Page 93 of Damiano De Luca (The Five Syndicates)
The baby.
Our baby.
It strikes me that I have everything I want in this library. Damian. Our baby girl. Rings on our fingers. I used to think Damian was a twisted prince who couldn’t love. I used to think he’d become the king and destroy me.
But our demons have been put to rest. Our past no longer plagues us. And Damian may not be the Damsel anymore, but I feel like a fucking princess.
Six Years Later
“So, let me get this straight. She didn’t insist on a giant diamond ring?” Niccolaio eyes the tattoo on my finger like it’s a Rubix cube he can’t crack.
“No.” I arch a brow. “Did Minka?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
Ranie shakes his head, his eyes glued on his wife, who stands at the edge of the lake in a candy red bikini half the size of her baby bump. “You guys are stupid.”
Bastian tosses the last of his cheeseburger to my dog and ignores the glare I cast his way. “At least their wives have something on their fingers.”
I pat Pages, my tiny Shih Tzu—a living, panting blow to my masculinity, but my wife wanted him, and I wanted her happy. “If that gives Pages the shits, you’re cleaning it, Romano.”
“You’re a six-two guy with a five-pound Shih Tzu named Pages. If you think I’m cleaning your dog’s shit, I can schedule a CT scan for your damaged brain. I’m sure Liv would do it.”
Marco shakes his head. “My girl’s not touching any of you assholes.”
Ranie twists the platinum band on his finger. “Gallo’s eight months pregnant. If my wife’s wedding ring still fits on her finger after eight months with a bun in her oven, my sperm’s not as super as I thought. And I can assure you that’s not the case. My son’s gonna be huge. You should have seen the size of his package on the ultrasound.”
We all had, in our group chat from hell.
Didn’t miss the second or third pictures he sent either.
Asher’s eyes remain closed, like he can’t believe he’s spending a Saturday with us, but he can suck it up because my girl wanted everyone here, so everyone had better damn well be here. “I’d be more concerned with your son, who’s pissing into the fire pit.”
None of us ask how Asher saw that with his eyes closed. We all look to the side, and sure enough, Luke is swinging his package around like it’s a lightsaber, splashing piss all over my custom-built fire pit.
&
nbsp; Marco laughs and downs his spiked Arnold Palmer. “Father of the year, Ranie.”
His daughter runs up to us, her Converse soaking wet from running at the edge of the lake. “Why does Luke’s bagina look different from mine? He says it’s ‘cause he’s cooler than me.”
Marco covers Charlotte’s ears and yells out, “I’m gonna fucking kill you, Ranie!”
Ranie flips Marco the bird as he walks over to Luke, makes his son zip himself back up, and tells him not to get caught next time. Andrettis don’t get caught, Luke. Gallo waddles over to them and overrules Ranie, saying there will not, under any circumstances, be a next time.
Marco uncovers Charlotte’s ears and kneels, so they’re closer to eye level. “Remember what I told you about Brett Keith?”
“The guy who mom used to like?”
He narrows his eyes. “Mom never liked him. But yes. Him.”
“You said, ‘Never trust anyone with two first names.’”
Bastian snorts and pats Charlotte’s head. “Your dad’s really mature, Charlie Girl.”
