Page 119 of It's Always Sonny

“He’s not a useless, feckless tool, so I doubt she’s capable of seeing him as a romantic possibility.”

“She has the worst taste in men. Unlike someone I know,” I tease.

“Who, Jane?”

“PJ—”

“Oh, you mean Millie?”

“Parker Jane—”

She eyes me possessively. “My taste isn’t bad, either.”

“Come here,” I say, bending down and kissing her right below her ear.

“Put a ring on it first!” Nonna yells, and PJ squeaks nervously, swats me, and backs away.

And I follow.

After everyone has packed and our bags are in Nonna’s lodge, we all meet in the pavilion for one last time. The mood is almost glum. We live for these reunions. All of us. Noah is teaching Harry how to play solitaire, Felix and Max are under the table tying Chris’s shoelaces together. My parents are laughing with my aunts and uncles. And Nonna is looking wistfully at us all.

“Does she seem happy?” PJ asks, looking at Nonna.

“I think she’s probably anticipating the goodbye,” I say.

“I don’t know. See the way she’s feeling her ring finger? I think she’s lonely.”

I put my arm around PJ, pulling her close. “It’s hard being without the person who makes you whole.”

Aunt Elaine and Cousin Emma wave at PJ, who joins them on the side of the small stage where Nonna and Great Aunt Mary are seated. The storm derailed PJ’s blackout bingo, but the winner will still get the trophy, which Ash managed to pick up in Columbia this morning.

Aunt Elaine shares her heartfelt gratitude that we could all be together to celebrate Nonna’s eightieth birthday. She pulls up a slideshow of Nonna that Emma created, and we all watch the highlights reel of Nonna’s life, from her earliest years to marrying Nonni and having kids to her opening up her Slendorama gym. We see her as a mother, grandmother, and great grandmother. We see pictures of her and Great Aunt Mary on trips and cruises around the world.

“Not that we’ll get to take anymore of those, thanks to that rotten man,” Mary says.

“Oh, stop,” Nonna says as the slideshow continues. “It’s water under the bridge.”

“A bridge we’ll never get to see since he got you put on the No Fly List,” Mary grumbles.

“Forgive and forget, Mary.”

“Forgive? What have you done with my sister? I want to plant a fake bomb in his bag—”

“Not funny, Aunt Mary,” my dad says. “We don’t plant fake bombs.”

PJ catches my eye and we both duck our heads to laugh.

When the slideshow ends, we all applaud. My dad and his siblings get up and each give a toast to Nonna while PJ brings the birthday cake in.

She has mini cupcakes with the wrappers already peeled off for the kids, because her thoughtfulness knows no bounds.

“Mom, why don’t you say a few words?” my dad urges.

Nonna frowns, and I think she’s about to decline when she nods instead. She walks over to where my dad is standing, and he puts his arm around her tiny shoulders.

“Thank you for coming,” she says simply. She sounds more emotional than I’ve heard her since her second son’s funeral. “I’m not a woman of many words. You all know that about me.”

“But the words you say are the best, Nonna!” Noah says.

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