16. Chapter Sixteen Adriana
Chapter Sixteen: Adriana
T he key turned in the lock with a satisfying click. We stepped over the threshold, and I drew in a breath of home—a mix of lemon polish and the faintest hint of jasmine from last night's cleaning spree. The Delaware house was quiet, its stillness a balm after the cacophony of the city we'd left behind.
"Feels good to be back," Tristan said, his voice echoing slightly in the spacious foyer.
I nodded, slipping off my coat and hanging it with precision on the rack. The journey had been long, but weariness was a luxury I couldn't afford—not when there was so much to be done, so many loose ends that needed tying up. My body protested with stiffness as I moved, but determination was a familiar friend, urging me past the fatigue.
But there was too much to do.
I put things away, returned toiletries to their rightful place.
The late afternoon sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a soft glow over the nursery. I stood in the doorway, my heart swelling as I watched Tristan, with deft hands and infinite patience, cradling Catherine Jean against his chest.
"Shh, Cat, daddy's here," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm.
She cooed in response, her tiny fingers curling around one of his. She was the spitting image of Tristan with those striking blue eyes that seemed to hold galaxies within them. Her dark tufts of hair begged for affectionate strokes, and even at this tender age, she had a quiet strength about her.
"Matteo, my boy, don't think I've forgotten you," Tristan chuckled, carefully shifting to accommodate our son in his other arm. Matteo Cian, with his mother's gaze and his father's mischief, gurgled with delight as he was hoisted up alongside his sister. He kicked his little legs, wrapped in a powder blue blanket that made his eyes stand out all the more.
"Look at you two," I said, stepping closer to plant a kiss on each of their foreheads. "Already taking after your father."
Tristan shot me a playful glance, his blue eyes brightening with love and pride. "They're going to be troublemakers, just like their mom," he countered, and we both laughed, the sound echoing warmly against the nursery walls.
“Excuse me? They’re exactly like you.”
“Ah, so definitely trouble.”
"Only the best kind of trouble," I teased back, watching as they settled into a peaceful slumber in his arms, our babies, our world, held safely in the circle of Tristan's unwavering love.
Slowly, carefully, Tristan and I moved the twins into their respective cribs. It took several tries—they were easy to wake, and needed their sleep. Finally…finally, they stayed asleep.
We went to our room. I watched Tristan navigate his wheelchair, a dance of precision and patience, as he reached for the stack of freshly laundered onesies on the dresser.
"Need a hand?" I offered, lingering at the doorway.
He flashed me that signature grin, the one that said he appreciated the offer but was determined to manage on his own. "I've got this," he replied, his fingers grazing the fabric. It took a few attempts, but he snagged the top onesie with a triumphant look.
"See?"
"Never doubted you," I said, leaning against the frame, my arms crossed in mock skepticism.
"Though, I must admit," he confessed with a wry twist of his lips, "the logistics of baby wrangling from a seated position present an interesting challenge."
"Which you're handling like a boss, Mr. Callahan."
"Only because my better half is here to cheer me on."
A knock at the front door echoed up the stairs, slicing through our domestic bubble.
"Expecting anyone?" I asked, eyebrows raised.
"Not at all," he said, brows furrowing slightly.
I padded down the hallway, heels clicking against the hardwood floor. The knock came again, more insistent this time. Swinging the door open, I found myself face-to-face with Kieran, his dark hair tousled and eyes holding that familiar spark of mischief.
"Kieran?" My voice hitched in surprise. "What are you doing here?"
"Can't a brother drop by to see his niece and nephew?" Kieran's smirk didn't reach his guarded eyes.
"Of course, it's just..." I trailed off, the unexpectedness of his visit sending a ripple of questions through my mind.
"Surprise." He shouldered past, a duffle bag slung over his arm, leaving a trail of intrigue in his wake.
"Surprise?" I echoed, and my voice was a cocktail of disbelief and irritation. "To what do we owe this...honor?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Kieran shrugged off his duffle bag, his smirk fading into something more genuine as his gaze swept the room. "I wanted to meet the little ones."
I couldn't help the faint smile tugging at my lips, despite the annoyance nipping at its heels. Excitement bubbled up, unbidden, at the thought of him with the twins. But our history, a tapestry of love and betrayal, tempered my joy with caution.
"Tristan," I called up, hoping my voice didn't betray the whirlwind inside me.
"Everything alright?" His voice carried down, steady and calm.
"Your brother decided to grace us with his presence." I kept my eyes on Kieran, studying his every move.
"Did he now?" Tristan appeared at the end of the hallway, a slow smile spreading across his face as he caught sight of Kieran. It was that same smile he'd give me when I'd overthink the simplest decisions—a blend of reassurance and support that eased the tightness in my chest.
"Welcome, Kieran," he said, his tone warm yet guarded, a mirror of my own inner conflict. "Didn't think we'd see you this side of Christmas."
“I told you I was coming.”
“I didn’t think you were serious.”
"Yeah, well. Change of plans," Kieran replied with a nonchalant shrug, though there was an edge of something unreadable in his voice.
“You knew he was coming?” I asked Tristan.
“I called him, and he said he was coming, but…I don’t know. We’ve both been so overwhelmed with the twins and everything. It must have slipped my mind.”
I watched as Kieran settled into the plush armchair, his lean form a stark shadow against the room's softness. Tristan wheeled himself closer to me, and I felt the tension in my shoulders ease just a touch with his proximity.
"Adriana," he began, his voice even, "there’s one more thing. Carmen is on her way."
My eyebrows shot up, surprise flickering across my face. I was dying to see my mother, but fuck, I was definitely dying to see my sister.
"Really?" I managed to keep my reaction neutral. Tristan nodded, a knowing look in his eyes that said he understood what this meant for all of us.
"Let's make Kieran feel at home before she turns this place upside down," he said with a half-smile, one that didn't quite reach those deep blue eyes.
"Of course." I turned back to Kieran, letting hospitality take the lead. "Can I get you anything, Kieran? Coffee? Water?"
He shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "I'm good, Adriana. Thanks."
"Make yourself comfortable, then." My voice was warm, my stance welcoming. This house, nestled away from the chaos of The Callahan Domain, was more than just a sanctuary; it was a testament to the life we were building. A life where family and loyalty remained the cornerstones, no matter how complex the ties that bound us.
Kieran's gaze lingered on Tristan for a moment, something unspoken passing between them, before he leaned back into the chair, visibly relaxing. There was an ease in the way he occupied space, a quiet confidence that didn't need to be announced.
"Good to have you here," I added, meaning it. Despite everything, Kieran was family, and I had learned long ago that the bonds of blood, however tangled, were not so easily dismissed.
“She’s right. It’s good to see you.”
The air in the room shifted, heavy with unspoken words as Kieran stood up and closed the distance between him and Tristan. I watched, heart lodged in my throat, as they embraced—a deep, lingering hug that spoke volumes of their shared history. The stretch of silence was a canvas painted with shades of loyalty and old pain, love etched into the lines of Tristan's face as he clung to his brother.
"Good to see you, Kieran," Tristan murmured, his voice softening, a rare vulnerability peeking through his usual composure.
"Likewise," Kieran replied, pulling back but still holding Tristan's shoulders, an acknowledgment of the wheelchair that had become part of Tristan's world.
I caught the briefest glint of something like sorrow or regret in Kieran's eyes before it vanished behind his enigmatic fa?ade.
"Come," I beckoned, guiding Kieran toward where our twins lay cooing in their bassinets, unaware of the complexities surrounding them. "Meet Catherine Jean and Matteo Cian."
Kieran's features softened as he peered down at the babies. "They're beautiful," he said, genuine warmth seeping into his voice for the first time since he'd arrived.
"Cat has your brooding look already," I teased gently, watching as Kieran's finger grazed her tiny hand, her grip instinctively closing around it.
"Strong grip," he noted, the ghost of a smile dancing on his lips.
"And this little one here, he's got Tristan's charm," I continued, lifting Matteo from his bassinet. The infant settled into my arms with a contented sigh, and I held him out slightly toward Kieran. "Wants to be held by everyone."
"Seems like he'll be wrapping people around his little finger in no time." Kieran's guarded nature seemed to melt away in the presence of such innocence, his aura momentarily less brooding and more hopeful.
"Let's hope he uses that power for good," Tristan added, wheeling closer with a grin.
"Like his dad," Kieran shot back, a lightness in his tone that felt like a truce, a momentary peace in the turbulent sea of our lives.
"Exactly like his dad," I affirmed, sharing a knowing look with Tristan. Here, in this quiet Delaware house, we were just a family—complicated, fractured, but somehow, in moments like these, whole.
After feeding, changing and putting the babies back down, I caught a little nap while Kieran and Tristan caught up.
I got up to get a drink and hovered by the doorway, unnoticed for a moment, watching them.
"Remember when we swiped Dad's car for a joyride?" Tristan broke the silence, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of nostalgia.
"Got two blocks before it broke down," Kieran replied, a chuckle rumbling in his throat. "Thought we were goners."
"Should've been scared out of my mind," Tristan admitted, looking down at his hands, then back up at his brother. "But I wasn't—not with you there."
"Always had your back, lad." Kieran leaned forward, elbows on knees, the corners of his mouth turning up ever so slightly.
"Even after everything, huh?" There was a vulnerability in Tristan's question that made my heart twist.
"Especially after everything." Kieran's response was soft, almost lost beneath the hum of life outside these walls.
I stepped into the room, letting my presence be known. "You both have been through more than most could handle," I said, moving to sit beside Tristan. "Look at how far you've come."
"Thanks to you," Tristan said, reaching out to squeeze my hand.
"Yeah, he’s right. I think you’ve made everything make sense for Tristan,” Kieran said.
“Well, he’s going to have plenty of sleepless nights to regret all his decisions.”
Kieran laughed. Tristan didn’t.
"Someone has to keep you Callahan boys in line," I teased, a smile playing on my lips. Their laughter filled the room, easing the tension that always seemed to linger just beneath the surface.
"Seriously though," Tristan continued, his gaze flicking between Kieran and me. "You should have seen her. Adriana was just…fucking crushing it. She gave birth at home and she was amazing.”
“I’m sure she was,” he said. “The Orsinis are remarkable. Assholes, but remarkable.”
I laughed. So it wasn’t perfect…but this was fine. And with Carmen here, it might even be good.
Maybe I’d been wrong. Maybe everything was going to be fine.