Page 150 of Mafia And Maid

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Page 150 of Mafia And Maid

I nod, grabbing my phone. “Okay, but if he’s busy, we’re not going to interrupt him. Then it’s time for dinner, bath, and bed.”

Ethan nods as he huddles up to me. “With video?”

“We’ll see.”

The phone rings once before Camillo’s gruff voice fills the room. “Ready to come home, Rosa?”

“Momma, video,” Ethan urges, tugging at the sleeve of my dress.

“Are you busy?” I ask in a small voice.

“For you? No.”

“Ethan would like to video call. Is that okay?”

“Give me a minute.” I’m not sure where he is, but he seems to be walking into another room. Then his face fills my phone screen, enough that I can’t really see his surroundings. There’s a fresh purpling to the left side of his jaw as if he’s been hit.

“I can be there in twenty minutes, Rosa; we didn’t need to video call.”

“Momma,” Ethan says, and I angle the phone toward him. “Are you going to do baseball without me?”

Camillo gives him a smile over the screen. ““No, buddy. I wouldn’t do it without you.”

I let them talk for a little while and then interrupt. “Ethan, baby, why don’t you go wash your hands before dinner? I’ll make sure you can say goodbye before I hang up.”

“But I—”

“Please.” I level my best mom-gazeat him.

“Okay, Momma.” I watch as he scampers off.

“Rosa, shall I come and get you both now?”

I can’t look at his face. I can’t watch that shutter fall back into place again. “I need to help my mother with the funeral preparations.”

“Okay…?”

“I have to help here. We have to stay here until then.”

“Oh.”

“Just until the funeral. Mother’s a wreck, and, well, Reagan isn’t much help either. They’re my family. You understand, right?”

He clears his throat. “I get it. Of course. I just—” He shakes his head, dismissing whatever he was going to say. “Can I help anyway?”

“Thanks, but we’ll be okay.” I let out a breath. “I appreciate it, though.”

Ethan rushes back from washing his hands. “Is Uncle Millo still there?”

“Yeah, buddy, I’m still here.”

“Can we call again so you can read when I go to bed?”

“Ethan, he might be busy…”

Camillo’s laugh fills the room. But it’s not his usual laugh. It’s different. “Sure, I can do that. But I’ve got some work to finish. I’ll send you a text when I’m home if it’s not too late. And Ethan? I’m not going to forget you or do anything I promised without you, okay?”

“Okay. Bye, Uncle Millo.” Ethan waves.




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