Matteo
Three years later…
The sound of something crashing downstairs pulls me out of sleep at six in the morning. I’m out of bed before I’m fully awake, hand reaching for the gun in my nightstand, but then I hear Nico’s laugh followed by Leo’s higher-pitched giggle and I remember that the only threat in this house is my three-year-old twins destroying the kitchen.
Alessia stirs beside me and opens one eye. “Your sons are awake.”
“They’re only my sons when they’re causing chaos.” I pull on sweatpants and a t-shirt. “When they’re being angels, they’re yours.”
“They’re never angels.” She sits up and her hair is a mess from sleep and she’s wearing one of my old shirts and I still can’t believe sometimes that this is my life now. I have a wife, kids, and domesticity I never thought I’d have. “Go stop them before they burn the house down. I’ll be down in five minutes.”
I head downstairs and find both boys in the kitchen with Isabella, who looks like she regrets offering to make them breakfast. Nico has somehow gotten flour all over himself and the counter, and Leo is standing on a chair trying to reach the cabinet where we keep the cereal.
“Uncle Enzo lets us have chocolate cereal.” Nico announces when he sees me.
“Uncle Enzo doesn’t live here and doesn’t make the rules.” I lift Leo off the chair before he falls and breaks his neck. “And you’re covered in flour. What were you trying to make?”
“Pancakes.” Nico grins at me with zero remorse. “Zia Bella said we could help but then I dropped the flour.”
“I can see that.” I look at Isabella who’s trying not to laugh. “Thank you for this.”
“They’re your children.” She’s already wiping down the counter. “You deal with them while I salvage breakfast.”
I get both boys cleaned up and seated at the table just as Alessia comes downstairs looking more awake. She kisses the top of each boy’s head before coming over to kiss me, and I can taste toothpaste on her lips.
“Did they destroy anything important?” She asks quietly.
“Just Isabella’s patience.” I pour her coffee and hand it to her. “And about five pounds of flour.”
Nico is talking at full speed about something that happened at preschool yesterday, and Leo is trying to interrupt with his own story, and the noise level is already higher than I’m equipped to handle before seven AM. But Alessia just sits down and listens to both of them like she can actually follow what they’re saying, and eventually they calm down enough to eat the pancakes Isabella puts in front of them.
“Papà, can we go to the park today?” Nico asks with his mouth full.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Alessia corrects automatically. “And maybe. Your father has work this morning.”
“I can clear the afternoon.” I’m already mentally rearranging meetings because the truth is I’ll cancel anything to spend time with them. Being a father is still strange to me after three years. Still something I’m figuring out. But I know I don’t want to be the kind of father mine was, always working, always busy, always putting business before family. “We’ll go after lunch.”
Both boys cheer loud enough to make me wince, and Alessia is smiling at me over her coffee cup with that look she gets when I do something she approves of. After three years of marriage, I can read every expression on her face, know what she’s thinking before she says it.
My phone buzzes with a text from Enzo asking about a shipment coming in tonight, and I answer it quickly before putting the phone away. Work can wait until after breakfast. Until after I’ve spent time with my family doing normal things that have nothing to do with territory or violence or any of the business that used to consume my entire life.
***
Alessia
I watch Matteo push Nico on the swing and Leo is already running toward the slide for the fifth time, and I can’t stop smiling because this is my life now. This is what I chose when I said yes three years ago when I didn’t even know I was already pregnant.
Some days I still can’t believe it’s real. That I went from four months of hell with Lorenzo to this. To a husband who actually loves me. To two beautiful boys who have Matteo’s eyes and my stubbornness and enough energy to power the entire city.
“Higher, Papà!” Nico shouts and Matteo pushes him higher despite my automatic worry that he’s going to fly off and crack his head open.
But Matteo is careful even when he’s playing rough. Always has been with them since the day they were born two minutes apart and screaming loud enough to be heard down the hospital hallway. I watched him hold them for the first time and saw him realize that these two tiny humans were his responsibility now and he’d kill anyone who tried to hurt them.
Being a mother terrified me at first. But Matteo made sure I had choices about everything. Made sure the whole experience was mine instead of something being done to me.
And then the twins arrived and I fell in love with them so fast it scared me.
“Mamma, watch!” Leo yells from the top of the slide before coming down way too fast.
I watch him and clap when he reaches the bottom, and he runs back around to do it again. They have so much energy and I’m tired just watching them, but it’s a good tired.
I walk over to where Matteo is now crouched in the sandbox helping both boys build what looks like it’s supposed to be a castle but mostly looks like a pile of sand. He glances up when I sit down next to him and reaches over to squeeze my hand briefly.
“Having fun?” I ask.
“More than I thought I would.” He admits quietly while the boys are distracted. “I never saw myself doing this. Having kids or playing in sandboxes. But it’s good.”
“Yeah.” I lean my head on his shoulder. “It is.”
Nico dumps a bucket of sand on Leo’s head and Leo retaliates by throwing sand back and suddenly they’re both yelling and covered in sand. Matteo separates them while I try not to laugh because they’re both filthy and we’re going to have to hose them down before letting them back in the house.
“No throwing sand.” Matteo’s voice carries authority even with two three-year-olds. “You know the rules.”
“But he started it!” Nico protests.
“I don’t care who started it. I’m ending it.” Matteo stands and offers me his hand to pull me up. “Come on. We’re going home before someone loses an eye.”
Both boys complain but they follow us out of the sandbox, and Matteo carries Leo while I hold Nico’s hand because he’s the flight risk who’ll take off running if we’re not paying attention.
The walk home is only ten minutes but it feels longer with two sandy, tired children. By the time we get back to the estate they’re both cranky from hunger and exhaustion.
“Bath time.” I announce and both of them groan like I’ve suggested torture instead of getting the sand out of their hair.
Matteo helps me get them upstairs and into the bath, and we end up with water all over the bathroom floor because of course we do. But eventually they’re clean and dressed and calm enough to eat dinner.
After dinner we put them to bed and I read them the same story I’ve read fifty times while Matteo sits in the chair by the window checking his phone. By the time I finish, both boys are asleep with Nico sprawled across his bed and Leo curled up with his stuffed lion.
“They’re out.” I whisper to Matteo and we slip out of the room quietly.
We end up in our own room and I’m exhausted but happy, and Matteo pulls me against him on the bed. His hand finds mine automatically and our fingers lace together like they always do.
“Thank you.” He says it quietly against my hair.
“For what?”
“For this. For choosing me and staying and building this life.” His arm tightens around me. “I know it’s not always easy being married to me. But you make it work. You make everything work.”
“We make it work.” I correct and turn to look at his face. “Together, that’s how this works.”
He kisses me and it’s gentle and familiar and perfect. After three years I know exactly how he kisses when he’s tired, when he’s stressed, when he’s happy. Right now he’s content and that makes me content too.
“I love you.” We’re here and safe and our boys are asleep down the hall and this is my life now.
“I love you too.” He pulls me closer and I rest my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat steady under my ear.
This is what happiness looks like. It’s not perfect, but it’s ours.
And I wouldn’t change any of it.
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