“No, baby. This is for my eyes only. I know one day you’ll wear my ring, and everyone will know you’re spoken for,” I answer confidently.
I collapse beside her, noting her amused expression. “Leo, I’m pretty sure the whole town knows I’m spoken for, with or without jewelry.”
I pretend to ponder her statement. “How about a forehead tattoo? That will tell everyone in neighboring towns that you’re off the market as well.”
“I didn’t date anyone when we weren’t together,” she points out, raising her head to rest against her bent arm. “What makes you think I’ll suddenly go after someone else now?”
“The tattoo won’t be for your benefit. It’ll be for everyone else.”
“How so?”
I lean forward and kiss her softly. “So I don’t have to kill anyone who talks to you. I know how to avoid jail, Ladybug. But my brothers will try to help, and at least one of them will break under the pressure. Luca doesn’t look good in orange.”
Ella lets out a loud cackle. “Why not Alex or Dom?”
“I highly doubt that Alex breaks. And if Dom did end up in prison, he’d make someone his bitch immediately.”
The following morning, under the guise of having breakfast with the kids, I drive all of us to my parent’s house.
“Leo, what are you doing?” Ella asks, panic evident in her tone. “No! I’m not ready. I need to put on better clothes, and bring your mom flowers, and get the kids cleaned up. This can’t happen right now!”
I look over at her outfit. She’s wearing shorts, flip flops, and another one of my old tee shirts. Not a lick of makeup on her face, but she’s glowing. She looks stunning, happy, and maybe a little bit deliciously fucked. Whitley kept the kids all night, and I kept their aunt up all night. I’m proud to say I’ve graduated well past the two-minute-man mark of the past.
“I think you look gorgeous.” Grabbing her hand, I bring it to my mouth, kissing it. “Besides, they want to know the real you. Not some perfect version of you. They’re going to accept Oliver and Violet as their own, and they won’t care what they’re wearing either.”
“Is it just them? Or your grandmother too?” she asks worriedly.
“Oh. Uh, pretty sure everyone will be there, actually,” I say nonchalantly.
“What?!?” she shouts, making Violet cry. Ella immediately unhooks her seatbelt to kneel on the seat and see into Violet’s rear-facing car seat. “I’m sorry, baby girl. It’s okay. Auntie Ella was being silly.”
“Mmm-mmm,” Violet says, and I watch in the rearview mirror as she reaches up to touch Ella’s face. “Mama. Mama.”
Ella gasps, then begins to cry as Oliver chimes in. “Can I call you Mama too?”
“You can if you want, buddy,” I answer, reaching to rub Ella’s neck as I pull into my parent’s driveway. Seeing the number of cars on the street tells me everyone is already here, and I assume wewere given an arrival time later than everyone else. Can’t have the threshold performance if someone isn’t in attendance, I guess.
As I throw the car into park, I pull Ella into my arms. She blubbers into my shoulder about not replacing her sister, and how are we to explain the dynamic in our household once the new baby arrives. “If they want to call you Mama, let them. You are the mother figure in their lives, baby.”
“It feels like I’m somehow stealing her thunder,” she murmurs, raising her head to meet my gaze. “Like I’m taking over when she did all of the hard work.”
“I’m sure my parents will tell you that every stage of childhood involves hard work. Ember handled the first few years, and now we’ve got the rest. It doesn’t make you any less of a mother simply because you didn’t give birth to them.”
Her face screws up as she starts to cry earnestly. “That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me. Thank you.”
“I want to call you Mama, Auntie Ella,” Oliver announces. “I miss my Mommy, but she gave me to you, and so I want to call you Mama. She’s my Mommy, and you’re my Mama.”
Craning my head around to smile at my favorite four-year-old, I chuckle when he gives me a huge grin. “You’re pretty smart, kiddo.”
“It’s cuz I drinks all my milk,” he replies confidently.
“Must be. Ladybug, do you remember the deal with my parent’s front door?” I ask cautiously. Her eyes widen.
“I completely forgot about that! Do I have to carry you? I remember hearing about Gianna doing that with Travis.” Ella swipes hastily at her face to scrub away the tears, then takes a cleansing breath.
“No, it’s just the Santo kid that does the carrying. So you’re safe.”
She looks confused. “What is the problem with that? Surely all the guys managed it.”
