Page 279 of Cara & Gian: The Guzzi Duet

Or he tried to be.

That was all Gian asked of his oldest boy.

“Mook,” Marcus said, clearly done with looking at his brothers. He patted his father on the cheek with a slightly wet hand. Likely drool. Gian ignored the ickiness of it. “Mook, Daddy.”

“Yeah, we’ll get you some milk, bambino.”

It was better Gian did leave the nursery, anyway, as the twins hadn’t been down for very long, and Cara had only fallen asleep in the next room shortly after. If he woke them up, but especially Christopher, then Cara would have to get up, too. She needed her rest; she deserved to sleep.

She had wanted a shower while she had the chance to take one, but shit, Gian didn’t even think she was able to do that before she hit the bed. Out like a light.

Motherhood was tiring.

Tandem breastfeeding twins was exhausting.

Cara barely breathed a complaint.

Gian had always thought his lover was amazing, because how could he not think that when she had never proved him otherwise? Watching her navigate their twins simply reminded him of just how truly amazing she was. For him and their children.

Someday, he was going to be the luckiest man in the world—more so than he already was—and he would be able to tell their sons why they too were so lucky. Because they had a mother like Cara, who had loved them and given them every part of her that was good and beautiful from the moment she knew they existed.

Gian was just a sinner in nice clothes.

Cara was the angel.

Marcus hugged tighter to his father as Gian closed the nursery door as quietly as he possibly could. Downstairs in the kitchen, he found his mother wiping down the countertops. The room smelled like Lysol, and the dishwasher was running.

“Ma,” Gian said, putting Marcus down to the clean floor. “You don’t have to come over here to clean all the damn time.”

“Nonsense,” Celeste replied blithely. “This is how we help.”

Their house wasn’t dirty, anyway. They had a three-day-a-week maid. Cara was a bit anal on cleaning, too, and Gian picked up after himself and Marcus. Apparently, just the two of them made more messes than the twins.

That was a complete exaggeration …

Gian smelled the air as Marcus toddled toward the fridge, still voicing his desire for milk. Repeatedly. “And you’re cooking something, too.”

“A casserole. Cara doesn’t need to be cooking all the time with the new babies.”

“I do help, Ma.”

Celeste eyed him over her shoulder, smiling slightly. “I know you do. You’re a good man in that way, Gian. Of course you are, I raised you, silly boy. But other than your maid—who, by the way, needs a lesson on dusting higher than eye-level—who is here helping you and Cara?”

No one.

Gian had wanted to hire a nanny to help Cara, especially when he had to go into the city for most of the day, and didn’t get back until late. Cara would hear none of it. A nanny was not going to raise their children, and if Gian brought one home, he wouldn’t like what happened after. Or, that’s what Cara told him. He chose not to test the theory out.

“We appreciate it.”

Celeste’s smile grew wider. “That’s all I want to hear.”

He wished it was that simple, though.

Unfortunately, his father was not of the same mindset that his mother was. Frederic and Gian had not quite made amends for the choices that had needed to be made years ago. His father had yet to meet the twins, and he hadn’t even seen Marcus since the boy’s last birthday. Gian suspected when Frederic did come to see them, it would not be when his only living son was in the house, too.

Gian wanted to feel guilt for his actions that pushed his father away, but he couldn’t.

Had he made a different choice …