Page 45 of Temptation

“Breakfast?” Oliver replies, his tone uncertain as he throws a quick glance at Vance.

“We were attempting to make pancakes,” Vance elaborates, his voice tinged with embarrassment. “Well, at least that was the plan.” He holds up a spatula with a thick glob of dough clinging to it, giving me a sheepish grin.

From the dining table, Maddy observes the scene with a bemused expression. “I think they can’t cook,” she comments dryly, shaking her head at the spectacle.

“Hey! We’re trying,” Oliver retorts with a laugh, though his eyes betray his own amusement at the situation.

“Please, don’t try again,” I say, unable to suppress a chuckle at their earnest but misguided efforts.

Oliver’s face morphs into a mock offended expression, and I burst into laughter.

“Well, maybe you can save this… thing?” Vance suggests, gesturing at the bowl of unidentifiable batter in front of him.

“I highly doubt it,” I respond, still laughing. “How about you get rid of… this,” I gesture broadly at the entire kitchen, “and the chaos you caused, and I’ll make something that’s actually edible?”

“Got it,” Oliver agrees with a nod.

The guys start cleaning up the floury mess, scraping dough off the counters, and sweeping up the remnants of their culinary disaster. Meanwhile, I grab a bowl and begin whipping together a proper pancake batter, mixing ingredients with practiced ease.

“You know, you could have just woken me up,” I say over my shoulder as I pour the first dollop of batter onto the griddle.

“We were told not to, and the kids were hungry, so…” Oliver trails off with a shrug, scraping their failed dough into the trash.

A few minutes later, the kitchen is back to its usual state of cleanliness, and the smell of freshly cooked pancakes fills the air. I plate the golden-brown pancakes and set them on the table.

“Breakfast is ready!” I announce, and the kids cheer as they rush to the table, their eyes lighting up at the sight of the fluffy pancakes.

“What are we going to do today?” Flynn’s voice, brimming with enthusiasm the past couple of days, now carries a tone of seriousness that seems too mature for his age.

“I know we’ve been enjoying some vacation days, but I think it’s time to get back to your educational schedule,” I say, trying to sound as enthusiastic as possible.

Maddy, always the eager learner, smiles and nods vigorously, her mouth full of a big bite of pancake.

“School is crap,” Flynn mutters under his breath, his expression mirroring his words.

“Watch your language, young man,” I reprimand him softly, my voice tinged with gentle authority.

“But Daddy says bad words all the time,” Flynn retorts, his eyes challenging mine.

“That might be true, but your dad is an adult,” I explain patiently. “Different rules apply to him than to you.”

“Pff.” Flynn shrugs his small shoulders, his face taking on a look of seriousness so reminiscent of his father’s. “Whatever.” He pushes his plate away and stands up, making his way out of the kitchen with a defiant air.

It takes some coaxing and the promise of ice cream and an afternoon at the beach to get both children to engage in their lessons. Maddy, as expected, dives into her work with enthusiasm, while Flynn participates with noticeable reluctance. Eventually, we manage to get through the day’s lessons, and by the end, we are all in dire need of a break.

Fabrizio’s sudden departure has cast a shadow over the household, and the twins’ once-happy and carefree moods have dimmed.

Maddy’s typically bubbly personality now shines a little less brightly, and Flynn has reverted to the silent and brooding child he was before.

I decide to take the kids outside, hoping that the beach will work its usual magic. Maddy runs ahead, her giggles filling the air as she splashes in the shallow water. Flynn, on the otherhand, sits down, digging his feet deep into the sand and gazing into the distance with a contemplative expression.

How can a five-year-old look so stern? I wonder, my heart aching as I observe the grown-up demeanor that shadows his young face. The resemblance to Fabrizio is striking. I sink onto the warm sand beside him, but he doesn’t acknowledge my presence, his eyes focused on some distant point.

“Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?” I ask softly, trying to break through his serious facade.

Flynn turns to face me, his big blue eyes searching my face with a look of deep sadness. “Is Daddy angry at us?” His voice is so filled with sorrow that it nearly breaks my heart.

“Of course not,” I reassure him. “Why would he be?”

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