Page 27 of Raphael
He laughs, caught. "It was just a tiny piece. For quality control."
The sound of car doors shutting outside reminds us both that we have guests arriving. With a final kiss, we separate, moving into the familiar choreography of hosting that we've perfected over years of Sunday dinners and holiday gatherings.
Our backyard has been transformed for Sophia's birthday. Pink and gold decorations hang from the large oak trees, tables are arranged in a semicircle around a small dance floor, and a professional cake (alongside my homemade one) stands ready on the dessert table. It's extravagant for a one-year-old, but in the Veneziano family circle, no celebration is ever small.
The first guests to enter the backyard are Dante and Elena, their six-month-old daughter Aria carried by her mother. Behind them comes Franco and Sarah with Tommy, now eight like Marco.
"Annie!" Elena embraces me warmly, somehow managing it with a baby in her arms. "Everything looks beautiful."
"Thank you for hosting," Sarah adds, glancing around appreciatively at the decorations. "After the disaster that was Marco’s birthday at our place, I'm still traumatized by party planning."
I laugh, remembering the sprinkler system that mysteriously activated mid-party, soaking all the guests. Franco had later admitted it was a security measure that triggered accidentally—one of the many "normal but not normal" aspects of our shared lives.
"Dante's already talking about security details for Leo's future girlfriends." Elena says with mock horror.
"Completely reasonable," Dante responds as he joins our circle, drink in hand. Though his presence still commands authority, months of fatherhood have softened him in subtle ways. "I'm simply being practical."
Franco, appearing with Raphael, nods in solemn agreement, though I catch the amused look the men exchange. These dangerous, powerful men turned into protective fathers. It would be comical if it weren't so endearing.
More guests arrive. Marco's uncle Tommy and his wife, who flew in from Italy; a few of the more trusted members of Dante's organization and their families; my mother, now happily settled in a condo nearby that Raphael insisted on buying for her; and some friends I've made at the university where I now work part-time in the history department, having completed my degree two years ago.
Our worlds have merged in ways I never could have imagined that first day I walked into Raphael's house as a nanny. The boundaries between family, business, and friendship have blurred into something unique and precious.
Sophia makes her grand entrance in Marco's arms, now cleaned up and dressed in the frilly pink dress her "Auntie Elena" bought her. The party shifts into full swing. Food is served, champagne flows for the adults, and the children run wild in the spacious yard under the watchful eyes of security personnel disguised as party staff.
As I watch my daughter being passed from loving arms to loving arms, I'm struck by how different her life is from my own childhood. Where I had only my parents, a devoted father often absent on dangerous assignments and a mother struggling with her own demons, Sophia has this expansive, unconventional family surrounding her with love and protection.
"Penny for your thoughts," Raphael says, appearing at my side with a glass of champagne.
I accept it gratefully. "Just thinking about family," I admit. "About how much has changed in three years."
He follows my gaze to where Dante is surprisingly gently bouncing Sophia on his knee. "Good changes?"
"The best," I assure him, leaning into his side. "Though I still can't believe I went from being a college student slash nanny to being married to you with a baby in three years. It's like a whirlwind."
"Any regrets?" he asks, and though his tone is light, I know the question matters to him. Even now, after all we've built together, he sometimes worries that I gave up too much to join his world.
"Not a single one," I say firmly, meeting his eyes. "Except maybe letting you name our dog 'Teeth.' Still not over that one."
He laughs, the sound rich and warm. "It's a great name for a guard dog."
"It's a terrible name for any dog, and you know it."
Our playful argument is interrupted by Marco calling for attention. He stands beside the cake table, Sophia now perched on his hip.
"Can I have everyone's attention please?" he says, his voice cracking slightly as it has started doing recently. "We need to sing happy birthday to my baby sister!"
The gathering crowds around as I light the single candle on Sophia's homemade cake, the one she'll be allowed to demolish for photos. As we begin to sing, I feel Raphael's arm tighten around my waist, his voice joining the chorus near my ear.
Sophia's eyes widen with delight at being the center of attention, her tiny hands clapping along with the song. When we finish, Marco leans down so she can "blow out" the candle (with his considerable help).
Cheers erupt, and in the happy chaos that follows, I find myself stepping back slightly, taking in the whole scene. Marco helpingSophia with her cake, my mother chatting animatedly with Elena and Sarah, Dante and Franco keeping a watchful eye on the perimeter while pretending not to.
This is my family now. Complicated, dangerous at times, unconventional in every way, but fiercely loving and protective.
Raphael finds me again, slipping his arms around me from behind. "Happy?" he asks simply.
"Incredibly," I reply, leaning back against him. "You know, when I took that nanny job, I was just trying to pay my bills and take care of my mom. I never expected..." I gesture at the gathering before us.
