Page 30 of The Godfather’s Christmas Twins
I turn toward the door, pausing with my hand on the handle. The guilt of my secret, the twins' paternity, presses down on me. But Daniella needs me, and right now, that's simpler than untangling whatever just happened with Max.
"Coming, Dani!" I call out, proud that my voice sounds almost normal. I slip through the door without looking back.
I hurry down the dimly lit hallway, my heart still hammering against my ribs. My lips burn from Max's kiss as I round the corner to find Daniella in her pink pajamas, clutching her stuffed elephant.
"What's wrong, baby?"
"I had a bad dream." Her bottom lip trembles.
I scoop her into my arms, breathing in the sweet scent of her shampoo. Her small arms wrap around my neck as I carry her back to her room. In the soft glow of her nightlight, I catchglimpses of Max in her features, the shape of her eyes, the curve of her mouth. My chest tightens.
"There we go." I tuck her back under her unicorn comforter, smoothing her dark hair away from her face. "Want to tell me about your dream?"
She shakes her head, already burrowing deeper into her pillow. I stretch out beside her, running my fingers through her hair the way she likes. As her breathing evens out, I glance to the other bed where Dario is sound asleep, his thumb in his mouth.
Sitting in the quiet darkness, my mind drifts back to Max's office, the heat of his body pressing me against the wall, his hands tangled in my hair. The kiss had been everything I'd dreamed about for the past six years, and now…
Daniella shifts in her sleep, curling closer. My throat constricts as I watch her peaceful face. How can I let myself fall for Max again when all the reasons I shouldn’t fall for him are still present? And yet, how can I keep the knowledge of his kids from him? These precious children are his, and he has no idea.
The reality is that the two are separate issues. Whether I fall or not doesn’t change the truth of his being their father. I’d planned to tell him last year. Now that Aldo and my father were gone, I felt safe to reveal the truth. So why am I hesitating now?
When Daniella is asleep, I make my way to my room, my mind whirling. I lie awake in bed, my fingers tracing my lips for the hundredth time. The kiss revealed everything I tried to deny. My feelings for Max never truly died. They just lay dormant, waiting for the smallest spark to ignite them again.
But what happens now? In the morning, will Max retreat behind his walls of duty and obligation? Will he avoid me like he did last year, treating our kiss as another mistake? The thought makes my chest ache.
Sleep eludes me as scenarios play through my mind. Max finding out about the twins and hating me for keeping themfrom him. Max pushing me away again, breaking my heart all over again. Max wanting more and finally having the fairy tale I’d hoped for six years ago.
I wakethe next morning and pad into the kitchen, steeling myself for what will happen. Will it be awkward?
As usual, Max and the kids are at the island, spreading peanut butter on toast.
"Mommy!" Dario waves his peanut-buttered-covered fingers. "We're making faces with fruit on our toast, see?” I look at his toast with two slices of banana for eyes and blueberries for a mouth. A single strawberry is the nose.
“My. How creative and tasty.”
Max glances up, his expression carefully neutral. "Coffee's fresh."
I move to the coffee maker, hyper-aware of his presence. The air feels charged, crackling with tension. But maybe it’s just me.
"Look, at mine, Mommy.” Daniella holds up her plate, her toast almost sliding off, but Max is there with the quick save.
"Very creative, sweetheart." I force my voice to stay steady as I pour coffee into a mug.
He clears his throat. "I have meetings this morning, so I need to rush out now.”
I check the clock. He’s normally here for another half hour before he leaves. Is he telling the truth, or is he trying to escape being around me? I have an incredible sense of déjà vu.
Or maybe he forgot. He’d been drinking, although I wouldn’t have said he was drunk.
“I’ve got this covered,” I say, hoping I sound normal.
Max slides a plate with more toast toward me, maintaining the façade of normalcy, and yet, it feels off. "I’m heading out." He ruffles the twins' hair. “Be good.”
"Thanks for breakfast, Uncle Max!" they say in a chorus.
Uncle Max. God. If only he knew.
He nods, still not meeting my gaze, and walks out. I spread peanut butter on my toast, thinking maybe this is better. Safer. If Max wants to pretend last night never happened, I should be grateful. It's not like I can pursue anything with him while keeping such a massive secret.