Page 60 of The Bonus

“Of course he is. Thank you.” My eyes flick to Alessio, and he winces. “The final nail in his coffin.”

“Can I take your order?” the waitress asks.

I glance over to Serafina, my date. “Cosa mangi?” (“What are you having?”)

“I’ll have what you’re having.” She smiles over at me.

I stare over the table at her. Grow a backbone, for fuck’s sake.

Ugh…

“A green salad and the lobster times two, please.” I close the menu and hand it over to the waitress.

Serafina is as beautiful as they come, tall, dark and with a body to die for, Italian to the bone, and nothing about her interests me in the slightest.

I think I’m broken.

I subtly glance at my watch, two hours until I can get the hell out of here.

Grace

Laughter and screams sound through my house as I chase two naked toddlers around with nappies. To them, getting out of the bath and having me chase them around with clothes is the funniest thing ever, and I have to admit, even I love it.

My babies are eighteen months old, the biggest blessing and the absolute loves of my life. Our home is filled with laughter and chaos but above all…so much love.

Dominic is the oldest, he has dark wavy hair and olive skin with big brown eyes, he’s a mini version of his father. Personality and all, he’s feisty and short-tempered, dominant and intelligent and the biggest mommy’s boy of all time. And then there’s Lucia, we call her Lucy for short. Although she looks like her father, with her dark hair and big brown eyes, she couldn’t be more different. Tiny compared to Dominic, she’s calm and placid with the sweetest little nature. She idolizes her brother and has a quiet confidence about her. While Dominic wants to sit curled up on my lap, Lucy prefers to sit with Buddy on the couch, she doesn’t want to sit on my lap, she’s so independent.

“Come on, guys, we need to be on time today,” I plead.

Dominic squeals with laughter and runs into my bedroom and dives onto the bed as I chase him. “You’re a little nudist, Dom.” I tackle him and roll him over to hold him down. “Stop squirming.” I put his nappy on as he laughs and tries to escape me. “Come on.” I try to act stern as I struggle to fight him. “We don’t have time for this today.”

I’m not lying, we really don’t. I go back to work next month, and today our new nanny arrives. I’ve concocted up a plan and in my head it makes perfect sense, but in reality, I have no idea how it’s actually going to turn out.

Deb and I have spent hours and hours discussing how the future is going to go down and one thing is strikingly clear: I need to prepare for the day they ask who their father is. I can lie to the world about artificial insemination, but I will never lie to them.

When they ask…and they will, I’ll tell them the truth.

I need to prepare them the best of my ability, I need them to learn about Italian culture, speak the language and appreciate the difference between our heritages.

I’ve hired a young Italian nanny, she arrives today.

She’s going to study teaching part-time at the college and live here rent free with pay, in exchange for minding the kids while I work three days a week and teaching them how to speak Italian.

They need to learn it along with English, now, in their formative years. And besides, it will kill two birds with one stone: I can go back to work and get a new roommate, the kids will benefit and she gets to live in America for a few years. It’s a win-win situation…I hope.

We stand at the arrival terminal; the children are sitting in their double stroller and are completely preoccupied with their muesli bars, their latest obsession, and I’m about to go into cardiac arrest.

This is a terrible idea, what the hell was I thinking?

A stranger living in my house…she could be a serial killer or anything. Those references could be completely doctored.

I get a vision of how feral the twins can be and my temperature rises. What if she’s a princess, I can’t deal with perfect princesses.

Our life is chaotic, and Buddy our dog sleeps on the couch when he isn’t supposed to and our house isn’t always tidy and…I begin to feel sick to my stomach.

What have I done?

My phone beeps a text.

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