(Five years later…)
Augusto barrels past me to where Marcello and Milo are dragging the Christmas tree into the living room.
“Mommeeee, we’re back.”
“I’m coming,” I hear Samantha answer from the direction of the kitchen.
A second later, our two daughters run into the room with chocolate icing all over their mouths.
“Did Mommy let you lick out the bowl?” I ask as they each grab one of my legs and stand on my shoes.
With my daughters giggling, I keep walking toward the foyer.
Samantha appears in the doorway with Augusto in her arms, and frowning at the girls, she says, “Sienna! Bianca! You’re getting icing all over your father’s pants. Come wash your hands.”
Before Samantha can head to the bathroom with our triplets, I wrap my hand around the back of her neck, and plant a kiss on her mouth.
“Let me just change into comfortable clothes, then I’ll take the kids so you can –”
She interrupts me before I can finish my sentence, saying, “We have to decorate the tree.”
I give her a no-nonsense look. “Baby, the tree can wait an hour. You’ve been on your feet all day. Take a nap while we get everything ready.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.” I take Augusto from her arms. “And stop carrying the kids. You shouldn’t be lifting anything heavy.”
Suddenly, a smile spreads over her face. “I love how you always fuss about me.”
“It’s the least I can do.”
I brush my palm over her baby bump and give her another kiss.
When I walk away with Augusto in my arms, he asks, “Daddy, why is my brother taking so long to come?”
“He’s still growing inside Mommy’s tummy,” I answer him as I head up to the third floor.
Walking into the bedroom, I drop my boy on the bed, and he lets out a shriek of laughter.
“Again,” he demands.
“We’ll wrestle as soon as I’ve changed my clothes.”
He stands up on the bed, and making the best angry face he can, he pretends to be the Hulk. “I’m going to win.”
I always let him win.
I quickly strip out of the suit while Augusto sounds like a puppy that’s learning to growl.
Opening the vault, I place my gun inside before ensuring the door is secure. When I have my sweatpants and a T-shirt on, I dart back into the room and tackle Augusto off his feet.
Before I can tickle him, Samantha comes into the room with Sienna and Bianca. They climb onto the bed and begin to climb all over me.
“Wait. Everyone off the bed so Mommy can sleep,” I order.
They quickly scramble off, and in a chorus, they say, “Sweet dreams, Mommy.”
“Thank you, my little angels.”
“I’m the Hulk,” Augusto says, trying to make his voice deeper. “Hulk smash.”
“Hulk can go smash downstairs,” I chuckle as I herd the kids out of the bedroom.
As I turn to shut the door, Samantha’s face is filled with love. “God, I’m glad I married you. Love you.”
“Love you too, baby.”
I head downstairs with my trio of tornadoes, and walking into the living room, I say, “We have to wrap Mommy’s presents before she wakes up.”
“Yay!!” They sing with excitement.
“I’ll bring everything,” Marcello mutters before heading to the guesthouse where I’ve been hiding the gifts so Samantha doesn’t accidentally find them.
I pull the box we keep all the wrapping paper and tape in closer and ask, “Which wrapping paper do you want to use?”
“The one with Santa on,” Sienna orders, and her brother and sister don’t argue.
She has a take-charge attitude that reminds me a lot of her mother.
When Marcello returns with the gifts, I let the kids pick which ones they want to wrap.
Marcello sits down beside Augusto while Milo and Via join the girls.
Sitting on the floor with everyone, I grab a Dior candle and find a gift bag with snowflakes on it.
The kids murmur here and there as they wrap the presents. Some look worse for wear, but I know Samantha will love the effort they put in.
Augusto gives up after wrapping three gifts and crawling onto the couch, he’s out cold within seconds.
Bianca yawns, and abandoning the gift Via is helping her with, she crawls onto my lap and snuggles her head against my chest.
Leaning back against the couch, I glance at Via and say, “Switch on the TV so we can watch a Christmas show.”
Sienna makes herself comfortable on Milo’s lap while Marcello keeps wrapping gifts.
Via scrolls through the movies, then chooses one about Santa Claus.
Fifteen minutes into the movie, the kids are fast asleep, and Marcello places all the presents on the coffee table.
“I’m going to check on Samantha,” Via murmurs before leaving the room.
I glance at Milo and grin when I see he’s busy drifting off as well.
“Do you want something to drink?” Marcello asks me.
“No, thanks. I’m good.”
Not long after Samantha walks into the living room, and I give her a dark frown.
“Oh, hush,” she mutters. “I can’t sleep.”
I get up and carefully pass Bianca to Via so I can join Samantha on one of the couches. Taking a seat by her feet, I lift them onto my lap and gently massage her ankles and calves while we continue to watch the movie.
“You know what’s unfair,” Samantha grumbles.
“What, baby?”
“Around me, the kids have endless energy, but as soon as they’re with you, they’re calm.”
I grin at her as I say, “It’s because you let them get away with murder.”
“Hmm…”
I keep massaging her legs, my eyes drifting over her beautiful face.
“What do you want for Christmas?” she asks me for the hundredth time.
“I have everything I want.”
“You have to give me a couple of ideas,” she complains. “You’re impossible to buy for.”
“Baby, you’ve already given me the world. There’s nothing else I want.”
