CHAPTER 6
“I don’t need anything from you,” the boy, Galen, said, looking straight into Ottavio’s eyes, his voice steady and emotionless. “They were right. You don’t love me, and you don’t want me here. I…I don’t want to be here either.” The kid’s voice broke on the last few words.
“Tesoro, I swear on my father’s grave and on everything else I hold most dear that I had no idea of your existence.” Ottavio crouched in front of the boy, his voice soft and pained. “However, I promise to take care of you, protect you, and love you until my last breath.”
“Liar!” Galen almost shouted. “All you say is big, fat lies. I don’t want you; I want to go home. At least there, people don’t lie when they say they don’t love me.”
Ives gently patted his husband on the shoulder, who was about to ask the teen another question, and spoke in a calming voice.
“These people are just plain mean. Even if what they said was true—which it isn’t—they had no right to say those terrible words to you.
Now, can you tell me who those people are? ”
“Jenna, my mom’s sister, and her husband, Bob. Sometimes, Lenny, their older son, joined the choir.” Galen stopped, fighting the lump in his throat. “They came to our house after Mom died and moved in, saying it was too big for a snot like me.”
“I know it’s not much help, but I’m truly sorry for what they told you,” Ives said softly, gently stroking the kid’s dark-brown, slightly wavy hair. “No one will ever insult you, shout at you, or punish you in this house. I will handle this personally. I promise.”
The young man’s words had an unexpected effect on Galen: he began to cry, first silently, then in intense, uncontrollable sobs that tore through his fragile body, making him shake and shiver like a leaf in the wind.
He wanted to stop but couldn’t, and eventually he completely surrendered to the emotions he'd bottled up for the past eight years.
For a few seconds, Ottavio watched Galen in silence; he ached to comfort the boy, but was afraid—not of rejection, but of the unpredictable reaction the boy might have to the touch of someone he had come to hate with burning passion.
He stayed that way, crouched and unsure of what to do, for a long while.
However, Ottavio couldn’t bear to see Galen like that—crying in the middle of the hallway, a statue of heartbreak and loneliness.
He wrapped the boy in his strong arms and whispered words of reassurance and affection in his native language, unaware that the teen didn’t understand what he was saying.
If only I had asked Deanna for her phone number so we could talk from time to time, Ottavio said to himself, rubbing soothing circles on Galen’s back.
If only I weren’t so hell-bent on teaching the heirs a lesson about what it’s like to be an illegitimate son, and above all, if only I weren’t caught up in this obsession with Luca, my son wouldn’t have suffered as he did.
His son... The words, though unspoken, echoed in Ottavio’s mind, stirring a storm of emotions within his soul. Clearly, fatherly love wasn’t new to him; he had felt it four months earlier, when he first held the triplets just minutes after they were born.
However, what Ottavio felt while comforting Galen was very different, in a way he wasn’t sure he could explain.
Although the man didn’t fully realize it, the fatherly affection he felt for the boy he was desperately holding to his chest was mixed with guilt.
He had a lot to process, but one thing was clear: the only person to blame for what had happened to his son, for all the cruelty he had endured, was himself.
The warmth from Ottavio’s body seeped into Galen’s, making him relax and sag against the man. As the sobs gradually died down, the boy’s eyelids grew heavy with sleep until he finally gave in, resting his head on the man’s shoulder and sighing, murmuring something unintelligible.
Ottavio stood, holding Galen gently in his arms, and began to climb the spiral staircase slowly and carefully so the boy wouldn’t wake.
When he reached the first floor, he went to the room next to his and Ives’ bedroom, which was currently empty.
To his great relief, the door was already open, and the bed was made, ready for the boy to have a restful and comfortable sleep.
With utmost care, Ottavio gently placed Galen on the bed, removed his shoes, and tucked him in.
As he turned toward the door, a sound stopped him in his tracks.
He returned to the bed, crouched, and listened intently.
After a moment, the kid mumbled something unintelligible, then shifted restlessly.
For a couple of seconds, Ottavio just stood there, unsure of what to do.
Galen had just fallen asleep, emotionally and maybe physically exhausted, and Ottavio couldn’t risk waking him and undoing his progress.
However, he couldn’t resist seeing him like that any longer; he carefully reached out and caressed the kid’s forehead.
A cherished memory from his distant early childhood came to Ottavio’s mind, making him smile tenderly.
In a barely audible, hesitant voice, he began to sing a Sicilian lullaby as old as time.
All the women he knew, including his mother, used it to calm or soothe their little ones when they were scared or upset.
I should’ve remembered this a few months ago; we could have slept much more if I had. Ottavio smiled at the thought, watching Galen gradually relax, his breathing less labored. He waited a couple of minutes, then stood, brushed a rebellious strand from his eyes, and kissed his forehead.
Closing the door behind him, Ottavio pulled his phone from his jeans pocket and texted his secretary, telling her he couldn’t make it to work that day and asking her to send the agenda.
Fortunately, none of the scheduled meetings were important enough to require his presence, so he just reorganized a few things to make it easier for his team.
Ottavio wanted to go to his office downstairs to handle some urgent matters, but the sound of Ives’s voice cooing to the babies made him change his mind, and he went into the nursery instead. Seeing the little ones, fed, changed, and lively, brought a bright smile to his face.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t join our little morning ritual,” Ottavio said, smiling apologetically. “It took a while to get Galen to bed, and when I was about to leave, he started to get restless, so I had to…”
Ives left the armchair where he had been sitting and approached his husband, with little Vittorio-Vicenzo cocooned in his arms. “Please, don’t.
Promise me you’ll never apologize to me or anyone else for being a great father, for spending time with your children, for talking or listening to them, for trying to understand their feelings, or for supporting them. ”
“Thank you.” Ottavio captured his husband's lips in a hungry yet sweet, tender kiss. “Look, two sweet babies, happy that papa’s here,” he cooed, standing between Ana-Adelina’s and Massimiliano-Patrizio’s cribs.
“Let me tell you something: papa is very, very lucky, blessed, even, to have all of you in his life. There are the two of you, little angels, your brother, who, of course, is an angioletto himself, your dad, and his two very special friends. I love you all so much.”
“We love you, too,” Ives whispered, stepping beside him, the baby boy still in his arms. “Basile said our little bundles of joy were awake for quite some time when he came upstairs, so I guess they’ll fall back asleep soon, especially since our makeshift babysitter knows how to keep them active.
” He looked over at his husband. “When this happens, we can go downstairs and talk if you want.”
“I…” Ottavio swallowed hard as he looked into his husband’s jade-green eyes. “How did you know how much I need this? What did I do to deserve someone as understanding and loving as you, so... perfect?”
“If I’m perfect, it’s because you made me this way,” Ives answered in a grateful voice.
“You were strong for me over the last four years; now it’s time to return the favor.
” He smiled at the sight of his son soundly sleeping in his arms. “This little piggy is already in the land of dreams, and the others will follow shortly. I think it’s safe for us to go downstairs. ”
The other man nodded in approval, and five minutes later they were comfortably seated in two of the library’s large leather armchairs.
“As soon as that terrible social worker mentioned Galen’s mother’s name, I knew, without a shred of doubt, that the kid in the doorway was mine, my own flesh and blood. ”
A frown creased Ives’s forehead. “How? I mean, I’m not interested in the…um…technical details, but are you sure this lady didn’t have any other partners after you?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Ottavio responded immediately, a hint of melancholy in his smile.
“I know it’s a bit unusual to say this about a one-night stand, but Deanna wasn’t the type to jump from one bed to another.
Plus, she told me I’m the perfect candidate to be the father of the child she wanted.
” He took a sharp breath. "And the date Galen was conceived lines up with the night we spent together.”
“I was wrong.” Ives’s words surprised his husband. “I’m really, really interested in the making of, so to speak, the part that happened before the two of you landed in bed together. What was so memorable about that day that it was forever etched in your memory?”
“It was…” Ottavio stopped, then swallowed hard a few times before continuing. “That morning, Papa called Luca and me into his office. He told us he intended to arrange a marriage between my then-boyfriend and my younger brother, who was only fourteen. I… it was like the sky fell on me.”
Ives leaned forward, fixing his jade-green eyes on his husband’s dark-brown ones.
“I shouldn’t have brought this up; I didn’t realize these memories could hurt you so much.
Please, stop. It doesn’t matter how you met Galen’s mother.
As you said, the kid is your son, and I promise to help you raise him and be there for him. ”
“I know you’ll do that and much more,” Ottavio gave the other man a pale smile. “But I still feel the need to tell you everything. Let’s call it a confession, if you want.”
“Alright, then,” Ives reached for the other’s hand and gave it a light squeeze. “I’m listening to you. I won’t go anywhere.”
“I trudged through the day, and after dinner, I got in my car and drove to this bar, determined to drown my sorrow in alcohol. I ordered three tequila shots and downed them. The gorgeous woman sitting next to me asked if I wanted to kill myself, and I said yes. She told me her name was Deanna Wade. I told her mine, and we started to talk.”
“She must have been a very special lady for you to get out of the state you were in,” Ives remarked. He huffed. “Hells, she was special enough to get your attention in the first place.”
“Just like you, Deanna Wade was one of those people who left a lasting impression on everyone she met.” Ottavio’s smile brightened a little.
“She was open and honest with me about her intentions from the start, and once we were in bed, she showed patience and understanding toward the virgin I was. Yeah, Deanna was the first woman I slept with—and the last.”
“And the two of you gave one another the most amazing, beautiful, perfect present: Galen.” Ives looked at his husband, his eyes shining with love and determination. “You’ll raise him in a way that honors his mother’s memory, and I’ll help you. We’re in this together... partner.”