“Presents!” Marciano was almost breathless, pulling me along as though I were a feather dragging behind him. “Thebigman did notomettere!”
I smiled—thebigman, Santa Claus, didn’t forget about him. They must have visited the tree before coming into our room. The dogs danced around us, feeding off the energy.
“Lucky!” Mariano said, swiping at his hair. “You tried to hit him, and he does not forget!”
“Look—!” Marciano gasped, his eyes going round. “Eeeeeee!”
“May we?” Mia asked.
“Of course!” I said, a warm sensation flooding my heart. All of their eyes were wide, reflecting the twinkling lights of the tree, and all of the gifts underneath it. “Wait! I need my camera!”
Running back to the room, I wished a hurriedBuon Natale!to Silvio, who had taken the nightshift and was just entering his room. By the time I made it back, my camera ready, Mia hopped from foot to foot, a ballerina jewelry box in her arms, the boys already checking out their new bikes.
“Dis one forme, Mamma!” Marciano pointed at his puffed-out chest.
I laughed, nodding. “I see that!”
Brando sat on the sofa, watching with a grin on his face. After a moment or two, he motioned me over, pulling me in close, so we could watch together. His eyes stayed glued to the action around the tree, but his lips kept coming in to kiss either my cheek or my hand, as though his heart couldn’t take the sight of his children enjoying the morning and he had to put his emotions somewhere.
After the children were done, they handed us our gifts.
“You didn’t!” I said, not sure if I should be amused or offended.
“Damn right I did,” he said, taking the earrings out of the box and putting them in my ears. Earrings I would’ve never worn before because of the size of my ears. They were gorgeous, made of rubies and diamonds.
“Mamma! They look beautiful!” Mia smiled at me. “Can I borrow them?”
“When you’re older,” I said, blowing her a kiss.
“All right,” Brando sighed after opening his gifts—accessories for his boat. “We should start breakfast. We’ll tag team it this morning.” He looked at the boys.
“Hold on,” I said, standing. “What’s that?” I pointed to a wrapped gift box on the mantle with four holiday bags sitting on top.
All the children charged, even Matteo, and retrieved the gifts. Brando gave me a sideways glance, and I shrugged.
“Papà!” Mariano said, shoving a gift bag at Brando. “This one is foryou! It is just like ours. See?”
The boys all had identical gifts, same size and shape. Mia had a different wrap, a box underneath.
“Go ahead,” I said, urging them all to start. “Open them!”
Brando refused at first.
“If I’m wearing these earrings,” I whispered in his ear. “You have to open yours.”
“You’ve already—”
“I know,” I said, my voice firm. “Please.”
He made it right in time to open his at the same time his sons were finished, and Mia exclaimed, “OhDio!” Ballet slippers. Hers were the exact replica of mine—from when I had performed in “The Nutcracker.” Maja had given me a pair, and Mia had wanted them ever since she saw them.
Brando cleared his throat. “Scarlett.”
“What do you think?” I whispered, taking in the excited voices of the boys, all wanting to play.
He cleared his throat again, once, twice. “I think—why?”
I nodded to his sons. “It’ll be fun.”
