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 makeshiftbabysitter 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.”
CHAPTER 7
Galen opened his eyes, looking around in confusion at the unfamiliar surroundings. Thick, plush rugs covered most of the hardwood floor, polished to a glass-like shine; the closed curtains were heavy and blocked out all light; the dresser had many drawers; and the bed was large and comfortable.
Everything was much better than what he had back home, only comparable to how things were before his mother passed away. Back then, the faces of his favorite cartoon characters smiled at him from the posters on his room’s walls. There were many children’s books with funny illustrations on the bookcase, and toys were neatly arranged on the shelves.
Galen squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push the happy memories from his mind or at least hide them in its farthest corner. The more he thought about the happy past—when the only person who cared about him was still alive—the sadder he felt about his life now, which was gloomy and devoid of any sign of affection.
Galen’s large, well-lit room was given to his cousin Leonard, along with his toy cars, trucks, tools, and the Lego sets he loved so much. Most of the stuffed animals went to his other cousin, Charity, and the rest were donated to “Christian children in need,” his aunt told him when he asked. Those born of sin, like him, deserved no privileges, she explained in a bitter, venomous voice.
Getting out of bed, Galen let out a long, heavy sigh. As hopeless and joyless as it was, his life in the small, dark basement room of the house that once belonged to his mother was all he knew. The people living there made it clear in every possible way that they didn’t love him at all, but at least they were honest.
Unlike Mister Dad of the Year, who didn’t care about my existence for thirteen years, four months, and three days, and now he's pretending to care, Galen thought bitterly. He doesn’t even know what I need for school or what size my clothes and shoes are, yet he keeps bragging about buying me everything I need. Well, let’s see who tells that moron all these things, because I surely won’t.
With this thought in mind, Galen decided to get out of bed and explore the room, then continue with a tour of the house, which looked imposing from the outside. The boy was sure it had many rooms. He was already buzzing with excitement and anticipation, thinking about the secrets waiting to be discovered.
A strange noise from outside made Galen freeze, his feet dangling over the edge of the bed, close to the floor but not touching it. The boy listened carefully and soon distinguished another sound, a faint growl. The first noise he heard, like claws scratching against a board, grew louder and more insistent, paralyzing the teen.
