Page 150 of His Tesoro

I shook my head. “Of course not, wife.”

She pulled me down for a kiss and nipped my lower lip. “Now that you’re here, want to pull these out of the oven for me?”

She took Noodle’s sweater out of my hands and moved out of the way. I pulled the cinnamon rolls out of the oven and then turned around to see Romeo, Angelo, and Noodle all standing in a row, wearing their Christmas sweaters. Sienna was off to the side, covering her mouth and looking suspiciously like she was holding in laughter.

Sofiya clapped. “I need a picture of all my boys together.”

“They’re not all your boys,” I growled.

“We’re men, not boys,” Romeo added. He crossed his arms, which only highlighted the mess of green tinsel on his sweater.

“Well, whoever you are, stand by the tree so I can take a picture,” she demanded before starting towards the living room with her rollator. I let out a frustrated sound and grabbed her wheelchair.

“You’re only supposed to use the rollator when you’re baking.”

I had plans to renovate the entire kitchen so it was wheelchair-friendly, but Sofiya had said we were not doing construction while she was in “nesting mode,” whatever that meant. I thought it was absolutely absurd. Sienna had already chosen the contractor and designed the renovation, so we were all set once Sofiya gave us the green light. She was in too much pain these days to use her rollator for more than brief periods, and she’d been getting dizzy more frequently.

Once she was in her wheelchair, I gripped her chin and mouthed “naughty girl.” Her cheeks flushed beautifully.

We all moved in front of the Christmas tree and Sofiya took photos of “her boys.” Then she and Sienna instructed us into all sorts of formations and combinations. I didn’t mind, as long as I got to be next to my wife.

I found I minded nothing as long as she was by my side.

EPILOGUE

SOFIYA

“I’m not sure poker is a very traditional Christmas activity,” I said, chewing my lip.

We’d finished our Christmas dinner and were all too full to immediately eat dessert. Matteo had grumbled when he found out I had made everyone’s favorites—tiramisu for Angelo, cannolis for Romeo, funfetti cake for Sienna, and chocolate chip cookies for my husband. He wanted me to stay reclined in bed with people waiting on me hand and foot for the last weeks of my pregnancy, but I was feeling good. The exhaustion I’d felt in my first and second trimesters had finally dissipated, and I was filled with the urge to take care of everyone and nest.

“It’s not,” Sienna said. “But I’ve heard all about your skills and need to see it for myself.”

“It’s festive if we drink mulled wine while we play,” Romeo said.

“Or hot chocolate,” Angelo added, raising his eyebrows at me.

I grinned. “If you all are so desperate to lose, I guess I can’t refuse.” I squeezed Matteo’s hand. “Are you going to play, husband? Please?”

“If it will force you to stay fucking seated, fine.”

I grinned, leaning over to give him a kiss on his cheek. It was prickly with stubble. “So cranky.”

“Yeah, Matteo, stop being so cranky,” Romeo said.

Matteo rolled his eyes. “Let’s do this.”

“How are you doing this?” Matteo looked at me across the table, absolutely bewildered.

I bit my lip to hide my smile. “I’m rather good, aren’t I?”

“Have you been winning games all this time? I thought you didn’t know they were playing with actual money. I was getting ready to pay off your debts before the poker club came after you.”

I snorted a laugh. “Your lack of faith in me is astounding. How much have I won now, Angelo? I think it’s around thirty thousand.”

“Sounds about right, bella.”

Matteo ran his hand down his face. “Well, shit.”

---