I hand Nicolo's carrier to Olivia and catch Rocco mid-leap. "Hey, buddy. What's the game today?"
"We're Santa's special agents! Angelica says we have to find all the hidden presents!"
I glance around the Calabresi mansion, marveling at the transformation.
There was a time when Christmas at Marco's was like a funeral with better food. Formal, quiet, everyone counting the minutes until they could leave.
Marco had never liked the holiday, approaching it with the same grim determination he brought to business meetings.
Now, the place is bursting with color.
A massive tree towers in the corner, dripping with ornaments. Garlands wrap every available surface.
Little Leo, barely three, toddles past with Gianna and Sabina in tow, all three clutching candy canes that have left sticky trails down their holiday outfits.
The change is all Gabriella. She brought life back to Marco in ways none of us could have believed possible.
“It still amazes me,” I quip as I take it all in. "Marco spent decades avoiding Christmas. Now he's got three stockings hanging on his fireplace."
"Amazing what love does," Olivia says, leaning against my shoulder.
I kiss the top of her head. "Don't I know it."
I follow Olivia into the living room where our La Corona family has gathered. Roman stands by the fireplace, cradling his newest addition, a tiny baby boy wrapped in a soft white blanket.
Isabella hovers beside him, fussing with his tie, a garish creation of red and green fabric with what looks like hand-painted reindeer.
Another masterpiece from her and Angelica's crafting sessions.
"That tie is something else," I say, approaching them.
Roman grins, not taking his eyes off the baby. "Try saying no to Angelica when she presents you with Christmas neckwear. I dare you."
"It's perfect," Isabella insists, giving the tie one final adjustment. "Our little artist is getting better every year."
Across the room, Marco stands with Gabriella, his hand resting protectively on her rounded belly.
The fearsome Don Calabresi, once known for his icy demeanor, now watches his pregnant wife with undisguised tenderness.
Gabriella's due in February, and Marco, just like the last time she was pregnant with Sabina, has been transformed, micromanaging her diet, insisting on weekly doctor visits, driving everyone crazy with his protective instincts.
“How are you?" I ask, approaching them.
"He's banned coffee in our house," Gabriella rolls her eyes. "Even for himself, in solidarity."
Marco doesn't even look embarrassed. "The doctor said caffeine isn't good for the baby."
Don Ferraza joins us, clapping me on the shoulder. He looks older this year, the loss of Antonio Monti this summer weighing heavily on all of us. The empty space where the Monti patriarch should be feels especially pronounced today.
"Your boys are getting big, Dominic," he says, peering into the carriers.
I nod, feeling a familiar pang of grief. Antonio should be here to see this. To see all of us together, our families growing.
His absence reminds me how precious these moments are, how quickly everything can change.
“They are. I don’t have to lift weights anymore. I just lug these two around.”
I watch as Olivia moves through the room, completely at ease.
