That was a few months before we found out about the twins and started the adoption process. It’s been almost two years since that night at the club, and Toni hasn’t lost his temper yet. I’m beginning to worry that when he does finally lose it, it’ll be far more explosive.
“No buts,” Toni says, interrupting the mounting temper tantrum.
Oh, he's good at that. With that stern look and the take-no-shit voice. If they had come to me, I would've given in to their demands, and the way Sky's eyes bounce between Toni and me, he knows it too.
“Okay, who wants breakfast?” I ask, throwing the comforter off and stepping into the slippers on my side of the bed.
The twins groan and shake their heads when they get a look at the grey, white, and red slippers.
“You brought the slippers with you, didn’t you?” Toni asks from his perch on the bed.
“Of course I did,” I answer, shrugging into one of Toni’s old college t-shirts.
“You couldn’t have picked anything other than giant shark heads?” Skylar says, eyeing the slippers with distaste.
“I like them, Dad,” Dylan says, trying to be supportive even though I can tell that he doesn’t really mean it.
“Thanks, Kiddo.” I ruffle his shaggy brown hair and slip between him and his brother to head to the kitchen and start breakfast.
“Can I help?” Dylan asks, climbing up onto one of the bar stools while I go about the kitchen and start removing the bacon, eggs, milk, and package of cinnamon buns from the fridge.
“Are you going to steal a cinnamon bun before it goes in the oven?” I ask, eyebrow raised as I look between the package in my hand and my son sitting across from me with an angelic look on his face.
“I make no promises.”
Laughing, I hand him the package and then get out a cookie sheet and aluminum foil for him. “Fine, but don’t let your brother see you,” I warn.
The last time I bought cinnamon buns, Dylan and Toni devoured the entire package raw before it ever made it into the oven. Skylar was pissed and refused to talk to his twin for a full day. It was Skylar's absolute favorite food. I swear, the kid could live on them if we allowed him to.
Just as I’ve put the cinnamon buns in the oven – Dylan was true to his word and only ate one raw – and have got the bacon sizzling in a pan, the front door opens and Lily comes bounding in, barely getting her shoes off at the door.
“Uncle Toni!” She yells down the hallway.
“What’s up, Lily Pad?” Toni says, entering the living room with Skylar on his heels, his face buried in Toni’s iPad.
“Cooper won’t teach me how to throw a punch.” She pouts while folding her arms across her chest.
“And why would you need to know how to do that?”
“Because Jimmy said I punch like a girl.”
“Who’s Jimmy?” I ask, turning around to face them after flipping the bacon.
“This boy at school,” Skylar says, he’s eyes still glued to the glowing screen. “He’s been pushing Lil around and calling her names.”
“He what!?” Toni exclaims and I think he’s about one point five seconds away from losing it in front of the kids, but then Lily slips her hand into his and I can see him making an effort to take calming breathes and focus on his God Daughter.
“It’s okay, Uncle Toni. Dylan and Skylar have my back,” she says, beaming up at him but then her forehead crinkles with little lines and her smile slips just a little. “I still want to punch him in the balls.”
“Liliana!” Toni admonishes, trying to keep a straight face but his lips twitch.
“We’ll teach you how to punch, Lil,” Dylan offers from his seat on the sofa and Skylar nods, still not taking his attention off the screen. I guess Dylan ‘helping’ me with breakfast, really meant putting the cinnamon buns in the oven so that he can steal one before and after they’re ready.
My gaze connects with Toni’s from across the two rooms. A silent question in his eyes. How much will my best friend kill me for teaching his daughter how to throw a punch? I raise an eyebrow in reply. Braxton will probably shit bricks and Klara will have to convince him that killing his best friend is not a good thing, he’ll then shake it off and probably teach his daughter how to throw a punch himself. Probably.
I shake my head and go back to plating breakfast. Every time I think I have the De Luca men figured out, something else happens that throws a wrench in that theory.
“Lil,” Skylar’s voice carries through to the kitchen. “Is Coop awake yet?”
Dylan’s head pops up from the comic book he’s reading, his gaze bouncing between his twin and Lily. The kid found my stash of comic books in a box in our attic and started slipping them out of their protective covers so he can read them. I can’t even be mad at the kid. At least he’s reading. But every time he goes near one with peanut butter still smeared over his fingers, I want to cringe and cry and yank them away from them to put back in the box and out of his reach. But, I don’t. I can’t bring myself to take away the one item that brings him out of his shell. Both boys started doing kickboxing with Toni about six months go. They both love it, Skylar more than Dylan. But when Dylan gets a comic book in his hands… it’s like he becomes a different kid.
"What do you love most about comic books?" I ask, fingering through the others in the box. I forgot I had some of these.
Dylan’s quiet for so long I think he didn’t hear me, but when I turn to look at him, his head is bowed, and a blush creeps up his face as he anxiously fingers the corner of the book in his hand.
“Dylan?”
He sighs, "it's going to sound weird."
“Nothing you tell me will ever sound weird,” I say.
He raises an eyebrow and I laugh. “Okay, most things.”
He grins, but it's short-lived. He bites down on the corner of his lip and flicks his eyes to the black television screen above the fireplace mantel.
“It makes me forget,” he says, avoiding my eyes.
“Forget what?” I ask, but I have a feeling I know.
"Forget everything before this place. Sky tries to pretend like nothing happened like you and Toni have always been our parents, but it's harder… for me." His shoulders slump forward like he's unsure if he should go on.
Their story is the reason why Toni and I chose these boys. Sure, we could’ve picked a newborn instead of the twins, but the minute I saw their picture and heard their story I knew they were meant to be part of our family.
“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me,” I say quietly, and place a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
“I do!” He answers quickly, sitting up straighter. He swallows hard. “I mean, I want to.”
“Okay, D. Whenever you’re ready. Take your time.”
Dylan nods and averts his eyes down to the comic book in his lap. His fingers gently tracing the lines of the superhero.
"They weren't very nice people," he begins, and I have to bite my tongue from asking him who he's talking about. I don't have to wait long, though. "Mr. and Mrs. Mead. We weren't even allowed to call them by their first names or mom and dad. Not that we'd want to."
When Dylan’s sad eyes rise to mine, I nod in silent reassurance for him to go on.
"They were always fighting around us and the other kids. Even when we went to bed, the fighting would get louder. Sky and I weren't allowed to share a room while we were there," he pauses and looks back up at me with sadness in his forest-green eyes. "We always shared a room," he adds before looking back down at the comic book.
Now it's my turn to swallow hard. To swallow back the tears I can feel forming because I know what comes next.
“One night, I heard something crash downstairs. It woke me up and I guess… I guess I had kinda forgotten where we were. I tried calling out for Sky, but he wasn’t in the room. He… none of his stuff was there and I got scared. I-I don’t remember what happened next, but Mr. Mead came in and yelled at me. He told me to stop being a baby
and that if I wanted to cry, he’d give me something to cry about.”
Dylan’s words break off as he buries his head in his hands and uncontrollable sobs rack his body. Tears stream down my face as I wrap an arm around him and pull him into my side, kissing the top of his head and just hold him while he cries.
There have been many nights since we were named the boys’ guardians that I’ve thanked God, the Meads were arrested and charged with not only child neglect but assault too. Heaven knows how many other kids he hurt that we’ll never know about. Mrs. Mead claimed she had no idea what her husband had been doing upstairs in the kids’ rooms at all hours of the night, but I call bullshit. No fucking way did she not know. Especially if the kids were crying out for someone to help them.
Neither of the boys have wanted to talk about what went on in the foster homes before this. Toni and I read their file but hearing it straight from them is different. I hold my son tighter while we both cry. I blow out a breath and get ready to ask the question I'm not sure I want the answer to. Dylan's assault was the only one recorded in the file.
“D, did he ever,” I breathe in deep before trying again. “Did he ever hurt Skylar?”
Dylan shrugs. “I-I don’t know. Sky didn’t say anything. I mean, I asked once, but he just said that everything was okay now.”
Fuck.
I clear my throat and try to push the nagging thoughts down for now. The bright colors of the comic book catch my eye. Tapping the page, I ask, "you never said why comic books."
The smile Dylan levels me with when he looks up at me is blinding. “Because you and Toni are our superheroes. You saved us from that place.”
And just like that, this boy and his twin own my heart.
“No. He’s still sleeping,” Lily answers scooting closer to Skylar to watch over his shoulder as he continues playing his game.
“Cinnabon buns are done!” Dylan says excitedly while jumping up from the sofa and racing back into the kitchen when the oven timer beeps.
“Slow down, Flash,” I laugh, turning to switch off the annoying beeping sound. “You need a hand taking them out?”
“Nope,” he grins, holding up his hands with the bright red oven mitts on.
I watch as he opens the oven door and removes the cookie sheet, making sure not to bump it before placing it on the stove and closing the oven door again.
“They look so good, dad!” He beams and something tugs at my heart. This kid. “Can we ice them now?”
"I thought you wanted to go up the mountain with Coop and the others?" Toni says, coming around the island and wrapping his arms around my waist from behind, placing a kiss in the curve of my shoulder.
Dylan groans at the show of affection and rolls his eyes at his other dad. “I do, but Coop’s not awake yet.” His eyes ping pong between the freshly baked pastries and us.
“Alright, you and Sky can frost them and then each of you can have one,” I say, lifting a finger to reiterate the one. “After you offer Lily one.”
“But she can get her own,” he whines.
“Dylan,” Toni says in that father-like voice of his.
“Fine,” he huffs, reaching for the cream cheese frosting. “Sky you wanna help?”
Toni and I watch the boys frost the Cinnamon buns. When they’re done, they both wash their hands before grabbing plates. Dylan places a pastry on a plate while Skylar dishes up some scrambled eggs and bacon and then hands it to his twin who goes to place it in front of where Lily’s sitting at the round kitchen table. Dylan rejoins his twin in the kitchen afterward and they each go about creating their own plates.
“Did they just?” My husband asks.
“They did.”
“Holy shit. They have better game than I did at six.”
I laugh and lean my head back against his chest. “You know that voice you used earlier?”
“Which one?” He cocks his head and looks down at me.
“The bossy, authoritative one.”
“Yeah…” he trails off not getting where I’m going with my line of questioning.
I wiggle against him and feel him growing hard against my ass. “Use it when we’re alone later.”
Toni growls close to my ear sending shivers down my body. “You want to call me Daddy?”
"Ew, they're at it again," Skylar groans covering his eyes.
Toni curses, resting his forehead on my shoulder and shakes his head.
"Finish your breakfast," I tell the kids and pat my husband's arm that's still wrapped around my waist.
Chapter 6
Klara
“Why is there glitter everywhere?” Braxton asks descending the stairs, his hand out in front of him, palm up and he’s scowling at it like it might sprout a mind of its own just like the hand in that one creepy movie.
“Your daughter decided she wanted to wear sparkle everything today for Cooper’s birthday.”
I laugh when he holds his hand up in the space between us and the tiny specks of glitter sparkle in the light of the sun streaming through the window.
“Just call me Edward fucking Cullen,” he grumbles, and I’m not sure whether to be impressed that he’s seen the movie enough to know the reference or scared that he knows the reference.
Braxton moves into the kitchen, turns on the facet and attempts to wash the little specks of glitter off his hand. I’ve abandoned all pretense of packing Nico’s diaper bag at this point and just watch my husband as he curses up a storm when he realizes that trying to wash it off is pointless. But really, what thirty-four-year-old doesn't know that glitter is like herpes. No matter how hard you scrub, it never goes away.
“What the fuck is this shit made of.” His hands are turning red now by the force with which he’s trying to scrub it off. “Why are you laughing? Help me!”
Oh my god, it hurts. I’m practically doubled over. Tears are streaming down my face while I clutch my middle. Before the opportunity is lost, I pull my phone from the back pocket of my jeans and hit record.
“Klara!” Braxton whines. Yes, whines, when the glitter still hasn’t come off. “Fuck me, are you filming this?”
“N-No,” I manage to get out between panted breaths. Oh, I am definitely sending this to the others. I end the video and immediately hit send in our group chat. I tuck the phone back away and decide to give in and help him out before he scrubs the skin off his hands.
"Baby," I say, placing a hand over his to halt his movement and turn off the water before handing him a dishtowel. "It'll eventually come off by itself."
Braxton grunts, taking the towel from me and drying his hands. “How did she get it everywhere in the first place? Did she glue the glitter on the dress?”
I walk over to the stainless-steel fridge and unpin the picture Lily had put there earlier this morning, and hand it to him. As soon as he sees it, his shoulders immediately relax, and a lazy smile curls his lips.
“She wanted to surprise us,” I say, wrapping my arms around his waist from the side and laying my head on his chest.
"She can have all the fucking glitter she wants," he replies, his eyes still fixated on the picture Lily made of her family. We're all in our Christmas best with Lily's outfit, of course, being the one filled in with red glitter. Above Braxton's stick figurehead, she wrote World’s best daddy. "Where is she? She never came to jump on our bed this morning." Braxton re-pins the picture to the fridge and comes back to wrap his arms around me from behind, burying his nose in the crook of my neck.
“She wanted to have breakfast with Dylan and Skylar.”
“Is Kai making cinnamon buns?”
I laugh, “He is.”
“Good,” Braxton says, nipping at my neck before pulling away. “I’m starving.”
“How do you think the guys will do with all the kids today?” Bri asks sitting down across from me. Jessika is on the left between us with Cameron on her lap and Kai on the right. The other guys took the rest of the kids up the slopes today to do some skiing and snowboa
rding. While the rest of us found a little café in town to grab some coffee before doing a little Christmas shopping and pampering.
“Do you remember the fiasco last year when they took the kids to Dagmar Ski Resort?” Jessika asks with a laugh and shake of her head, earning a snort-laugh from Kai.
“Don’t remind me,” I groan while gently trying to remove a chunk of my hair from Nico’s chubby fist before he decides it needs to go in his mouth.
"What happened?" Bri smiles while sipping her vanilla latte.
“Alessandro almost came home with a broken leg.”
“What? What’d he do?” Bri asks while Kai and I try to hold back our laughter.
“Chasing after Cooper and Lily.”
“Actually, technically,” Kai buts in, “Both Alessandro and Cooper were chasing after Lily.”
Jessika nods and I groan. “Lily decided she could go down the hill on her own, but she didn’t want to do the puppy pound anymore which is their green slope, so they took her to the next highest hill, the dog pound. Alessandro says they had turned their back for less than five seconds to put their helmets and goggles on, and when they turned around, she was already going down the hill.”
“Jesus,” Bri mutters under her breath.
"Lily started screaming and crying because she was going too fast and she hadn't learned how to make herself stop yet," I add. "I don't know how, but when Alessandro took off down the hill to chase after her, he didn't see one of the rails and slid right into it, hitting his shin. If it wasn't for all the gear he had on, he would've broken his leg for sure."
Bri winces and we all nod in agreement. “Was Lily okay?”
“Oh, yeah,” I wave it off. “That girl takes after her father. The tears only lasted a few seconds. Cooper managed to catch up with her and helped her down the rest of the hill. Then taught her how to ride the rails and do a couple jumps.”
A Famiglia Christmas Page 3
