Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Leon
Lunch goes by as smoothly as any of us could have hoped.
Sandwiches are devoured with less than perfect manners, chips are chomped on, and drinks are consumed without spillage.
Leo tries to keep the table lively with conversation, but even he has to quiet down in order to stuff his face with his favorite turkey club sliders.
Bastian ate just as much as his little brother, making quiet comments whenever he felt called to.
It was a relief to see them have such an appetite after saying goodbye to Rayna and Apollo.
I was pleased to see that the farewell wasn’t as difficult on either of my sons as I feared it may be.
They were easily distracted by Katya’s arrival, and filled with the knowledge that they’ll be seeing their aunt and uncle again soon.
Rayna and I both reassured them many times that there would be plenty of visits, and tried to make sure they understood that Vaughn needed to be raised in his house close to Papa, since he would be Capo after Apollo.
You might think that the roles of a syndicate would be difficult concepts for a child to grasp, but you’d be surprised.
It’s a lot like raising royalty, I imagine.
Lords, ladies, princes, princesses, and royals alike are all brought up around a structured hierarchy of power and it’s easy to slip into your role when you’re constantly seeing those systems in place.
Bastian and Leo know that their father is an Underboss, whether they truly know my role’s meaning or not.
Likewise, they know that Bastian is my firstborn, and therefore my heir.
It’s been known that some sons struggle with being second to their older siblings, but the Morettis have been lucky enough to avoid these issues.
Bastian and Leo are no different. Leo has never pouted or complained that Bastian will take my place one day.
If anything, he’s taken to the role of being his brother’s right hand.
He always speaks of keeping Bastian safe, like a knight in medieval times earning his spurs to one day keep his lord of a brother protected.
Seeing their bond become so tight-knit and so natural, it makes my heart rest easy.
“Have they always shared a room?” Katya asks, keeping her voice down as I shut my sons’ bedroom door behind me. Her expression is still soft, her features relaxed from watching Bastian and Leo fall asleep on the couch while insisting they didn’t need a nap today.
They made it less than an hour after lunch before they couldn’t keep their eyes open for even a moment longer.
With the excitement of the day, I knew a nap would be inevitable.
They might be little made men in the making, but they’re still so young.
Regular four and five-year-olds need sleep, especially when they run around as much as mine do.
Leo may seem like a boy filled with endless energy, but that’s because he recharges.
“Not always,” I reply quietly, nodding to gesture her away from the room.
Katya takes the cue in stride, following me down the hall, and eventually to the top of stairs.
“When Leo first came to us, we set up a separate bedroom for him. We wanted him to have his own space, so that he could be alone if he was overwhelmed. It was meant to be a way to help him warm up to the idea of a new home, and a new family…but he hated it.”
Even as we descend the stairs, I can see Katya listening intently, frowning as she hears of Leo’s unhappiness.
“He would cry, and have bad dreams, and he feared he was being left all alone again. Both of his birth parents left him and died, and he had no reason to trust that me and Cleo wouldn’t do the same to him.
We’d let him sleep wherever he wanted, of course.
My bedroom, hers, the couch, but he wasn’t quite comfortable yet. ”
“It must have been scary,” she mutters knowingly. “To be so young, so small, and to be somewhere entirely new without knowing if you’re truly safe.”
“He tried to be brave,” I mention with a swallow. “He’d always start in his bedroom, trying to sleep in his bed but he’d always end up in tears.”
Katya and I walk back into the living room together as my story continues, taking our seats on the couch where my kids fell asleep not too long ago.
“One night, Bastian heard him crying before we did. He got up out of his own bed, dragged his pillow and blanket into Leo’s room and made a bed on the floor.
I found him holding Leo’s hand, and speaking to him in Italian.
He told him that he didn’t have to be scared, because ‘Daddy will keep all the bad guys away.’ He told him that their papa was Capo, and everyone feared him so they would always be safe here.
And then he said that he would tell Mama to put their beds in the same room, so that they could share. ”
My throat feels thick as I swallow, a coil of emotion tightening inside of my chest at the vivid memory.
I can recall it like it was yesterday, the scene forever ingrained in my mind.
From Bastian’s red fluffy blanket, to Leo’s puffy, red-rimmed eyes and messy blonde curls.
I can remember the smile on their faces as I moved Bastian’s bed into Leo’s room for the night, so he needn’t sleep on the floor.
And I can remember every detail of the next day when Cleo combined their things into once big space fit for two.
“That’s so sweet,” Katya finally says, tucking her lip beneath her teeth. “I can tell that they love each other very much. And you…they adore you, Leon.”
“They like you too,” I point out truthfully. “They were so excited to see you that they passed out while talking to you.”
Her cheeks tint pink and she smiles wobbly. “I’m really glad things are going smoothly so far. The last thing I’d want is to disrupt their lives in a negative way.”
“I don’t think we’ll need to worry about that.
” It’s probably too early to proclaim such a thing, but my gut tells me it’s true.
“Do you want to take some time to settle in while they sleep? They’ll probably be out for at least an hour if you want to unpack or look around the house some more.
I think I told you before, but let me know if there are changes you want to make.
I don’t care much for the design or decoration of the house as long as it’s child friendly.
We have two little hellions on our hands that like to run around every corner of this place. ”
Katya’s pupils seem to dilate upon hearing my last sentence, specifically at the word we.
She likes the idea of being looped into the family, of taking on parental responsibility, and seeing the physical manifestation of that makes my blood heat up.
The concept of her being a nanny-like figure has become less and less appealing, but I know it’s likely too soon to shove her into a mom role.
I don’t know when the boys will be comfortable with calling someone else mom, either. Katya’s place in their life will be whatever they make it to be, I think. Her place in my life…well, that’s more up to her than it is to me.
“I should probably start hanging up my clothes,” she admits with a bit of a grimace. “Not the most fun activity but a necessary one. And I don’t know if I’ll have much to change, honestly. I’ll probably get a few things for my room, if that’s all right—”
“You don’t need to ask,” I interrupt softly. “Those rooms are yours to do with as you please. And don’t hesitate to use your credit card, okay? I would feel like a shitty husband if you were scared to spend money.”
“You’ve already given me far too much to ever be considered a shitty husband,” she murmurs, fidgeting in her seat.
“The piano, I-I haven’t had a moment to thank you for it.
It’s beautiful. I was going to ask about bringing mine from home, but now I’ll have one in each of the places where the people I care about live. ”
The baby grand came highly recommended by Bastian’s music tutor, a grumpy old Italian man who retired from performing nearly a decade ago.
A man who just happens to be awash with Outfit ties.
Never a made man himself, Ciro was surrounded by friends and family who were.
And from those connections, I knew he was safe to have around my son.
Not to mention, Bastian is the only person in the world who can make the man crack a smile.
“I’m glad you like it.”
Katya and I share a moment longer together before she gets up to go to her room. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t watch every moment of her walking away.
Making pizza together as our first dinner as a family may have been an ambitious start. The kitchen is a complete disaster zone covered in flour, cheese, toppings, and red sauce splatters. Although the mess is hard to care about while watching Bastian and Leo have the time of their lives.
“More cheese, pwease, Kat.”
Katya looks down at Leo’s pizza with hesitation, and then to his polite, innocently blinking eyes.
The monstrosity on the countertop in front of my youngest son is more cheese than it is pizza, his small circular dough covered with shredded mozzarella and sprinkles of parmesan.
He has no other toppings on it, but if he did, they would be buried under his mountain of cheese.
“I’m not sure it’ll bake properly if we put any more cheese on it, buddy,” Katya informs him, looking reluctant to disappoint him by saying no to his request.
“Mmmm,” he hums, considering her words. “What do you think, Daddy?”
Lifting my hand, I remove the basting brush from Bastian’s pizza crust and stick it back into our bowl of garlic butter. “I think if you put any more cheese on it, you’ll be eating cheese and bread soup for dinner instead of pizza.”
Leo twists his lips unhappily. “I do not want soup.”