Page 130 of Chris

“Whatever it is,” Chris said when he answered the ringing phone while heading up the stairs, lest it wake up his sleeping wife or Maria, “make it good, and fast. I have better things to do this morning than talk on the phone.”

“Is that how you greet your father?”

“Well … no.”

“Good,” Gian said, “I was worried you forgot your manners in your new married life.”

“I’ve been married almost two months. You don’t think it might take longer?”

Gian made a noise under his breath. “I’ll be honest, I might as well have forgotten the rest of the world existed for the first six months of mine and your mother’s marriage. That was a wonderful time.”

“And that’s enough of that,” Chris muttered.

“Anyway,” Gian said, “I called for a reason. Happy birthday.”

“Who did you tell first this year, me or Corrado?”

“Both of us,” came the new voice on the call.

A three-way call.

Nice.

Chris chuckled. “Ah, Papa got smart this year.”

“Wouldn’t want either of you feeling left out,” Gian returned, his amusement clear.

A long running joke between Chris and his twin on their birthday was whoever got called first by their parents—mother or father—was clearly loved the most. It was only a couple of years ago that their parents caught onto the joke which they didn’t find all that funny. Or rather, their mother didn’t find it as cute as they did.

Their father played along.

They couldn’t say the same for their ma.

“And now can I go back to bed?” Corrado mumbled. “It was way too early for this.”

Chris checked his watch. “It’s nine.”

“Thank you for that information. I will let a very pregnant Ginevra and an extremely anxious Alessio know that their nightly habits of walking the halls and worrying about every little thing isn’t an acceptable excuse to keep me awake until two in the morning. Care to be here while I do that, brother? Or to lend me a couch when they kick my ass out?”

Gian laughed.

Chris was quick to say, “No, you’re on your own there.”

“Thanks for that, really.”

“I do what I can,” Chris replied.

“Go back to sleep, Corrado,” Gian said, “and call your mother later. Alessio isn’t the only anxious one lately.”

“Right, right. Later.”

One call clicked off, and Chris knew he was left with only his father. During his conversation, he had climbed the two levels of stairs in his three-level home and stood in the doorway of their master bedroom. Across the large space, Valeria slept happily under gray and white striped sheets, only a peek of her bare shoulders and a splash of black hair could be seen on her pillow.

God.

He loved this woman.

So much.