Alfonso chuckles behind a two-week-old newspaper he managed to dig up somewhere.
“We also had a grand old time talking about pine trees today.” Lux grins, spinning around to wink at us. My face flushes with horror again, but I force myself to move on and pour a cup of coffee. “And Matilda’s birthday!”
I groan internally. With all the shit The8 has been throwing at us, I completely gave up on planning Matilda’s birthday.
Thankfully, my parents managed to throw her an early West Coast birthday party while she was visiting. I was hoping that might be enough to tide her over, but seeing her happy little face now, I quickly realize I failed at mom duty.
“I’m gonna be six,” she proudly announces. “And Mama said we can ride a pony, watch princess movies, and eat a pink cake for my birthday.”
“Oh, honeybee,” I start, walking over to the table.I’m about to give you the saddest news ever.Lux catches my eye and nods gently to the living room.
“Bestie?” she calls, whirling around to search for Enzo. He looks up from a giant stack of pancakes he’s been quietly eating at the kitchen counter. “Feed Rosie, will you?”
She shoves the fork at him, gives her baby girl a kiss on the cheek, and drags me out of the kitchen. I feel like I’m about to get “Lux’ed,” as Enzo lovingly calls it.
“Listen, I know you’ve had a lot going on, so a birthday party is probably the last thing on your mind, right?”
I sink into the overstuffed sofa and let out a deep breath.I’m such a bad mother.
“I mean, I started planning it,” I say quietly, waving my hands around helplessly. “Before all this shit happened.”
“I know.” She plops down beside me, grabbing my hand and giving it a squeeze. “And you’re probably thinking you’re a bad mother, and if that’s the case, stop it right now or I’m withholding wine and swirly straws for the foreseeable future.”
“Thanks.” I laugh, shaking the gloomy thoughts away. “Maybe we can do something small for her here?”
“Small?” Lux asks, her voice dripping with shock. The gleeful twinkle in her eyes scares me for a second. “We don’t do things small in the Romano household. Listen, we’ve got three horses, a projector, and I’m a Michelin-star baker. We can do this.”
“Are you really?”
“No, but I once dreamed I was.” She laughs. “So, if I can just channel that energy…”
Enzo busts into the room at that moment, interrupting us. Rosie waddles behind him, laughing and clapping her hands.
“She got me in the eye!” he screeches in fake horror. “Watch out, we have a sniper-in-training on our hands!”
Matilda skips in after them, giggling maniacally, holding a spoon full of strawberry jam. She cocks the spoon back like a catapult and Enzo drops to the floor.
“Duck! Everyone duck!” he yells, making her laugh so hard she drops the spoon on the floor. As much as I’m enjoying the cute little father-daughter scene, I’m also acutely aware just how much jam is ending up on Lux’s polished hardwood floors.
I lean in to apologize, but to my surprise, Lux springs up and bolts across the room. Her golden hair trails behind her, making her look like a Disney princess.
“I’ve got her!” she cries, fake-tackling Matilda to the floor. They roll around giggling, getting jam all over their clothes and in their hair. “The suspect has been apprehended!”
Rafael wanders in to see what all the fuss is about and simply shakes his head. He picks his way across the living room, stepping over bodies and avoiding jam puddles.
“It’s hard being the serious one sometimes,” he says with a long-suffering sigh, nodding at the scene. “Especially when the two golden retrievers get together.”
I can’t help but laugh, partly because Enzo and Lux do have golden-retriever-like tendencies, but mostly because I haven’t felt this happy and carefree in ages.
This is it. This is the life I want for my daughter. Peace, laughter, magic—I may not have half the whimsy of Lux or the childlike wonder of Enzo, but I can make that happen for her.
“Hey,” Rafael clears his throat, shifting into business mode. “Valentina, Enzo, can I speak to you in my office?”
Lux immediately understands and rounds up the kids, herding them upstairs with promises of magical bubble baths.
The three of us head to Rafael’s office, a perfect antithesis to the rest of the house. While the main living spaces are soft,pastel, and full of oversized furniture and plants, the office is dark, moody, and manly.
“I just got some news,” he declares, ushering us inside and shutting the door. Alfonso is already inside, his fingers steepled, a thoughtful look on his face.