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He nodded. “Not well, but I added a French minor last semester. I had a lot of the classes done already.”
I squeezed his arm. “That’s great, sweetheart.”
We all chattered back and forth until Ettore’s eyelids starting falling. Everyone helped me clear the table and we retired to the living room. Marco and Hugo put on a horror film, which was their odd Christmas Eve tradition, and the twins climbed onto the other couch to join them.
I turned off the lights and curled up on the couch with my head on Lucien’s thigh. He had a large nonfiction book in his lap that he’d been trying to get through for weeks. His free time was still limited.
Silence fell except for faint screams and foreboding music from the TV. My heart was warm and full. Lucien’s hand stroked through my hair, only stopping when he wanted to make a note in the margin of his book. Idly, his fingers slid under the neckline of my sweatshirt and his palm rested on my upper back.
We wouldn’t always be this way. One day, my sons would have their own lives and it would go back to being just Lucien and I. Part of me was excited for that next phase and part of me was a little sad.
But for tonight, we had each other.
And it was everything I’d ever wanted.
EPILOGUE
LUCIEN
It was late when the boys finished their movie and went off to bed. Olivia was sound asleep with her head on my lap. Carefully, I carried her upstairs and she stretched out on top of the covers. Her lashes fluttered and her nails grazed my elbow.
“Will you check the house before bed?” she murmured.
“Of course.”
I left her sleeping and went back downstairs to lock the doors. The back porch light was on. I pulled the door open, snow rising in a cold gust. Marco stood at the edge of the deck with a cigarette in his fingers and a vacant expression on his face.
“Better not let your mother catch you smoking,” I said.
He glanced over his shoulder. “I don’t smoke unless I’m home.”
“Does it stress you out that much to be here?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I’ve just never bought any for myself, but you still always have a pack stashed here and there.”
He looked lost. The snow whirled around his figure, melting on his bare arms and sticking to his dark t-shirt. His heavy-lidded eyes stared back at me, unreadable, and the tip of his nose was red with cold.
“Come inside,” I said. “Have a drink in the office with me.”
He stabbed out his cigarette and followed me in. We moved down the dark hallway to my office at the back of the house. It was a spacious room with a triple window that looked out over the back lawn. I’d moved my desk so I could work and watch Olivia working in her garden.
“I’ve got a twenty-six year single malt,” I said. “It’s Christmas Eve, let’s break it open.”
Marco sank into the couch by the window. I went to the bar cart in the corner and made our drinks and sank into my chair at the desk. He took a sip and nodded.
“It’s good.”
I watched him carefully, but he was so goddamn hard to read. Olivia complained that she’d finally learned to understand me, but she still hadn’t cracked the code to reading Marco’s minute facial expressions.
“Your mother says you have a girlfriend,” I said.
He cocked his head. “Not yet. We’re not really…a thing.”
“Why have you not made it a thing yet?”
He sighed, running a hand over his face. “She’s the daughter of the university's president. It’s complicated, we’re not from the same background. I doubt her father would be jumping for joy at the prospect of his daughter dating me.”
“Well, I killed my wife’s father so I’m not the person to ask for in-law advice,” I said.
