Page 5 of Maldives & Mistletoe

“Yes, but—”

Adriano bent down to let the oldest of their two girls on the floor. The second Corrine’s feet touched the ground, she darted forward and stole the toy Joe had been quietly playing with while sitting in his chair beside his mother and father.

The quietest kid of the bunch, right there. Joe was the easiest of all their large brood to please, and make sure he stayed out of trouble. Being the oldest of all the kids, that was also a great help when it came right down to it.

Unless, of course, someone interrupted him or took away his things. Then, Joe turned into every other three-year-old who was ready to break some shit and make a lot of noise.

Like right now.

“My truck!” Joe wailed. “Gives back my truck!”

It was like a domino effect, really. One kid started to cry, and then slowly—one after another like a fucking train wreck you couldn’t stop and you just had to watch happen all the while—another kid started crying, too. And then another, and another.

There was no stopping it.

Nothing could be done.

Tommas and Abriella stood side by side and stared helplessly at one another as even their own son started wailing at their feet. Tommaso looked up at them with the biggest eyes—confusion and unhappiness staring back—as fat tears slid down his cheeks.

Life with toddlers was not for the weak.

Nope.

“I love you, Tommy,” Abriella murmured, “you know that, right?”

Tommas nodded. “Yeah, babe.”

“Good, so then you won’t mind me telling you that if you don’t fix this shit somehow, I cannot guarantee how much longer that love is going to last.”

Abriella knew her husband wouldn’t even take that personally. She was mostly joking, even if she was serious about the wanting him to fix this whole thing. And no wonder …

They were drawing attention. People waiting at the gate to get on the same plane were now staring at them, and their large group. Eyeing the kids like little bugs they thought were probably going to ruin their flight.

Not that they would be wrong.

Tommas scooped their son up from the ground, and held the boy tightly as he headed for the woman waiting behind a desk at the gate. Abriella followed behind him just because she felt like doing something other than listen to kids scream for another ten minutes. God knew it would take at least that long to get them all calmed down again.

“Thirteen seats just opened up if you had people on a wait list, thanks,” Tommas said.

The woman’s eyes widened. “I beg your—”

“We’re not flying today.”

“Oh, we’re going home?” Abriella asked him.

Tommas gave her a look from the side, grinned, and leaned forward to catch her mouth with his own like nothing was wrong in his world. Like the kids weren’t all melting down around them, and she didn’t have a raging headache.

“We’re not flying on this flight,” he told her. “I have something better in mind. What do I always tell you about trips, huh?”

Abriella grinned. “Always have a backup plan.”

“That’s right, babe.”

It paid to be rich, really.