“Seán?” my mom calls, sweetly. “You boys awake?”
My cheeks go hot instantly, and Emiliano’s mouth twitches. “Boys.”
“Shut up,” I hiss.
He grins and slides out of bed like he’s done this a thousand times, grabbing a clean shirt from his bag and pulling it on like a normal person who is not about to go to Easter Mass with my family after sleeping under my parents’ roof.
I open the door, and my mom stands there with a soft smile and tired eyes, hair pinned back like she’s been doing this all morning.
“Good morning,” she says, then her gaze flicks past me to Emiliano. She pauses.
Then she smiles wider.
“Emiliano,” she says warmly. “Good morning, dear.”
Dear.
That one word hits me in the ribs.
“Good morning, ma’am,” Emiliano replies, polite and calm.
My mom nods once like she approves of his tone, then she looks back at me.
“You hungry?” she asks.
I stare at her and smile because this is my mom’s love language too. Just like Emiliano’s mother.
Feed, fix, and nurture.
“Yeah,” I manage.
She pats my cheek quickly. “Good. Come down when you’re ready. Your father’s already dressed.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
She steps away, leaving the hallway quiet again.
I close the door and lean back against it for a second like I need the wood to hold me up. Emiliano steps close, hands sliding to my waist and tugging me toward him.
“Breathe, Cobre,” he murmurs.
I glare. “Don’t call me that here.”
He smirks. “Why? Afraid your mom’s gonna adopt me?”
“She already did,” I mutter.
Emiliano’s smile softens. “Get used to it, baby. Your family loves me.”
Downstairs, the kitchen smells like coffee and cinnamon and something baked. There’s a basket of hot cross buns on the table, and my sisters are already dressed, hair curled and makeup done like they’re going to a wedding. Leeann looks up when I walk in and immediately narrows her eyes at me.
“Well,” she says. “Look who survived the night.”
“Leeann,” I warn.
She grins. “What? I’m proud of you.”
Mary steps forward and hugs me tight, her embrace warm and exactly what I need.