Page 103 of The Godfather’s Christmas Twins
His words make me swoon. How different this year from last. Last Christmas, I’d wanted to tell Max about the kids, but he’d avoided me. The holidays before that blur together in memories of formal dinners and stilted conversations, first with my father and then with Aldo. But today? Today overflows with laughter and joy, wrapping paper scattered across the floor and the kids' excited voices filling every corner of our home.
Max's arms tighten around me as Daniella shows off her drawing, a family portrait with all four of us standing in front of what looks like our Las Vegas house.
"See? That's where we're going to live!" she explains, pointing to the squiggly palm trees she's added.
My heart swells at how easily the kids have embraced this change, how naturally they've accepted Max as their father. There's no trace of the fear or uncertainty that used to shadow our lives. Instead, I see only possibility stretching out before us.
"What are you thinking about?" Max murmurs against my ear.
"How different everything is now." I turn my head to meet his gaze. "Remember when you couldn't even be in the same room with me?”
“A moment of madness. Temporary insanity.”
“And this year… Santa brought me all I ever wanted.”
He smiles. “You must have been a very good girl.”
“I was thinking it was you… being good.”
“Is it good that I’m thinking about unwrapping you later?”
My body tingles knowing the sensual delights he’ll shower on me. “That’s very, very good.”
He sighs contentedly. “I’m the one who is lucky and so grateful. I don’t deserve any of this, any of you, but at some point, I must have done something right, because here you all are.”
“I love you, Max.”
“I love you more, Mrs. Giraldi.” He pulls me into a kiss.
“Oh, God, they’re kissing again.” Dario slaps his hand to his forehead.
“Come here, you little munchkins.” Max rounds them up, giggling and squirming as he pulls them on the couch into a family hug. I close my eyes, savoring the moment. This is everything I dreamed of but never thought I'd have—a real,loving family. But with Max and the kids, my life is complete. Oh, sure, there will be bumps in the road. That’s a part of life too. But I know with Max by my side, life is going to be filled with joy and love. Every day will be like Christmas.
EPILOGUE
Max – One Year Later, Las Vegas, Nevada
I wake before dawn on Christmas morning, my body still programmed to rise early despite having no business to attend to today. Gia sleeps peacefully beside me, her honey-blonde hair spilled across the pillow. The quiet of our Vegas home wraps around us like a warm blanket.
It’s been nearly a year since we moved back here, and sometimes, I still can't believe this is my life now. The empty halls that once echoed with my solitude now overflow with the sounds of my family. Dario and Daniella's laughter rings through the house daily, their footsteps pattering on the marble floors as they race to find me in my home office.
The tension with Nic has eased considerably since those first rocky weeks. He calls regularly now, not just to check on Gia and the kids but to discuss business and life like we used to. Having his blessing, however reluctant it might have been initially, lifted a weight. My conscience is finally clear.
My chest swells as I think about the Christmas morning ahead. The tree is surrounded by presents, maybe too many, but I can't help wanting to give my wife and children everything.This will be our first Christmas morning in Vegas as a real family. No more duty, no more denial, no more distance. Just us, together, building the life I should have fought for years ago.
A soft rustle next to me pulls my attention back to Gia. Even now, one year last night into our marriage, seeing her in our bed fills me with a contentment I never thought possible.
“Merry Christmas.” I pull her next to me.
“Hmm… I liked how we celebrated last night.”
I laugh. “You’re insatiable, Mrs. Giraldi.”
“It’s your own fault, Mr. Giraldi. You’re too sexy for your own good.”
I won’t deny how much her words inflate my ego. I’m a forty-two-year-old man trying to keep up with a twenty-five-year-old woman. I seem to be doing okay.
The patter of small feet in the hallway has Gia and me looking up toward the door of our room. Any moment now, they'll burst through our door, eager for us to join them at the Christmas tree.