, but she hasn’t taken her eyes off him. “I’m sorry. I’m just totally dumb struck by how much your boys look like you. I mean, Mrs. Caldo is beautiful, but you’re…you’re…”

  “Fuck me,” I mutter.

  Her gaze swings to me. “You come from good genes, Mello. That’s all. You have to remember, I have no idea what my parents look like. I can see where you get your eyes, your nose, your jaw. I don’t have that, and it always throws me off when I see people with their parents. You and your two brothers all look more like your dad—with tiny splashes of your mom too, of course.”

  “My genes are stronger, but that’s not surprising,” Dad says proudly.

  “Even your genes are bossy, Pop.”

  Dad’s smile is genuine. “Arlo, what did you mean about your parents? Were you adopted?”

  “I was right after I was born.”

  “And you didn’t ask your parents about them?”

  Her gaze dips to the floor. “They died when I was eight.”

  Dad’s face changes, and he’s no longer smiling. “And what happened to you?”

  “Foster care,” Arlo whispers. “And after I turned eighteen, I never bothered looking for them.”

  “I’m sorry,” he says to her. “If you ever want to look for them, you come see me and I’ll do my best to find them.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Caldo.”

  “James,” he corrects her. “And no problem. My door is always open to you.”

  “You probably won’t hear from me. They haven’t looked for me, so I don’t know why I’d look for them.”

  Dad reaches out and takes Arlo’s hands in his. “You don’t know that. When kids enter foster care, it’s easy for records and files to be lost or mislabeled. They may have looked but came up with nothing but dead ends.”

  Her shoulders slump, but she does her best to recover, giving him a smile. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Good. Now, I’m going to go watch the game. You two enjoy yourself.” Dad dips his chin and gives my shoulder a tight squeeze.

  “Thanks, Pop.”

  “I can’t believe you’re related to all these people,” Arlo tells me once my dad stalks off. “I will never remember their names.”

  My heart aches for her because I know she has no one except biological parents she’s never met. I squeeze her hand and smile. “Every single one, and I know I’m lucky as shit. They’re a lot to take in. Don’t worry about remembering their names. Use Mr. or Mrs. Gallo when in doubt, and ninety-five percent of the time, you’ll be right.”

  “Can we go over some of them again? I really pride myself on remembering names and details.”

  “We can do whatever you want,” I tell her, liking the idea that she wants to take the time to get to know my family.

  “Who’s he again?” she asks, ticking her head directly across the room.

  “That’s my cousin Morgan. His mom, Aunt Fran, and my grandpa are brother and sister. His wife’s name is Race, and he works with my dad at ALFA.”

  “And Fran is married to Dog?”

  I shake my head. “She’s married to Bear.”

  “Ahh. Right. Bear,” she repeats.

  “Bear is one of my uncle Joe’s oldest friends.”

  She looks at me funny. “So, his good friend married his aunt?”

  I grimace. “When you put it that way, it sounds gross.”

  “I’m just getting the logistics down. I’m not making any judgments.”

  “That’s like me marrying one of my aunt’s friends, which is just weird.”

  Arlo pats my hand. “Don’t think about it.”

  “I’m trying not to,” I mutter with a shiver.

  “And him?” she asks, changing the subject.

  “Bear’s son, Ret.”

  “And the two women at his side?”

  “One is his wife, and the other is their…”

  “Got it,” she says quickly, not letting me finish. “I can figure that one out.”

  “Alese and Nya are their names. They’ve been together as long as I’ve been alive.”

  “It looks like it works for them.”

  “They have two sons a little younger than me. Both are in the military somewhere in the world, but their location is secret. Ret is former military, and the boys took after him.”

  “Interesting,” she whispers. “He looks former military.”

  “He works at ALFA with my dad too.”

  “So, you weren’t kidding about everyone either working at ALFA or Inked, were you?”

  “Told ya, babe. Tamara and Mammoth have their own business, but you’ve been there. And Lily’s mom owns a clinic, but other than that…pretty much.”

  “That’s amazing. Your family is really interesting.”

  “I guess they are,” I tell her.

  “Hey,” Lily says, locking her arm with Arlo’s before we have a chance to take a step. “The girls want you to come outside and hang out.”

  Arlo looks at me. “You mind?”

  “No, sugar. You go with Lily. I’ll deal with my mom.”

  “I should stay with you,” she replies.

  I shake my head. “Go, babe. Hang out with the ladies. I’m sure they want all the juicy details. It’s like gossip central out there.”

  “Shut up,” Lily snaps. “We don’t gossip. We share the truth and talk about the guys and their shit-tastic behavior. Anyway, she was mine first.”

  “Technically, she wasn’t,” I tease, but before I can say anything more, Lily pulls Arlo outside, closing the door behind them and heading right toward the table with Gigi, Tamara, Rebel, and Jo.

  “Man, your ears are going to be on fire, brother,” Trace says, coming to stand next to me and staring out the sliding glass door. “How you got such a fine piece of ass…I’ll never know.”

  “She’s not a piece of ass. Watch your mouth.”

  “Touchy fucker, aren’t you?”

  I turn my head, glaring at my younger, cockier brother. “Just keep her name off your tongue.”

  He smiles. “I like this caveman side of you. It’s kind of full of anger just below the surface, which is a nice change.”

  “Anger is never a good look,” I tell him.

  He smirks. “Nah. It suits you along with the territorial alpha trait from Dad you’re letting loose.”

  I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Why are you busting my balls, Trace?”

  “Because I can,” he says and then walks away.

  “Don’t listen to that little shit,” Aunt Fran says, coming to stand at my side, clearly eavesdropping. “He’s jealous, baby. It looks like you may have finally gotten your head out of your ass and found yourself a good girl.” She hooks her arm through mine, putting her head against my bicep. “Now, don’t fuck it up.”

  I peer down at her salt-and-pepper hair. “And how do I make sure I don’t do that, Auntie?”

  “Always make her feel like the most important thing in the world and never take whatever piece of herself she gives you for granted. Even the strongest person wants someone in their corner, having their back, and showering them with love. She’s no different. A good woman is worth the extra effort and sometimes requires more attention and understanding. I know you two are new to each other, but don’t use that as an excuse to be lazy.”

  “Got it, Auntie. Thanks.”

  “And when all else fails, use what the good Lord gave you to dickmatize her.” I give her a pained look.

  “Dickmatize,” she repeats with a quick nod. “Bear dickmatized me, and I didn’t even really like him then.”

  “Woman, you’re lying. You always liked me,” he says from a few feet away, also eavesdropping. “But I did give you the good dick, so I won’t disagree with the dickmatizing.”

  My stomach rolls because I don’t want to talk about sex or dicks with Aunt Fran and Uncle Bear. “Thanks for the great advice,” I tell her and him, although he hasn’t added much to the conversation.

  “The way to a woman’s heart isn’t just by listening to them talk and giving them attention. You got to give them the good dick and lots of orgasms. It’s amazing how many assholes can’t find a clit to save their own life. Orgasms make you memorable.”

  I look around, hoping someone’s nearby to save me from this awkward and uncomfortable conversation with my aunt and uncle, but there’s no one. “I’ll remember this conversation for the rest of my life,” I grumble.