🌷 WELCOME 🌷

HELLO!!

LET’S PRETEND IT’S BEEN A LONG TIME SINCE WE LAST SPOKE!!!!

How are you all???

You must love me a lot to be here again.

Alright.

In this story, you’ll see:

Lots of different POVs. Gio’s. Rava’s. Marco’s. Noah’s. Lorenzo’s :)

(Maybe even Jin’s and Daisy’s if I feel like it.)

Here, we’re going to see Gio and Rava as… PARENTS.

Yup. You heard that right. Parents.

(I might surprise you with a bit of smut too😼)

update: there’s smut.

These kids are going to be raised by this friend group.

I think you already know the chaos that’s coming.

The first chapter will go up… I don’t know when :)

Soon though.

1) Parenthood

• 3 Years Later *

Gio’s POV

Who the hell would’ve told me that at twenty-eight, when I used to swear I’d be a professional racer, breaking speed limits and bones, my biggest goddamn problem would be finding the right lullaby.

Because now I’m not just a husband.

Nah. That title lasted, what, a year?

Now I’m a dad. Yeah.

I’ve got this tiny two-year-old human standing in front of me, with lips shaped exactly like mine, eyes so freakishly similar it’s borderline creepy.

Antonio.

We had, and still have, the best surrogate anyone could dream of.

Marco’s sister. Valentina. Fucking legend.

We were looking everywhere, stressing over it, and she just offered out of nowhere.

Said, “I’ll do it!”

Pregnancy went smooth as hell, she handled it like a champ, and now we’re doing it again.

Rava’s turn this time. We’re having a girl.

Name? No clue yet. We’ve got time. She’s only three months in.

Valentina lets us come with her to every appointment, every ultrasound, and I swear, Rava cries.

Every. Single. Time. He’s ridiculous. And I love him so much for it.

Antonio might be my kid biologically, but he’s got Rava’s manners.

Swear to God, the kid’s a saint. He adores him, like full-on worships him.

Every time Rava’s out, he comes to me with those big eyes and goes, “Daddy, where Dada go?”

Breaks me every damn time.

His first word wasn’t even “Daddy.”

It was “Vava.”

Tried to say Rava out of nowhere one night while we were talking.

Daisy was here. Burst into tears instantly. Like ugly crying.

Oh right—

Daisy and Lorenzo got married! Last year.

My boy proposed under the fucking Northern Lights.

Absolute cinema.

Daisy fainted. Literally hit the snow.

I keep saying Lorenzo’s gonna be the next one to faint, the moment Daisy walks in waving a pregnancy test at him.

Can’t wait to see that chaos unfold.

Ricardo… the legend.

The myth. The hamster.

At Antonio’s first birthday, someone thought it’d be a great idea to pop a balloon right next to him.

Big mistake. Huge.

He died.

The poor bastard froze like he’d seen God.

Lorenzo cried. Like, actual tears. Didn’t go to work for two days. Mourned like we’d lost a national hero.

But hey, we made it up to him. A week later, we showed up with two new hamsters, Giuseppe and Giulia.

Lorenzo swore he’d “never love again.” Five minutes later, he was hand-feeding them sunflower seeds and whispering, “Ricardo would’ve wanted this.”

I swear, that man’s built for drama.

A few months ago, Marco took on this massive court case.

The kind that makes the news and has reporters outside in suits and ties and all that.

And of course, they won. All thanks to him.

Man went full beast mode in there. Did his thing, walked out like a boss.

And Noah… Jesus Christ.

He hasn’t shut up about it since. He’s out there flexing Marco to literally everyone.

Clients, friends, random baristas. “Yeah, my man won a case so big they’re still talking about it in court hallways.”

He calls Antonio Tony, by the way. Like he’s already a grown man running his own tattoo shop.

Every time he comes over, it’s the same thing.

“Yo, Tony! You’re coming to the studio with me soon, right? Gotta start you young, man. And get a license already.”

Kid just blinks at him and drools.

Since Antonio came home, everything’s different.

Me and Rava are closer than ever, but we’ve got way less time for… each other.

No more lazy mornings. No more staying up till dawn talking shit.

Now it’s mostly baby food, and a toddler who thinks 3am is playtime.

Do we regret it? Fuck no.

But we both feel the gap, the exhaustion, the missing us .

So we try. Little things.

A hand on the back while passing in the kitchen. Random kisses. A quiet “I got this, go sleep.”

We’re not just Gio and Rava anymore. We’re a family now.

Rava’s about to get home any minute.

Antonio just crashed for his nap, thanks to the amazing lullaby I sang him.

Well… technically, I was just listing the steps for changing a bike exhaust…

But I did it in a sing-song voice, so it worked.

Kid’s two. He doesn’t know shit.

I’m a phenomenal dad. But now I gotta be a good husband too.

I get up slowly, careful not to wake the little king.

That’s always the hardest goddamn part.

I swear, he won’t wake up when my bike roars outside, but if I breathe too loud, boom.

Eyes open.

Somehow I make it out of the room alive.

Food. Right. Shit. I check the clock.

We’ve got about an hour before our son starts screaming again.

So I start making his favorite steak.

I hear the door open.

He’s quiet, he knows Antonio’s asleep.

Walks in slow, smiling big. Waves at me. Whispers, “Hi, Fontana No.1.”

I walk up and kiss him on the forehead. “My baby.”

He grins. “Ooooh, you cooked? I could’ve done it.”

I smirk. “Yeah, but this way we save time.” I tilt my head a little. “Means we’ve got time for a shower together. You in?”

He makes that face. The shocked one.

“Is that even a question?!” he whispers. “We haven’t showered together in forever . Move your ass.”

I laugh under my breath, grab his hand, and we’re running to the bathroom like two idiots who still can’t believe we made it here.

The water’s warm, but hell, not warm enough to chase off this December cold biting through the windows.

Drops are sliding down Rava’s chest. My baby is glowing.

I push his wet hair out of his face, just to see him better.

His face… I don’t know how the hell it’s possible, but it’s even more beautiful than when I saw him again at twenty-two.

He’s twenty-seven now. And every goddamn year, he gets hotter. I swear.

I lean down a little. Press the softest kiss to his lips.

He melts. Then pulls back with that dazed look in his eyes. I grab the sponge and start rubbing him down, slow.

“I was thinking,” I murmur, “tomorrow we give Antonio to Noah and Marco for a few hours… and I take you out.”

He smiles, eyebrows lifting. “You trust them with Antonio that long?! After that time Noah almost gave him a tattoo?”

I laugh. “Almost. He didn’t do it though. Come on! I just want some time with my husband. Just us.”

He makes that face, the - fine, you win again

• face.

Kisses me back. Smiling. “Alright. We deserve it.”

“Exactly.” I rinse the sponge off. “I’ll book the restaurant as soon as we get out.”

He nods. Then looks down. Back up.

And he’s got that look.

Oh my God. Yes. I can’t believe this is happening.

I lean down and murmur in his ear, “You’ve got time, I think.”

He nods. Drops straight down.

Fuck me, his mouth is warm. So warm I feel my knees lock.

This is like…

Like lying down after eight days of no sleep.

It’s comfort. It’s bliss.

My jaw goes slack, but I keep quiet.

Hold the back of his head, guiding him slow while he’s eating me.

But then I hear a tiny knock knock.

We freeze. Both of us.

Our eyes are wide open.

“Daddy??? Dada??”

Oh, no.

I slam the water off. “Antonio… why are you up?” I ask, pretending I’m calm when I sound like a busted radiator.

“I miss Dada.”

My baby.

Rava covers his mouth. “I’m gonna cry. He misses me.” He raises his voice, soft. “I’m here, baby!”

“What are you doing?”

Shit.

“Uh—Dada was helping me with… something!” I say.

“Can I come?”

“NO! No, no—stay there, baby. I’m coming!”

I blow out a breath, give Rava a quick kiss. “Rinse off and go sit at the table, okay? I’ll put him down and be right back.”

He nods, still laughing under his breath.

I grab a towel, wrap it around my waist, and step out.

Antonio’s sitting on the floor playing with Blu, completely unbothered.

“Hey, why are you out of bed, huh?”

“I miss Dada.”

I laugh, scoop him up. “Dada’s gonna eat now, and when you wake up, you’ll play together with your tootoos, okay?”

He calls his toy cars tootoos. Because apparently every car is a train now.

We go back into his room. He’s already half-asleep in my arms.

“Daddy, I’m thirsty.”

I hand him his bottle. “Here, champ. Drink. Then sleep, okay? Dada will be sad if you don’t.”

He nods. “Sing for me again,” he mumbles.

“Alright,” I sigh, sitting beside his crib. “But just one.”

I clear my throat. “Hmm… let’s do the Vroom Vroom song, yeah?”

He smiles and nods, eyes still shut.

So I start whisper-singing some completely random crap about Marco’s and Lorenzo’s bikes.

How they’re so damn loud they could make the walls cry, and how my ears ring for two hours after they pass by.

For some reason, the kid loves it. Every time I go “vroom vroom,” he giggles like it’s the best track he’s ever heard.

He falls asleep halfway through the chorus.

I tiptoe out, close the door halfway, and exhale like I just defused a bomb.

Time to get dressed.

I swear, having sex or even doing anything remotely romantic these days feels like a full-on challenge.

If I manage to make Rava finish in under two minutes, or the other way around, I feel like a goddamn legend.

Parenthood, man. Pure chaos and trophies.

I pull my shirt over my head and walk to the kitchen.

Rava’s already there with his elbows on the counter.

“He’s asleep?” he asks.

I nod, drop into the chair beside him, and let my head fall against his shoulder.

Lulu jumps up on the other chair.

Poor girl’s been having stomach issues lately. We’ve been running to vets nonstop. She still eats fine, still wags her tail, but she’s sleeping way more now.

I hope it’s not what I think it is.

I take a bite of steak, chew slow, then glance at him. “You mad this is happening?”

He frowns. “What’s happening?”

“That… our time’s kinda limited. For certain… things.”

He gives me that are you out of your mind? look. “Mad? Are you kidding me? I love our life, Gio. Sure, I’d like a little more time for just us, but we knew what we were signing up for. We’ll get through it. It’s worth it. I’m not complaining. I love you both too much to complain about anything.”

I smile. Cause I really needed this.

I lean in, wrap my arm around his neck from the side, and kiss him slow.

“I love you, Ravioli.”

He grins, presses his forehead to mine. “I love you too, baby.”

————

HELLOOO:)

So, I know I said it would just be one shots, but there’s actually going to be a small storyline running through it, you’ll see certain things developing over time, like the birth and stuff like that.

But each chapter will still focus on a different theme!!

Chapters will probably be longer than this one, but definitely not as long as the Ride or Die chapters, since I’ll be spending most of my time preparing the book for the paperback version :)

That’s all, tell me what you think about the first chapter :)

Also, feel free to request any scenes you want to see, and I’ll do my best to write them!!!

BYE BYE I LOVE YOU !❤️

2) Uncle Lolezo

Rava’s POV

We’re sitting under the Christmas tree, Antonio and me, surrounded by a full army of toy cars and mini bikes.

We’ve got matching sweaters on. Gio’s mom bought them for us.

Red, cozy, obnoxiously festive. Perfect.

Gio’s out with Lorenzo, hunting down last-minute Christmas gifts.

It’s quiet in the house. The good kind of quiet.

Antonio’s got all his cars lined up side by side like he’s running a dealership.

Except one. One tiny red car sitting in front of them all.

I smile. “And why’s that one in front, huh?” I ask, laughing.

He grins, all dimples and baby teeth. “It’s Daddy’s car!”

Oh God. I love this kid so much it’s unreal.

Gio keeps putting him in the Ferrari, letting him hold the steering wheel, pretending he’s driving.

And Antonio lives for it. The attitude. The grin. The little vroom noises. All of it.

“Dada! Here!” he says, handing me a car.

“Oh, we’re racing now?”

He nods, giggling.

And it hits me.

Antonio has the exact same expression as Gio.

That tiny smirk, the spark in his eyes. I’m gonna cry.

It’s like watching Gio as a toddler, right in front of me.

“Okay,” I say, holding my car up. “On three, alright?”

“Yes!”

“One, two… three!”

We move the cars back and forth, making crash noises, fake smoke sounds.

They slam into each other, and I pretend to lose on purpose.

“Oh nooo, I’m losing! Daddy’s car is the best one! Again!”

Antonio bursts out laughing, collapses into my arms. I wrap him up completely, squeezing him while he giggles into my chest.

I’m the happiest man alive. Genuinely.

I can’t believe we ever lived without this little soul in our house. I can’t picture us without him anymore.

I run my hand through his messy black hair and press a kiss to his tiny head.

Then the sound.

That beautiful, roaring sound.

The engine.

We both freeze, our eyes go wide open.

Antonio gasps.

I climb up the couch to reach the window. “Is that…”

“DADDY!!!” he screams.

He follows me, trying to reach the window.

Someone’s with Gio.

Antonio’s eyes widen even more. “It’s Uncle Lolezo!!”

He squeals, jumps down, and takes off running toward the door.

I follow, laughing.

We’re both standing by the door, waiting.

Antonio’s bouncing on his toes, eyes glued to the handle.

The second the lock clicks, the door swings open, and there they are.

Gio and Lorenzo. Still wearing their helmets.

They look like two action figures who forgot to retire.

Lorenzo pulls his helmet off first and immediately gasps.

“IF IT ISN’T MY FAVORITE NEPHEW IN THE WHOLE WORLD!!!”

Antonio squeals as Lorenzo scoops him up and spins him around, both of them laughing loudly.

Gio drops the shopping bags on the table, takes off his helmet, and crosses over to me.

Kisses me soft. “Hey, baby. How’d you two do?”

I point at the cars still lined up by the tree. “Your car won again. Twenty-ninth day in a row.”

He smirks, shaking his head as he pulls off his riding gloves.

“Of course it did.”

He locks eyes with Antonio, opens his arms. “There’s my champ! What’s up, little guy?”

Antonio’s so hyped he nearly loses his balance. I catch him just in time, and Gio chuckles.

Lorenzo leans down, grinning. “Antonio, man, I got a surprise for you.”

Gio raises a brow. “Why are you talking to our kid like he’s your accountant?”

“Because he is one of us now,” Lorenzo says, straight-faced. “He’s gotta learn the game.”

Then back to Antonio. “I’m gonna wash my hands, and then I’m coming back for you.”

Antonio follows him like a shadow. I hear water running and a bunch of splashing noises.

Gio flops down next to me on the couch, half on top of me.

“Excuse me, sir, you’re kinda crashing me!”

“Shhh,” he mutters, face buried in my shoulder. “Let me be. I need love too. The kid’s been stealing all of it lately.”

I laugh and run my fingers through his hair. “That’s not true,” I say softly.

He hums, presses a kiss to my neck, and for a moment it’s just us.

Then Lorenzo and Antonio come out of the bathroom while their hands are dripping.

Antonio tries to climb onto us.

Gio grabs him, and suddenly we’re all three tangled together on the couch.

Lorenzo stands there, hands on his hips.

“Aww, a house full of Fontanas,” he says, smirking. “That’s expensive.”

Antonio scrambles up from Gio’s lap.

“That’s right,” Lorenzo laughs. “Come here, little guy. Let your dads fall in love all over again like it’s day one.”

Gio’s laughing against my chest now.

Lorenzo claps his hands. “Alright, time for the surprise!”

Lorenzo drags this massive box in front of Antonio, wrapped in shiny Christmas paper, red and gold, big enough to fit a small motorcycle in there.

He taps his chin dramatically. “Hmmm… who could this big present be for?”

“Blu?” Antonio asks.

“Nooo,” Lorenzo says, pretending to inspect the tag. “Wait, it says… hmm… I think it says Antonio.”

Antonio gasps, turns to look at us.

His face is glowing like the damn tree behind him.

Gio grins. “You’re not opening that today, little man. You’ll open it on Christmas. Just a few more days.”

Antonio immediately pulls the saddest face I’ve ever seen.

Lorenzo crouches down, holding back a laugh. “Don’t stress, my dude. Your uncle came prepared.”

He pulls out a smaller box, bright blue paper, with messy tape.

Antonio tears it open, and when he sees the race car inside, he screams.

Literally screams.

“We’ll play together,” Lorenzo says, “but first, I gotta change you, ’cause someone here made a mess.”

He lifts him up and glances at us. “I’ll take my time on purpose. You two just got yourselves a solid ten minutes for a cuddle puddle.”

Gio mutters, “I love you.”

Lorenzo grins. “I know,” and disappears down the hallway with Antonio kicking and giggling in his arms.

Gio bolts to his room, throws on his hoodie, and in less than a minute, he’s back, crashing beside me on the couch in front of the tree.

Lulu jumps up, circles twice, and settles on our feet.

I run my fingers through Gio’s hair, slow and rhythmic, like I’m trying to put him to sleep.

He hums, half-asleep already. “Now I get why Antonio knocks out when you do that,” he mumbles. “I’m about to pass out too.”

I laugh quietly. “Saw it in a video once. Glad to know it works on all ages.”

He burrows closer against me, and I pull the blanket over us.

“You got a lot of work tomorrow?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Nah. You wanna go somewhere?”

“I was thinking maybe we take him to the playground. Bring Blu too.”

“Yeah,” Gio says softly. “Of course.”

I twist my ring around my finger, smiling. “You should see him when he hears your bike pull up. His whole face lights up.”

“That’s because someone taught him that,” Gio says, smirking. “Didn’t learn it on his own. So you did good, baby.”

I blush, try not to smile too wide. “Tomorrow, you think we could stop by Valentina’s too? If she’s not, you know… throwing up every five minutes?”

Gio laughs. “Yeah. I wanna check on our girls.”

“Same,” I say. “Can’t wait to see her. I wanna know everything.”

He nods, eyes half-shut. “I’ll bring the weekly questionnaire,” he says, dead serious. “Make sure she’s following doctor’s orders.”

I chuckle. “Relax, she knows what she’s doing. She’s brilliant.”

“You’re right. Sorry. I’m just… excited.”

And I am too. For all of it.

The little family that became my whole damn life.

He turns to look at me, serious for once.

“I’m gonna pray to whatever god’s out there,” he says, “that our little girl gets your eyes.”

I laugh softly. “Oh yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” he nods, dramatic as ever.

“But if she gets your waist? We’re screwed. Every lesbian and thirsty dude within a ten-mile radius is gonna come for her. I’ll have to fight ’em all.”

“Gio,” I say, choking back a laugh, “she’s not even born yet, and you’re already planning a war.”

“I don’t care,” he says, deadpan. “She’s already here to me. I gotta protect her and raise her standards. Make sure no one wastes her time.”

I can’t stop laughing now. “Yeah, and then she’ll grow up miserable because she’ll be like, ‘hmm, my dad would’ve done it better.’”

He smirks, proud. “Exactly. Until she finds someone worth her time. She’s not settling for less.”

“Okay,” I say, grinning. “And what if it’s like… you and my dad all over again? What if we hate whoever she picks?”

“Well,” he says, rubbing his jaw like a mob boss, “depends. If he’s actually dangerous for her, she’s not going anywhere near him. For example if he’s a murde—”

And then Antonio crashes into us, full force.

We both grunt.

Lorenzo walks in behind him, sighing. “Damn. Daisy would be proud of me. Changed a diaper, no tears. None.”

He plops down on the floor beside us, in front of the giant Christmas tree.

Stares up at it like he’s critiquing art. “You could’ve added more lights. It only has, what, 32,000 strings?”

“You’re jealous,” Gio fires back immediately.

“Shut up,” Lorenzo says. “Antonio, come here, man. Open that gorgeous race car your favorite uncle got you.”

Antonio grins. He struggles with the box, tiny hands fumbling with the tape, determined.

He finally pries it open and gasps, looking straight at me instead of the toy.

“Dada!” he says, with huge eyes.

I do the same, clutch my chest, pretend to gasp. “Woooow!”

“What do we say when someone gives us a present?” I tell him.

Antonio turns to Lorenzo, throws his little arms around him. “Thank you, Uncle Lolezo.”

Lorenzo hugs him tight, smiling. “Any words you want, baby,” he says softly. “Any words you want.”

Antonio’s sitting cross-legged on the rug, explaining something with pure toddler intensity.

His hands are flying everywhere, his words are tripping over each other.

He’s trying so hard to make Lorenzo understand how he lined up his cars.

There’s a whole system apparently.

The kid’s basically running a motor empire and we’re just his audience.

Lorenzo’s smiling, nodding along, pretending he gets it.

Then he glances up at us, muttering through his teeth.

“Help. Guys. I think your kid’s talking to me, but I have no idea what he’s saying.”

I lose it. “He’s explaining that the red one in front is Gio’s car, the boss, and the rest are his soldiers.”

“OOOH, okay!” Lorenzo nods like he just cracked the code.

“This one’s your dad’s?”

Antonio nods proudly.

“Nice… but, uh, I drive better than your dad.”

And that’s when it happens. Something no one saw coming.

Antonio freezes. His tiny face falls apart.

And then he starts crying.

Lorenzo covers his mouth with both hands, his eyes go wide.

I’m just as stunned, but Gio’s already cackling.

“Serves you right,” Gio says, grinning. “He’s my biggest fan.”

“I didn’t mean it!” Lorenzo blurts.

“Relax,” I say, trying not to laugh. “He’ll get over it in two minutes.”

Gio scoops Antonio up, wipes his tears. “Hey, champ. The uncle didn’t mean I’m not a good driver, okay? You got sad ’cause he said he’s better?”

Antonio sniffles and nods, tiny nose running.

Gio chuckles, rubbing his back.

“Antonio,” I say gently, leaning closer, “uncle Lolezo just meant he’s really good too, like Daddy! Sometimes one wins, sometimes the other. Both super good drivers, right? You’ve seen Lolezo drive lots of times.”

Antonio sniffles again, wipes his cheeks with his sleeve. “Yeah.”

“So why be sad then, huh?”

Gio wipes the last of the tears from Antonio’s cheeks and speaks with that dad-voice he gets when he’s trying not to laugh.

“Hey, listen to me for a sec, champ.”

Antonio sniffles, his little hands are still clutching the red car.

“Okay,” Gio says, “so, sometimes people say stuff we don’t like. Does that mean we cry every time?”

Antonio shakes his head.

“Exactly. We don’t cry, because it doesn’t change what they said, right? We just breathe, think about it, and move on.”

He taps the red car gently. “You know how this one’s fast? But there are other cars that are fast too? Same thing with people. Daddy’s a good driver. Uncle Lolezo’s a good driver. Dada’s good at a bunch of things I’m not.”

Antonio tilts his head, thinking.

“See? There’s always gonna be someone who’s good at something. That’s cool. You can learn from them instead of getting sad. You gotta be proud of other people sometimes, yeah?”

Antonio nods slowly.

Gio smiles. “Good. ’Cause you know what happens when you do that?”

“What?” Antonio mumbles.

“You get better too. That’s how it works. Winners don’t whine, they learn.”

Antonio grins a little at that, probably because the word whine sounds funny.

Gio ruffles his hair, using a softer voice now. “I’m proud of you, okay? You’re allowed to feel things, but we don’t let small stuff ruin our day. Deal?”

Antonio nods again, firm this time.

“Good boy,” Gio says, kissing the top of his head. “Now go show Uncle Lolezo how you drive without crying this time.”

Antonio jumps off his lap, runs straight to Lorenzo yelling, “RACE!”

Gio leans back against the couch, smirking. “That’s my boy,” he mutters. “Drama fixed.”

Lorenzo crouches down beside them. “Antonio, it was just a joke, okay? Even if I wanna be, your daddy’s the best. Always. But don’t cry, you’re making me sad now, alright?”

Antonio nods.

“Good,” Lorenzo says softly. “Now come here. Give your favorite uncle a hug. No hard feelings, right?”

Antonio shakes his head, climbs into his arms.

Lorenzo hugs him tight, muttering over his head, “Jesus Christ, I almost had a heart attack.”

Gio smirks. “Yeah, you hit a sensitive spot, man. We’ll work on that…”

---

Y’all, I want you to meet my hamster. Ricardo.

He’s pink cause I had no other options, he’s sassy now.

He’s a very busy man. You BETTER say he’s cute. Real Lorenzo said he looks adorable.

Also, these chapters are short and super easy to write, so I’ll probably be uploading often!!!!! ❤️

ALSO imma post a drawing with Rava’s back tattoo tonight on my insta, you better go check it.

LASTLY

3) I’m Sorry

Gio’s POV

I put the little king down for his nap. Finally. Silence.

Walk into the kitchen literally half-asleep, rubbing my eyes.

Rava is there.

Leaning on the counter, hands planted on the corners.

Head down.

What the fuck now.

“Ay, what happened?” I mumble, touching his waist.

He lifts his head.

Oh.

Jesus Christ. That look.

“What the hell happened?!”

“Come here,” he says.

Tone?

Not friendly. Not even close.

He’s standing in front of a glass of milk. Just staring at it.

He nods at it. “Put your hand in.”

“… What?! “

“Your hand,” he repeats. “In the milk.”

I squint at him. “Rava, have you lost your damn mind?”

He exhales sharply, and mutters, “Fine. I’ll do it for you.”

He dips his hand in the glass, and when it comes back out…

He’s holding his AirPods and a flash drive.

I blink. “What the—what is that?”

He looks at me, cold.

“The project I’ve been working on… For my students. The one I was planning to finish after Christmas.”

His voice cuts clean, no emotion left. “It would’ve been fine if you’d just listened and locked the door like I said.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault now?” I shoot back. “Why’d you leave it where Antonio could reach it?”

His mouth falls open. “Unbelievable. You’re blaming me ? Should I apologize, too?!”

I rub my face. “I’m just saying—we’ve got a kid who spins like a damn tornado all day. It probably happened while we were cleaning the table or something.”

“I don’t care when it happened,” he snaps.

“I’m not blaming the kid, obviously. I’m blaming you , because you ignore me every time I ask you to do something.”

“Rava, you think I heard you and ignored you? Maybe it slipped my mind, or maybe you whispered it under your breath while the baby was screaming. Jesus.”

He glares. “Now I’m supposed to lose all my work because you can’t listen.”

I throw my hands up. “Calling me deaf isn’t gonna bring your damn project back, you know that, right? Stop looking for someone to crucify.”

He goes quiet. Just one cold “Alright.”

Then he walks off, leaving the wet flash drive dripping milk on the counter.

No. Fuck that. He’s not walking away like that.

I never ignore him.

I follow him down the hallway.

He heads straight for the bathroom, pissed.

Door halfway closed when I shove my hand against it and walk in.

“I didn’t hear you ask,” I say. “So don’t blame me for that.”

He turns and looks at me. “Sure. Pretend you didn’t hear me. Let’s say you didn’t, actually. When you saw the door open, did it not cross your mind to close it?”

“Rava,” I groan, running a hand through my hair. “I’ve been sleeping on my feet lately, baby. You too. You know what’s been going on these days.”

“I do,” he says, quieter now, but not soft.

“And I get it. But my work got ruined. My effort. Not yours. And if I’d done it to you, at least I’d apologize. I wouldn’t try to win the argument.”

Then he pushes the door. It clicks shut between us.

“Fuck,” I mutter.

I go back to the kitchen. The milk’s still there.

I grab the flash drive and the AirPods, trying to dry them after removing the milk with a bit of water.

What am I even doing.

“Shit,” I whisper.

Did he actually tell me? Did I just miss it?

No way I ignored him. No fucking way.

But Antonio was screaming like a siren, and I was half-dead, trying to find his clothes and everything.

How the hell was I supposed to hear anything through that chaos?

I drop the flash drive on a towel, lean on the counter, head down.

Two hours later

The milk crime scene is gone, but the silence is still hanging.

We’re all at the kitchen table now.

Papers everywhere. Markers rolling off the edge. Antonio sitting on Rava’s lap, while his little feet are kicking against his knees.

I’m right next to them, trying to act normal.

He’s still not talking to me.

He props his chin on his palm and starts sketching.

Three stick figures.

Him tall, perfect hair, little square glasses.

Antonio cute, smiling, messy hair.

Me bald. No eyebrows. No mercy.

Antonio bursts out laughing. “Daddy got no hair!”

Rava fake gasps. “Oh no. Must’ve forgotten them. Can you fix it for me?”

Antonio leans forward, all serious with his tongue out, and starts scribbling on my head with a green marker.

Great. Now I look like a radioactive thumb.

I look at Rava, with my eyebrows pulled down, not saying a word.

His expression shifts, softens. He looks like he didn’t mean to actually hurt me. Not like that.

Antonio glances between us, clueless little peacekeeper. “Daddy, can we—can we color your tattoos again with Dada?”

Rava starts to say no, but I cut in fast. “Of course we can.”

Take my shirt off.

Antonio lights up.

I lift him onto the table, right in front of me. He grabs the purple marker.

Rava’s eyes trace my chest, slowly. He doesn’t say a word, just looks.

I could tease him right now, say something dirty, something cocky, but not yet.

Not when he still looks so sad.

“So,” I say, grinning at Antonio, “which one do you wanna color first?”

He points at my arm. “This one!”

Then turns to Rava. “You, Dada, this one!” He taps the tattoo on the side of my neck, the one with empty space waiting to be filled.

Rava finally smiles. “Whatever the boss says,” he says softly.

Antonio giggles. “I’m the boss!”

Rava moves closer, quiet.

Picks up a marker. Starts drawing too.

Now both of them are using me as their canvas.

Antonio’s perched on the table, concentrating hard. “You got so many tattoos, Daddy,” he says, with wide eyes.

I smile. “You like ’em?”

He nods fast. “Yeah! You made them?”

I shake my head. “Nah, Uncle Noah did most of them. Some of Dada’s too.”

He switches colors, grabs an orange this time.

We’re all quiet now. Just drawing me.

Then Antonio stops.

Looks up at Rava with that serious little face.

Rava blinks. “What’s wrong?”

“Dada… are you sick?”

“What?! Why would I be sick?”

Antonio frowns. “’Cause you don’t do, kiss kiss with Daddy when he talks. You did that when… when you were sick.”

Then with a smaller voice, “You don’t love him?”

Rava freezes. His eyes are wide open. Then he laughs softly, shaking his head.

“Baby, no. Don’t ever say that again.” He lifts Antonio’s chin.

“Of course I love Daddy. So much. Nothing could ever change that.” He glances at me, eyes soft now.

“Sometimes people just get… upset. They make small mistakes, and that makes them sad. But they never stop loving each other.”

Antonio looks at him.

Rava continues. “Like the day you dropped that vase and broke it on purpose ,” he adds gently. “Remember? We got mad, cause it was wrong, but neither me nor Daddy stopped loving you.”

Antonio nods slowly, playing with the marker cap. “When we make mistakes… we say sorry.”

“Exactly,” Rava says.

And now the room’s quiet again. All three of us looking at each other.

He really thought Rava didn’t kiss me because he was sick .

That’s the purest, dumbest, sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.

He’s seen us so in love, that in his little head, the only thing strong enough to keep us apart, is illness.

That’s how I know I won.

“Should we say sorry now?” Antonio asks suddenly.

I laugh. “Why you, huh? What did you do?”

He glances around, shrugs. “I don’t know.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Then you’re good, baby. You don’t need to say sorry.”

He nods proudly.

I turn to Rava. “But I do.”

My voice drops. “Dada told me to do something, and I didn’t. I forgot. Like when I told you to pick up your cars and you didn’t, and Blu chewed them.”

Antonio giggles hard.

“I should’ve listened better when Dada was talking,” I say.

Then I face Rava, exhale slow. “Sorry, Dada. I wasn’t paying enough attention. I didn’t mean to.”

Antonio’s watching us like it’s his favorite cartoon and the best part’s coming.

Rava’s lips tremble a little, but he smiles. “I’m sorry too,” he says quietly. “For snapping at you. I know you didn’t do it on purpose.”

I grin.

Antonio throws his hands up. “Kiss!”

I lean forward, catch Rava’s mouth in a soft kiss, barely there, whisper against his ear, “I’m sorry.”

He laughs, instantly.

The whole storm drains out of his face. Just warmth now.

Antonio giggles and goes back to drawing, humming something off-key.

Rava picks up a marker again, smiling to himself.

I watch him for a second. I press my lips to his forehead.

Antonio gasps. “Me too!”

We both lean in, me on one side, Rava on the other, and kiss his chubby little cheeks.

He squeals, laughing.

The house feels full again.

---

HEY okay i know this one was small, BUT LISTEN.

I’m posting again tomorrow, a beautiful chapter. Honestly one of my favorites.

AND rn I’m writing a chapter from Marco’s POV 😼😼😼

That’s all bye bye❤️

4) That’s What Dads Do

Rava’s POV

Outside is… chaos.

Rain is slamming on the glass violently, and lightning is tearing the sky open every few seconds.

It’s loud, and pretty scary.

Inside the cafe though, there’s warmth.

I’m tucked in a corner table with my laptop open, redoing the assignment that got absolutely baptized in milk a few days ago.

My fingers are cold but the cup between them is hot.

I’m drinking hot chocolate.

Antonio’s a few meters away, in the small indoor playground.

He’s there with two other kids, yelling about who’s the fastest down the slide.

Gio’s at a meeting today.

New client, something big, I think.

He deserves it.

It still stuns me how he took over his father’s company and turned it into something so strong, so… him.

Half of Italy’s insured by Gio Fontana at this point, either openly or through someone who swears they’re not.

Mr. Antonio Fontana would’ve been proud.

I’m sure of it.

I look up just as my own Antonio comes running out of the play area.

He runs straight to me. I close the laptop and open my arms. “Come here, silly bean.”

He crashes into me, and he starts laughing so hard he can’t breathe.

I wrap my arms around him, holding him close, and he’s… still laughing.

“What?” I ask, smiling. “Why are you laughing?”

He can’t even answer. Just wheezes out, “Bean!” like it’s the funniest word on earth.

“Wait—you’re laughing at bean ?”

He nods. His face is red.

And now he’s full-on giggling.

Everyone in the café turns to look.

It’s contagious. I start laughing too, even though I have no idea why.

That sound is my favorite thing in the world.

Second only to Gio’s laugh. They sound a little alike, actually.

I pull Antonio tighter, wrapping my coat around both of us until we’re one warm bundle.

“You’re our little bean,” I whisper against his hair. “Our sweet, tiny bean.”

“Why do you talk like he’s your kid?”

A very non-friendly voice. My heart jumps before my brain does.

I turn my head slowly.

Guy sitting alone at the table in front of us.

Instantly, I reach for my headphones. “Wanna hear the duck song again?” I ask Antonio softly.

He nods, all smiles.

Good.

You’ll hear it whether you want to or not, bean.

No way I’m letting this idiot poison your ears.

Then I look up. Straight at him. “Hi to you too, sir. Something wrong?”

“I’m Nicola,” he says, like I should care. “Your husband never mentioned me?”

Oh, shit.

That’s Nicola.

“Yeah, he mentioned you,” I say while scanning him up and down. “Pretty much as I expected. What’s the problem again?”

He nods toward Antonio. “That little bean of yours. He’s not yours. The face is obviously Giovanni’s. And I doubt you gave birth to him, so maybe stop lying to the kid.”

I instantly freeze.

The café’s warm, the mug is warm, Antonio’s in my arms is warm, but I feel so cold.

Like my blood just stepped outside into the storm.

Nicola keeps going. “You don’t share blood. You’re not his parent.”

I smile. “Mr. Nicola, you ever donated blood?”

He squints. “Of course. What’s your point.”

“Are you the father of those people now?” I ask, still smiling.

“If I gave you my blood right now, does that make me your dad? Cause we share the same blood?”

He stares at me. “That’s not the same.”

“Right. My bad.” I nod. “Hm. You got any pets?”

He sighs. “A dog. Make your point.”

“It’s mine,” I say.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Your dog is mine. You didn’t give birth to it. Neither did I. So what makes us different to that dog?”

He laughs. “That’s a dog, not a kid.”

“Doesn’t matter,” I say quietly.

“You take care of it. Feed it. Love it. Protect it. It loves you . Not me . That’s what makes you its dad.”

He opens his mouth again. “That thing next to you isn’t a dog.”

“Exactly,” I cut in.

“And you know what? You’re right. Gio gave the sperm. He did. But sperm doesn’t feed him. It doesn’t tuck him in or hold him when he’s scared.”

My voice drops. “ We do. Both of us. As much Gio’s son as mine.“

Nicola rolls his eyes.

I lean forward. “By your logic, every sperm donor and every rapist out there is a father. Good luck explaining that to a kid who was adopted, telling them that the man who wipes their tears, who cheers for them every time they win, isn’t their dad. That their ‘real’ dad is the one who just came inside a hole or a cup and then just left them.”

I take a slow sip of my drink. “Next time, dip your tongue in your brain before you speak.”

Nicola leans back in his chair. “Better be ready to protect him from the bullying he’s gonna get,” he says, smirking like he just said something clever.

I laugh. Then tilt my head, looking directly into his eyes.

“How does it feel,” I ask, “to be one of the people the rest of us have to protect our kids from?”

He doesn’t respond.

“See,” I keep going, “Gio and I work pretty damn hard. And you can be sure of one thing. This kid right here won’t care one fucking bit about what you, or anyone like you, thinks. He’ll grow up knowing love, safety, and truth. Not fear. Not shame. Not whatever sad thing you’re unfortunately made of.”

I stand up, start packing Antonio’s crayons and toy cars back into his bag. “And yeah, I’ll protect him from you. Because that’s what dads do.”

Nicola doesn’t move. Just stares, maybe realizing too late that he picked the wrong person to start with.

I sling the bag over my shoulder, push Antonio’s hair back from his face. He’s looking up at me.

He trusts me. That’s all that matters.

I turn back to Nicola one last time, give him a slow once-over. “Anyway,” I say, “you stay here. I guess that’s fitting.”

Then I smile. “Merry Christmas, Nicola. Come on, bean.”

I lift Antonio into my arms, his little hands clutching my coat.

We walk to the counter, pay, and step out into the cold.

Rain hits us like silver needles, and he buries his face in my neck.

Thunder rips through the sky like it’s tearing it open.

The flash comes first, and Antonio jumps so hard he almost drops his toy.

His little hands clutch my coat.

“Hey, hey,” I whisper, pulling him close as we duck under a shop’s awning.

I laugh softly, brushing his wet hair back. “Hey, bean! Remember what we said? When it flashes, we count, okay? If we reach five before the boom, that means the storm’s really, really far away.”

He nods fast, arms tight around my neck.

Another flash. “Ready?” I grin. “Let’s count.”

He sticks his little fingers out, lips moving as he counts with me. One… two… three… four… five…

Nothing.

I exhale, smile wide. “See? We’re safe. Nothing bad’s gonna happen.”

He relaxes just a bit, then whispers, “What if Blu’s scared? What if Daddy’s scared?”

My heart squeezes. I shift him higher on my hip, so he’s eye level with me.

“Blu’s probably curled up in his little bed with Lulu, remember? He’s not scared when she’s with him.”

I tap his nose. “And Daddy… hmm. Should we call him when we get home? Make sure he’s not scared?”

Antonio grins through his sniffles. “YES!”

Then he reaches up with those tiny hands and pushes my glasses back up my nose, carefully.

“I love you, Dada,” he says.

I smile, and I can feel my eyes burning a little. “I love you too, bean.”

And I mean it more than anything I’ve ever said.

Let Nicola and every Nicola rot in their own bitterness.

This kid, and the one waiting to meet us soon, are gonna grow up so surrounded by love they won’t even hear the hate.

We laugh together, loud enough to drown the rain.

The storm can rage all it wants… it’s got nothing on us.

---

Heh, I feel like a parent these days. I realized I know way more than I thought I did 💀

IM READY TO BECOME A PARENT (hell nah)

I’m not lying though, I’m sure a lot of you have felt this.

My dad left home when I was five, and since then he’s just felt like some random person I go out for coffee with every now and then.

Definitely not a dad 💀 He doesn’t even know where my uni was, or my school, or if I have a boyfriend, literally nothing.

So maybe sometimes in this story, you’ll see scenes that I, Disco, wished I had lived, or words I wished someone had said to me when I was little.

ANYWAY LMAO sorry for the lore.

I’m writing the Noah and Marco scene right now.

It’s turning out way hotter than I expected, I think.

I like writing small chapters but posting more often.

POSTING AGAIN TOMORROW BYE❤️

5) The Dream Of The Innocent

Marco’s POV

Noah’s halfway through tying his hoodie around his waist, and I’m trying to figure out if the leftover pasta’s still good when the door slams open and Gio barges in holding Antonio like he’s Simba.

“MACO! NOAH!” Antonio yells.

“MY BABY!” I yell back.

I’m gonna die. He’s already giggling before I even settle him on my hip.

Noah grabs his cheeks instantly like he’s squishing a stress ball.

“Why are your cheeks like this, huh? So soft. So EDIBLE. Can I eat you?”

Antonio squeals, “Noooo!” Laughing.

“Hmm… I’ll think about it,” Noah smirks.

Gio’s already pacing.

“Okay, listen up, dumb and dumber.”

“Shhh,” I mutter, pointing at Antonio’s wide eyes. “He hears everything now. Little dude’s a sponge.”

Gio checks the clock like he’s late for a drug deal.

“It’s seven. You’re gonna feed him these,” he tosses a bag at Noah’s chest, “and the good kind of feeding, not ‘oops-I-forgot-the-spoon’ feeding.”

Then Gio squints at us.

“And the diaper. Change it. Before bed. I don’t wanna come home to a rashy gremlin. You saw how Lorenzo did it. If he can do it, you two have no excuse.”

Noah holds up his inked hands. “Bro, relax. These hands are magical . I’m an artist.”

“Show it on the diaper, Picasso,” Gio mutters.

I chuckle and rub Antonio’s back.

“What time should we expect you guys?”

Gio exhales. Like, full dramatic sigh, eyes up to the ceiling.

“Midnight.”

“MIDNIGHT?!” Noah screeches. “Where the hell are you going, France?!”

Gio grins. “No, just out for a drink and then… Boombayah.”

Antonio perks up. “What’s Boombayah, daddy?”

Noah winks, crouching in front of him.

“It’s a secret game your daddies play. You’re too young. But one day, you’ll play too.”

“YAAAAY!”

Gio looks at Noah. “You’re disgusting.”

I laugh. “Your kid’s in safe hands, Gio. And by that, I mean mine .”

Gio’s already walking backward toward the door.

“Good. Have fun. Don’t let him eat paint.”

“Only the non-toxic kind,” Noah adds.

The door shuts.

The silence drops.

Antonio blinks at both of us.

Noah puts his hands on his hips.

“Okay. We’re parents now.”

Antonio’s staring up at us with those big-ass eyes like he’s judging us.

“You wanna dance?” he asks, outta nowhere.

I snort. “You know how to dance?”

“Yes.”

And then he just… starts.

Wiggling his arms like cooked spaghetti, legs going full earthquake, hips doing something illegal in seventeen states.

Noah’s face crumples. He chokes on a laugh, and turns to face the wall, like he’s putting himself to the punishment corner for making fun of Gio and Rava’s son.

He looks like he just watched his entire life flash before him.

Silent wheezing.

Turning red.

Absolutely failing at holding it in.

I jab him with my elbow, laughing. “Shame on you.”

Noah gasps for air, turns to Antonio like nothing happened.

“Tony. You are—INCREDIBLE. Like… you might be the best dancer I’ve ever seen, man.”

“Do it too!” Antonio demands.

Noah tries.

He fucking tries.

Copies the moves, if you can call them that, then just collapses on the carpet.

He’s wheezing so hard I think he might die.

I scoop up Antonio and plop him on the rug between my legs.

“Your uncle’s an idiot,” I tell him.

“Look. Look at this chaos.” I point at Noah, who’s still on the floor laughing like a maniac.

He sits up with red cheeks, wiping his eyes. “That was… spiritual.”

I kiss the top of Antonio’s head. “Alright. Before we feed you… What do you wanna do next?”

Antonio leans in close. I lower my head.

He whispers in my ear.

I gasp. “TATTOO STUDIO!!”

Noah sits up straight like a meerkat. “AGAIN?! You liked it that much?!”

Antonio throws both arms up. “YES!”

“Well shit,” he mutters. “Let’s go then.”

We get up.

Antonio’s now sitting behind a stool like a damn CEO.

Legs crossed. Chin up. He’s radiating “I own this building” energy.

I’m apparently his secretary. AGAIN.

Noah’s crawling on the floor like a feral customer.

“Good evening, handsome sir,” Noah says, crawling closer like a cat that wants attention.

Antonio points straight at me.

“Oh. You have a manager?” Noah says, dramatic gasp and all.

Antonio nods, full diva mode.

Noah turns to me. “Good evening, handsome sir. I’m here because I want a tattoo. I heard you have the best artist in the world here. In this tiny little shop.”

Antonio’s already giggling.

I nod, dead serious. “You heard right, sir. He’s extremely sought after. Fully booked. But since you’re clearly desperate, we’ll squeeze you in.”

Noah bows. “Thank you, thank you. Excellent customer service.”

Antonio stands, waves an imaginary clipboard. “This way, uncle!”

Noah freezes. “Uncle?! Excuse me, I’m a paying customer, not family. I don’t do nepotism.”

Antonio grabs his hand and drags him to the floor.

“Oh. Excellent service, sir. Minimal furniture. Love the ‘we couldn’t afford chairs’ vibe. Keeps us humble.”

Antonio nods proudly.

Then he whips out his weapons, a handful of dried markers.

Noah gasps. “These are your tools?! Wow. Professional setup. Wait—didn’t you have that one in your mouth two minutes ago?”

“No,” Antonio says calmly.

“Okay. My bad, king. My eyesight’s been acting up lately.”

Antonio grabs a plastic cup, pours water all over Noah’s arm.

Noah jumps. “WHAT was that?”

“I cleaned it,” Antonio says proudly.

“Perfect. Five-star hygiene standards.”

Then Antonio stands up. No explanation. Walks to the corner. Squats.

I blink. Turn to Noah. “Uh, sir? The artist’s… taking a bathroom break. Nature calls.”

Noah deadpans. “Is that included in the total price?”

I flip through invisible papers. “I’m afraid so.”

Noah sighs. “Fine. As long as it’s not itemized.”

Antonio yells from the corner, “I HEAR YOU, UNCLE!”

Noah cups his hands around his mouth. “LOVE YOU, KING. TAKE YOUR TIME.”

Antonio strolls back in, then he grabs a marker like he’s about to perform open-heart surgery.

Noah’s still sitting cross-legged on the carpet.

Antonio pushes him flat on the ground.

“Alright, king,” he says, rolling up his sleeve. “Let’s make history.”

Antonio sniffs, leans over the arm, and sneezes in the cutest way right on Noah’s forearm.

Noah freezes. Blinks.

“Okay. You just sneezed on my arm. That’s fine. We move on. Bless you, king.”

“Thank you,” Antonio says.

I bite my lip trying not to lose it.

He immediately starts scribbling like nothing happened.

I crouch next to them. “What’s the design, artist?”

Antonio squints, tongue out. “You.”

I blink. “Me?!”

Noah looks at his arm, then at me.

“He’s tattooing his secretary on me? That’s… new. Not weird at all. Totally fine.”

I smirk. “You’re lucky, sir. Usually he charges double for realism.”

Antonio keeps drawing, humming.

Noah side-eyes him. “You must really like your secretary if you’re out here tattooing his face on random customers.”

Antonio shrugs. “He’s nice.”

“Right,” Noah says, trying not to laugh. “Does he at least get benefits? Paid vacation? Dental?”

Antonio pauses. “What’s that?”

Noah grins. “Perfect. I love the professionalism. Just raw talent, zero paperwork.”

Noah holds back a laugh. “Tony, can I have your secretary’s number? Since I already have his face on my forearm.”

“No. My uncle will KIIL you!”

“Oh wow, okay. Damn. Sorry, king.”

Antonio sneezes again—this time on the markers.

Continues drawing.

“Okay, cool,” Noah mutters, laughing.

“No gloves, no sterilization, we’re freestyling. Love that for us. My immune system’s doing squats right now.”

I glance at the artwork forming. “That’s… that’s a big head, man. My head’s not that big.”

Antonio tilts his head, offended. “Is.”

Noah gasps, then bursts out laughing. “Sir, that’s brutal honesty. Respect. You’ve got vision.”

Antonio finishes with a dramatic flourish. “Done.”

He holds up Noah’s arm like a trophy.

Noah stares. “Wow. It’s… something. Looks like Marco if he got electrocuted halfway through smiling.”

I nod. “Yep. That’s basically me on a Monday.”

Antonio beams. “You like it?”

Noah pats his head. “I love it, king. Raw, expressive, possibly contagious, but art.”

Half an hour later

Now we’re in the kitchen, Antonio is chewing on apple slices.

I hand him another piece and grin. “Look at you, huh? Daddy and Dada take such good care of you. They even cut your little carrots for you. I bet that was Dada.”

He gasps. “I love my daddies, so much. They’re mine .”

Noah laughs so hard he almost chokes on the piece of carrot that he stole from Antonio. “Yup. They’re all yours, bean. One hundred percent.”

I nudge him with my shoulder. “Alright, boss. Teeth time. Then we’ll see some old photos of Daddy and Dada, deal?”

“Yessss!” he squeals, jumping off the chair.

I’m now helping Antonio brush his teeth while Noah’s behind me, stroking my waist.

“Impatient,” I mutter under my breath, elbowing him lightly.

He smirks. “Can’t help it. You look too domestic.”

A few minutes later we’re all piled into the big bed, clean and very much warm.

Antonio’s wedged between us.

“Who’d have thought,” Noah says, stretching out, “we’d be in bed by 8:30pm? We’re officially old.”

“Speak for yourself,” I mumble, adjusting the blanket. “I’m getting up later.”

Antonio yawns loud enough to make us both laugh.

“Alright, little artist,” Noah says, grabbing his phone. “A few pictures, then we sleep, okay?”

Antonio nods eagerly.

Noah scrolls all the way up, finds the wedding photos.

“Oh, I’m gonna cry,” he says, swiping through.

“Look—your Daddy and Dada. That’s right, I married them. You’re basically a product of my magic.”

Antonio giggles, looking at the screen.

“Here,” Noah says, “your Daddy dancing with Uncle Jin. Adorable if you’re asking me. And this one, your Dada eating like the world’s ending.”

Antonio laughs.

After a while, he just melts between us.

“You getting sleepy?” I whisper.

“Mmm. Goodnight, Maco. Goodnight, Noah. Goodnight, Dada. Goodnight, Daddy. Goodnight, Lulu. Goodnight, Blu. Goodnight, Lolezo.”

Noah bursts out laughing, totally caught off guard. “Wait—you do this every night, Antonio?”

He looks at him like he just said something offensive. “You don’t?!”

Then turns back toward the ceiling and keeps going, dead serious. “Goodnight, Daisy. Goodnight, Jin…”

He lists everyone. Grandmas, even… grandpa Antonio.

My chest hurts from how cute it is.

“Goodnight, baby,” I whisper, tucking the blanket up to his chin.

He hums something sleepy in response.

Noah starts playing games on my phone.

We wait. Half an hour. Maybe more. Antonio’s knocked out. That soft baby snore is music to my ears. That’s our green light.

I move slowly, barely make the mattress creak, crawl over Noah like I’m sneaking into enemy territory.

My thigh slips over his hips, and I let my weight sink right down onto him.

His hands find my waist instantly with zero hesitation. Just sliding down and back again.

Then lower. And lower. He literally squeezes my ass.

I lift my head. He blinks up at me. “Oops,” he says, grinning, and kisses my cheek.

I drop back down on him and exhale right into his neck.

He smells so nice I could cry.

His hand’s still down there. Jesus fucking Christ.

I shift, pretending this is still casual, still innocent, still two tired, temporary dads cuddling.

But he arches his hips up into mine and lets out this soft breath.

That noise. That noise will KILL my ass.

“Hey,” Noah whispers.

“What.”

I already know. But I make him say it.

He brushes my hair back with his fingers.

“Well… Antonio’s asleep…”

His thigh presses up against me.

“You’re hard… I’m hard…”

I stare at the ceiling.

No.

I’m a respectable man.

I wear button-downs.

I have a briefcase.

I’m a fucking lawyer.

We’re co-parenting a literal toddler.

… But also.

I’m just a man.

With a sex drive.

And a hot tattoo artist under me begging for it.

Hhhhm.

People have sex.

Parents have sex.

Parents need sex.

That’s… science.

I smile.

Kiss him deep. Slide my palm up to his neck while our mouths work like we haven’t kissed in weeks.

Noah giggles.

I grab the blanket and pull it up over both of us. “Just for one minute and then we leave, okay? Pull my hair if he wakes up,” I whisper in his ear.

Then I disappear under the covers. My hand finds his waistband by muscle memory.

I drag his pants down just enough.

I can’t see shit. But I don’t need to.

I know his body more than I know mine, at this point.

My hand wraps around his dick.

I lick my lips.

And then I go down on him, ready to eat his soul.

I move slowly, trying not to make a sound.

My throat literally protests.

He’s too big to be polite about it, but to be honest, I don’t care. I want it badly.

I’ve been starving all day and this is dinner.

His fingers thread into my hair but they don’t pull.

He’s just palming the back of my head like saying ‘please, don’t stop’.

I don’t. What am I, stupid?

I pull off a bit, stroke him with my hand and kiss the head of his dick, then drop a kiss to his thigh. He twitches.

“Fucking hell,” he breathes.

I don’t reply.

I spit a little, let it run down, then suck it back up.

Try to swallow more this time. Try to not gag. I fail. But I keep going.

My head goes up and down.

I breathe through my nose and he pets me like a good fucking dog.

I fucking love his dick.

It’s just hot. Like objectively.

Sometimes I don’t even go down on him proper. I just look at it. Talk to it. Call it good boy. Tell it it’s mine.

It is mine.

He tastes so good and he feels even better.

Don’t talk to me. I’d write poems about this dick if I wasn’t so busy swallowing it.

My hands are locked around his thighs to hold him steady, and I’m moaning low in my throat like that’s gonna help me take it deeper.

I can’t lie, it… kind of does.

Then he tugs my hair.

I freeze.

My head shoots up from under the blanket.

“Shit—shit, sorry. False alarm. I didn’t mean to. You’re just good.”

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, smirk creeping in. “Yeah. I know.”

He looks dazed. Fucked out and still fully clothed. I shove the blanket off and stand.

“Come on,” I say. “Couch. Now.”

He obeys instantly, like we’re in court and I just gave him a ruling.

“You’re so fucking hot when you’re this horny,” he whispers while laughing.

I glance back over my shoulder while pushing him onto the couch. “I’m always like this.”

“Horny lawyer. You’re my dream.”

I crawl into his lap with my knees on either side of him, and my hands on his shoulders.

“Yeah? Well, I’m the dream of the innocent.”

Then I grab his chin and make him look me in the eye.

“And the worst nightmare of the guilty.”

His mouth falls open. Stays there.

“I’m very guilty,” he says. “Like… horrifyingly guilty. I have so many dirty thoughts about you I think it’s actually criminal.”

I push him back. “Then I guess we’ll have to settle this in court.”

He smiles. “What’s the sentence?”

I grin against his mouth.

“Life,” I whisper. “No parole.”

He whispers to my ear. “Go close the door.”

Oh boy, you do not have to tell me twice.

The second I close the bedroom’s door, I’m already rolling my neck like I’m getting into a bar fight.

I walk back slowly. Smiling.

“You look like you just won the case of the century,” he says, sprawled on the couch.

I shrug. “Maybe I did.”

“Was I the defendant?”

I climb over him, pinning him down with my thighs. “You were guilty as hell.”

He laughs through his nose. “Oh. Guilty of what?”

I dip in close, mouth by his ear. “Premeditated filth. Repeated offenses. Lewd intent.”

“You forgot ‘assault with a deadly weapon,’” he murmurs while kissing my neck.

I bite his jaw for that one. “Nah, that’s me.”

His hands are under my shirt now.

“You’re hot when you talk legal, Marco.”

“You’re hot 24/7.”

He grins like that turned him on more than anything.

Grabs my ass once. Squeezes. “Your Honor, this man’s trying to kill me.”

“Good.” I grab his jaw, turn his face up to mine. “Then die slow—”

His tongue’s already in my mouth before I finish the sentence.

I grind down. He’s rock solid.

He reaches for the drawer, pulling out the lube and tossing it on the couch.

I push his shirt up and he bites down on my collarbone.

“You’re probably gonna have bruises by the time I’m done,” he whispers.

“Cross-examine me, daddy.”

He gasps. “Did you just—”

“Yeah,” I grin. “And you liked it. You just twitched.”

I shove him back down and kiss him hard. He laughs into it.

My pants are gone now, and he throws the blanket over my waist to cover me.

Just in case.

He moans.

“Keep it down,” I whisper.

“Can’t help it,” he breathes. “You’ve got me cuffed without cuffs.”

He’s got two slicked fingers in me now.

For one full fucking minute.

“That’s enough,” I say.

I slide down, grab his dick in my hand and line myself up.

God, I could talk about this dick for hours .

I could write a thesis on how much I adore it.

But instead, I’ll just sit on it. And show him.

His smirk twitches. “Marco—”

Nope.

I cover his mouth with my palm, lock eyes with him, and sit down on his dick.

Slow.

All the way.

He twitches, moans into my hand, and his head falls back.

“Fuck,” he chokes. “You’re tight.”

“No shit,” I snap. “What’d you think, this was community property?”

He’s gripping my hips now, but I’m riding at my pace.

“You like that?” I ask.

He nods, already losing it.

I slap his chest. “Say it.”

“Yeah, fuck, Marco, I love it—”

“You better.”

His dick’s buried so deep I feel it in my goddamn ribs.

I’m literally sitting on him. Both my palms are on his shoulders.

I’m riding him slowly, like I got all night.

“Be quiet,” I whisper against his jaw, barely holding in a moan myself.

Noah’s eyes roll back a bit. “I’m fucking trying.”

I smirk.

Liar.

I grip his shoulders harder and move up, down, forward, back.

“We’re so bad for this,” he whispers, guilty.

“You want me to stop then?” I ask innocently, while my hips are still grinding in lazy little circles.

“No—please, no,” he chokes out, and that’s all I need.

I grin like I just won the damn lottery.

God, I love riding this dick. It’s like a reward after a really long day.

And the fact I gotta stay quiet makes me even fucking hornier.

He grabs my ass with both hands and moves it up and down exactly how he wants it.

“You close?” I whisper.

He nods fast, mouth half-open like he’s begging me with his whole fucking face.

I bite his lower lip.

Both his hands fly up to my hair, tugging, and making a mess of me.

I’m coming. Fuck.

“We finishing together?” I choke out while I’m holding on for dear life.

“You already know,” he breathes, and crashes his lips on mine just as I break.

My whole body jerks. I spill all over him. I fucking see stars.

How is this even LEGAL.

Thick ropes of my cum are hitting his abs, painting his tattoos in white.

I’m literally gasping like i’ve just had an exorcism and liked it.

I slam my palm over my mouth to muffle the scream.

His hands dig into my hips, his head buries in my neck as he finishes inside me.

Deep.

His hips jerk up into mine, stuffing me.

The bastard is fucking smiling while I’m still convulsing around him.

I kiss him hard, and when we break, I fall on his chest, absolutely wrecked.

“Oh my god,” I wheeze. “We’re insane.”

“We’re perfect,” he says. “So fucking worth it.”

“mhm,” I hum. “Smooth as hell.”

I start laughing. I can’t stop laughing. I think I love him so much it’s actually making me sick.

We’re both showered, happy, and exhausted.

Now we’re lying on the floor, literally, on the damn floor, just staring at the ceiling.

Noah’s got his hands behind his head.

I’ve got mine resting on my stomach.

The house is quiet.

He turns his head toward me. I catch him staring.

I laugh. “What?”

He shrugs. “Nothing. You’re pretty.”

I snort. “Okay. You’re just soft now ’cause your balls are empty.”

He gasps, dramatic. “ Excuse you . I’m always soft with you, bitch. Look at me. I’m literally your best friend, your partner AND your biggest fan.“

I grin. “I know. That’s true. But you can’t say I’m not yours too. Well, I don’t get to be covered in tattoos like you, cause of work, but everything people don’t see is full of your ink. Because I love your work.”

He smiles proudly.

Then his phone buzzes.

He picks it up, squints at the screen. “Our matchmakers. Guess the parents are here to collect their spawn.”

He laughs and pushes himself off the floor.

I get up, head to the door, open it.

Aw, there’s Rava. Looking like he… survived a war.

Behind him, Gio. Glowing like he started one.

“What happened?” I ask.

Rava exhales. “Nothing. Everything’s perfect.” He walks past me, and Gio laughs.

He looks proud as hell.

He leans in and whispers, “We finally had sex. He came in two minutes and he’s pissed cause he wanted more.”

I slap a hand over my mouth, laughing. “I get it. Sometimes, you go to war and lose. Just means the dick was good.”

Gio grins. “I know. That’s why I’m smiling.”

We walk into the bedroom where Antonio’s asleep.

Gio bends down, scoops him up slowly. “Come here, little bean,” he whispers.

Meanwhile, Rava and Noah are in the kitchen, packing up Antonio’s tiny backpack and leftover toys.

“How was he?” Gio asks.

I shrug. “Don’t even start. We played tattoo shop again. I’ll send you the video.”

He laughs. “Perfect. Oh—by the way, think Valentina’s free tomorrow? We wanna stop by her place.”

“Oh my God, yes,” I say instantly. “We were thinking the same. Afternoon?”

“Yeah,” Gio says, already smiling. “I can’t stand being away anymore. I just wanna be close.”

I grin at him. “I know. I can’t wait either. I’m so damn happy for you guys.”

I pretend to fan my face. “I’m gonna cry.”

We’re all standing by the door now. Rain’s tapping against the windows softly.

“Thank you so much, really,” Rava says.

“Please,” Noah grins, leaning on the doorframe, “bring him over again soon.”

Rava narrows his eyes. “Only if you promise not to tattoo him again.”

Noah puts a hand to his chest. “I swear. On Marco’s life.”

“Fucker,” I mutter, smacking his arm.

He laughs, all teeth. “Don’t worry, I’m serious this time.”

“Yeah, sure you are.” I shake my head, trying not to smile.

Then glance at Gio and Rava.

“See you tomorrow, guys,” I say, waving as they step out. “Goodnight, Fontana family,” Noah whispers happily.

Door clicks shut.

---

WATTPAD WANTS A CONTRACT WITH RIDE OR DIE YALL !!!!

But I won’t do it cause I don’t want wattpad to own my rights 💔

mueheheh.

THATS ALL BYE BYE I LOVE YOU❤️

6) Watch and Learn

Rava’s POV

Gio’s in front of the mirror again. “How do I look?” he asks while he’s fixing his hair.

I can’t help but laugh. “Gio, our daughter isn’t gonna see you right now. You know that, right?”

He glances at me through the mirror, smirking. “Doesn’t matter. She needs to feel the vibe. Needs to know she’s got hot parents.”

Of course he says that. Of course he means it.

I’m half on the floor, trying to shove tiny sneakers onto Antonio’s feet.

He keeps messing with my hair.

Gio tells him to stay still.

We’ve both been low-key terrified about how this whole thing’s gonna go, having two kids, balancing everything.

Daisy used to cry all the time when I was born because she said mom loved me more, and that thought still sits heavy.

I don’t ever want Antonio to feel like that.

So Gio and I made a deal.

No closed doors when we’re with the baby.

No “wait outside, big boy.”

No gifts that scream you’re the favorite.

If one gets a toy, the other gets something too.

Always .

“Antonio,” I say, as he digs through his box of cars, “you can’t take all of them. Only two, okay?”

He looks up with wide eyes, like I just asked him to pick a favorite planet.

Then he bends down, practically diving head-first into the box.

He pops back out, holding the red one, obviously Gio’s, and another new one Lorenzo and Noah brought last week.

“Good choices,” I tell him.

Gio lifts him up with one arm like he weighs nothing. “Let’s go get Uncle Noah and Uncle Maco.”

Antonio’s whole face lights up. “YESSSS!”

They high-five.

We wave bye to Lulu and Blu, Gio double-checks the door’s locked.

Gio walks past the Ferrari, past the ducati.

…

Every time I see that damn bike, I get flashbacks.

My ears burn.

“Alright, bean,” he says, holding him higher. “You pick. Which ride are we taking?”

Antonio giggles, points straight at the black Lamborghini.

Gio grins, looking proud as hell. “This kid’s growing up right.”

I laugh as we all pile in.

Thirty minutes later

We’re all standing outside Valentina’s door.

Gio, me, Marco, and Noah, Antonio half asleep in Gio’s arms.

We look like a gang.

Lorenzo and Daisy are out playing pool with his dad, so it’s just us.

Valentina opens the door and… Jesus Christ.

Marco lets out this tiny choking laugh, and Noah immediately slaps a hand over his mouth.

She’s wearing this fluffy unicorn robe, her curls are everywhere.

She looks like a live-action Disney princess that’s had… a really long day.

“Hi, guys,” she says, with a soft but a little broken voice. “Come in.”

We step inside.

Wow. The house is spotless, warm, and smells like vanilla.

That’s so Valentina. Gio’s been sneaking over to help her clean while I’m at school.

Says he doesn’t want her getting tired.

It melts me.

The way he takes care of everyone he cares about.

Noah drops onto the couch like it’s his own couch.

“Hey girl,” he says. “Why the long face?”

Valentina points at the table. Then her eyes water.

And just like that, she’s crying.

All five of us freeze.

Even Antonio’s looking at her with wide eyes like uh oh.

Marco sighs. “Don’t panic, guys. She’s been like that since forever. Basically a twenty-five-year-old baby.”

Valentina sniffles. “I was just… trying to wax my legs…”

Oh boy.

“And it all went wrong,” she continues with a broken voice.

“It’s my first time, and I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve got wax in my hair, guys. Purple wax.”

Gio pulls out his phone.

“I have notes for every situation,” he says, scrolling. “But not for this. The baby’s doomed.”

A paper ball hits him straight in the head. Noah.

“She said her legs, dumbass. Not her uterus. The baby’s fine.”

I walk over, wrapping an arm around Valentina.

“Hey,” I murmur, brushing her hair back. “I can help!”

Noah leans forward, dead serious. “Valentina, hide. Don’t let him.”

“I mean it,” I say. “I used to do it for Daisy all the time cause she couldn’t pull the strip off herself. It’s easy.”

Valentina looks at me, then lets out a teary laugh. “You’re such a pure soul, Rava.”

And she just buries her face in my shoulder, laughing and crying at the same time.

10 minutes later

I’ve got my sleeves rolled up, legs crossed, and Valentina’s feet are resting on my thighs.

This feels like a spa treatment.

There’s wax strips and tissues all over the damn table.

Gio’s on the floor with Antonio, driving toy cars across the carpet.

Noah and Marco are cuddling on the couch. Marco’s face is squished against Noah’s chest.

“How did you even think of that?” Marco mumbles.

Valentina lifts her chin. “I wanna go out tomorrow. With my coworkers. And I got this perfect new burgundy dress. It hits the knee, and I’m not about to look like I gave up on life because I’m pregnant. I have to be a doll.”

Noah bursts out laughing. “You sound exactly like your brother. Love that for you, girl. We’ll still love you though even if you turn into a hairy gorilla.”

A pillow flies across the room and hits him square in the face.

I grin. “Alright, you ready?”

She nods. “Hit me with it, Rava. I’m a strong woman.”

I press the strip on, smooth it down. “Okay, deep breath.”

And rip .

She screams into her palms, then starts laughing through it.

Antonio turns his head, panicked.

“It’s okay, bean,” Gio says, ruffling his hair. “They’re not doing anything bad.”

I can’t help but laugh. Marco’s cheering from the couch. “You got this, girl! Think about that dress!”

Valentina nods through tears. “Let’s go again, Rava. Do it.”

So I do. Strip after strip. Each time she yelps, then laughs harder.

By the end, she’s red-faced. She wipes her forehead dramatically, looks down at her legs.

“Okay?!?!” she yells, rubbing her shins.

“Rava, this is amazing . You’re a saint. I owe you big time.”

I smirk, stretching my back. “Give me my kid and we’re even.”

I start laughing at my own joke.

“Wow. Congrats, Rava. First good joke of your life,” Noah says.

Gio spins around like he’s about to throw hands. “Hey! My husband is always funny. Watch your mouth.”

Antonio instantly mimics him. “Watch your mouth!!”

Gio gasps, his eyes go wide with fake pride. “That’s my boy. Best impression of me ever.” He kisses Antonio’s head.

“I’m joking. I love your husband,” he says, dragging himself off the couch.

He comes over to us, squats in front of Valentina’s legs and stares at them.

“Damn. This is insane. It’s like there was never a single hair here. Did it really hurt that bad?!”

Valentina hands him a wax strip. “Here. Try it.”

I shake my head. “Yeah, right. He’s gonna scream like a dying goat.”

Noah scoffs, full offense taken. “Um, excuse you. I’ve got, how many tattoos?! You think a lil’ wax strip’s gonna end me? Babe, start the engines. Valentina, scoot.”

She slides off and flops next to Marco, who pulls her into his side.

Noah lies down dramatically in front of me. “Alright. Let the peasants watch and learn.”

I eye his legs. “So… you’re just gonna walk around with one bald spot and call it fashion?”

“Yeah. Who cares. It’s winter. No one’s seeing shit.”

Internally, I’m already laughing.

This man is about to die .

I heat the wax, smooth it on his shin with care, but I’m shaking from holding in the laughter.

I press the strip down. Rub it.

“Gio,” I say, deadpan. “Cover Antonio’s ears.”

Gio throws a look over his shoulder. “Bean, come here.”

He claps his hands over Antonio’s little ears as Antonio giggles.

“It’s fine,” Noah says. “I swear it’s not that b—YAAA FOTTITI BASTARDO SANTO,”

Noah’s scream shatters every window on this street.

I’m gone. Tears in my eyes.

Gio falls sideways, laughing. “Thank god you didn’t overreact.”

Valentina’s holding her stomach. “Imagine if he had to give birth.”

Noah is hugging his leg like I just hacked it off.

Then he leans his whole body into my side, head in my shoulder. “Why would you do this to me, Rava,” he fake cries. “I thought we were best friends.”

I ruffle his hair. “I know. I’m sorry. It was a mistake. A tragic miscalculation.”

I’m still laughing. I can’t stop.

Noah sits up, pokes at the smooth part of his leg. “Damn. …It’s kinda soft though.”

He squints. “Would this make my legs look more defined? Show off the muscles?”

“Technically?” I say, wiping my hands. “Yeah. Probably.”

He nods slowly, serious.

Gio and Marco are staring.

“What?” Noah says. “I’m just asking. Out of curiosity.”

Marco smirks. “Just say you liked it and want more.”

“No!” Noah snaps. “That’s not—okay I don’t know.”

I don’t wait. More wax.

“AY— I didn’t say I wanted it!”

“Your eyes did,” I say, grinning. “They were sparkling. Adorable. You owe me a free tattoo after this, by the way.”

Noah groans but high-fives me. “Deal.”

Valentina stands up. “Alright, we’ve got potential here. I’m bringing fruit bowls. We’re putting on a movie.”

Gio’s up before she even finishes the sentence. “I’m coming with you, don’t carry anything, okay?”

Valentina spins. “Bro, I’m pregnant. Not brain damaged. I’m fine, I swear.” She’s laughing, already in the kitchen.

“Okay. Okay,” Gio says, hands up.

“I won’t argue. You might cry, and crying women scare me.”

Marco snorts. “Same. Try working in a law firm full of them. Nightmare.”

I rip the next strip.

“YOU BITCH,” Noah screams again, flailing like I just exorcised a demon out of him.

I’m crying from laughing so hard. Literally wiping tears from my face.

We manage to sit down for the movie. Lights off, snacks out.

Gio is curled up next to me with Antonio sprawled half over his chest.

It’s kinda perfect, except for the fact that Noah is losing his mind every five minutes.

He’s biting his knuckle, trying to stifle a scream as he checks his leg again.

“You son of a bitch,” he hisses at me. “This is sick . LOOK AT THOSE MUSCLES, BABY.”

Gio doesn’t even look up. “Shut up. You’re being dramatic. And do it faster. I want my man back.”

Noah throws his hands up. “Thank me for telling him to kiss you.”

Gio groans. “Dude. That was years ago. Enough. HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO SAY THANK YOU.”

Noah grins. “Until you die. Say it again.”

Gio sighs. “Thank you, Noah.”

“Good boy,” Noah says, and that’s when I yank the next strip off his leg with more force.

“AY! That one had hatred in it!”

I nod, totally serious. “Gio is mine.”

And then Antonio twists around. “Daddy is mine!”

Everyone starts cracking up.

Gio scoops him up immediately and falls back on the cushions with him in his arms.

“Baby, I’m yours. And Dada’s, okay? I love both of you so much.”

Antonio nods, satisfied. Melts into Gio like a little koala.

Valentina’s crying again.

“I’m sorry,” she says, wiping her eyes. “It’s the hormones. That was just… so sweet.”

Marco wraps an arm around her. “Don’t worry. Your time will come. Just hang in there.”

She nods, snuggles into his side.

We all turn back to the movie. For about thirty seconds.

Then Noah screams again.

And again. And again. Every goddamn minute.

We’re not even watching anymore, we’re just bracing for the next yell.

---

HELLOOO sorry for the delay in uploading!!!

I’ve been spending a lot of time preparing the paperback and working on the covers because I’m impatient :)

Paperback is gonna be LIT. I swear it only gets better

THATS ALL BYE BYE I LOVE YOU❤️

7) Why?

Prepare to cry. This is one of my best chapters.

Gio’s POV

The place is a damn circus. Pink balloons everywhere. Kid–sized chaos.

Antonio’s little playground friend is turning four today, so here we are, in a space full of tiny humans and exhausted parents.

Antonio’s inside the play area.

He is dead in the center, surrounded by a whole army of toddlers, bossing them around.

They’re talking to him, they are following him, showing him toys, asking him stuff.

And I don’t regret shit.

I taught him never to sit alone in the corner acting like he’s lesser than anyone.

Taught him to stand tall, even if he’s two and a half and wearing dinosaur socks.

But I also taught him this: If you see a kid in that corner, you go first. You bring them in. You make them feel like they belong.

And he does it. I can see it. He’s growing right.

Rava’s a huge part of that too.

Speaking of Rava… God help me, he’s priceless right now.

He’s sitting at our table, filming the documentary of Antonio’s life.

He keeps giggling, covering his mouth, hitting record again and again.

His camera roll is probably at full storage and screaming for mercy.

He’s adorable.

Earlier he was sitting with a group of moms, explaining with full passion, how to make the perfect fruit purée.

Like actually begging them.

“Please trust me, it’s so easy, it’s so good, I swear he eats the whole bowl every time—no, no, don’t add that, it ruins it, listen to me, ladies, I’m serious.”

It was hilarious. They were staring at him like he was some childcare guru.

Now we’re eating what’s left of the aggressively pink birthday cake.

It tastes like pure sugar mixed with… more sugar.

We’re wearing birthday hats. Paper ones. Mine has a unicorn on it. I’m not taking it off.

That’s life now.

Once upon a random Tuesday, I was running from cops, always dealing with something ugly.

Now same random Tuesday… I’m in a kid party. Pink cake. Birthday hats.

My son being the charismatic little chaos machine he is.

My husband filming every second of it.

My family.

Nobody treats us weird here. Not one dirty look. Not one whisper. No one’s staring at me and Rava like, ugh, here come the freaks raising a kid without a mother.

Nothing like that. They just see us as two more parents at a kid’s birthday party.

As they fucking should.

Actually, let someone try to make it a problem. I’m begging for it.

I’ve got zero fear when it comes to my family. Zero.

I take another bite of cake and hold the fork out to Rava so he can taste it.

A chunk falls straight onto his black turtleneck. He looks at me with this devastated little face.

I laugh and pull him into me. “Sorry, baby. I was trying to be sweet!”

He raises an eyebrow. “If we weren’t surrounded by people, I’d make you lick it clean.” He smirks. “You’re lucky.”

Antonio runs back to the table out of nowhere, sweaty as hell.

His chest goes up and down like he just ran a marathon.

Poor kid looks like he’s been fighting for his life in that playhouse.

He squeezes between us, trying to catch his breath.

“Come here, bean,” Rava says, already helping him hold a water cup.

Antonio chugs half of it in one go. The cup fogs up instantly.

We’re both laughing because he looks like a tiny athlete after a match interview.

“Having fun?” Rava asks, with an excited voice.

Antonio nods hard, still gulping air.

“We’re leaving soon, it’s getting late, okay? Start saying bye to your friends,” I tell him.

“Okay, daddy,” he says and then he’s gone again.

We say bye to every parent at the party, and somehow Rava manages to schedule us for another kid birthday next week.

My man is too friendly.

I love him, but Jesus Christ, we’re gonna spend our whole lives surrounded by cake and balloons.

Now we’re in the car. Total silence.

Antonio isn’t singing his silly songs… He isn’t humming… He isn’t tapping his little shoes on the seat…

Rava tried to start one, but Antonio didn’t follow.

He looks genuinely sad. Like something punched straight into his tiny heart.

My pulse picks up.

Did we do something wrong? Did someone hurt him? Did he fall and I didn’t see it?!

I have no idea.

We get home.

Shoes off. Jackets off.

Rava notices Antonio’s sadness immediately.

He kisses my cheek. “Go take him for a bath. I’ll cook. If you need anything, I’ll come and help, okay?”

I pull him closer for a second. “You’re the best, Ravioli.”

He blushes a little.

I go.

Now I’m sitting by the bathtub with Antonio in front of me.

I’m washing him gently, watching the way he won’t look at me.

Time to find out what the hell happened…

“Hey,” I say, lifting his chin with my fingers.

“What’s going on? Why the sad face? I thought you had fun today.”

I’m already scared of the answer. I hate that I’m scared, but I am.

“Antonio,” I try again, “did someone bother you?”

He nods.

Oh God. I swear I feel heat in my palms.

I’m about to get mad at a four-year-old. This is where we are in life.

“What did they say, baby?” I ask, keeping my voice calm even though I feel like exploding.

He wipes soap from his cheek.

“Rio… he asked… how big my grandma and my grandpa are.”

I blink. Okay. That sounds… harmless?

“Do you mean he asked how old they are?”

Antonio nods. “Yes.”

“Okay,” I say slowly. “And what did you tell him?”

Antonio’s lip trembles. He looks away. “I said… I don’t know where my grandpa is.”

The sadness hits him all over again. My stomach drops.

“And what did he say, sweetheart?”

Antonio swallows hard. “He said… that he is… not here anymore. And… and… he said… you and dada are keeping secrets from me.”

I shut my eyes. For one long second.

Jesus fucking Christ, Rio.

With all due respect, I hope Santa brings you nothing but ugly socks this year.

“Rio was older than you?” I ask, washing the soap off his shoulders.

Antonio nods. “Yeah. He big. He know everything. Like dada.”

I want to punch a wall. Or cry. Or both.

Not like this, man…

Not from another kid. Not as his first time hearing something so heavy.

I take a deep breath, scoop warm water, pour it gently over his back.

Trying to cool down my own anger before I speak, because right now I’d fight a toddler for him.

And win proudly.

Because now I have to explain death to my son without breaking him.

Or myself.

“Antonio,” I whisper, brushing the water from his eyelashes. “Look at daddy for a second.”

His eyes lift. They’re shiny. God, that kills me.

“Listen… what you heard today, it’s hard stuff. Even for big people. Even for me.”

I touch his cheek with my knuckle.

“But you didn’t do anything wrong, baby. You didn’t say anything wrong. And we didn’t keep secrets because you’re a kid. Me and dada just wanted you to have a little more time! A little more childhood before learning about things that hurt.”

He looks sad. But I have to do this.

“Your grandpa… he’s not here with us. Not in the kitchen, not in the living room. But he’s here in all the ways that matter.”

I place my palm on his tiny chest. “Right here. In every good thing about you.”

He stares at my hand, then at me.

“You know why you’re brave?” I whisper. “Because he was brave. You know why you’re gentle? Because he was gentle. You know why I love you the way I do? Because he taught me how.”

Antonio blinks tears away.

“And baby… he didn’t leave. People don’t leave the ones they love. They just… move to a place where we can’t see them right now. But he watches you. Every day. Every time you laugh too loud or hug me so tight I can’t breathe, he sees it.”

I choke for a second but swallow it fast.

“And he’s proud of you. Oh my god, he’d be so proud of you, Antonio. You have no idea. He’d brag about you to everyone. He’d tell them you’re strong, and kind, and smarter than anyone your age. He’d tell them you’re everything.”

Antonio’s little hand reaches out and touches my jaw.

“He likes bikes too?” he whispers.

I smile, trying not to burst into tears.

“He loved bikes. Just like me. Just like you. If he was here, he’d take you on the tank and let you pretend to drive, exactly the way I do.”

“So you knew him, daddy?” he asks again, smaller this time.

I press my forehead to his.

“Yeah,” I breathe. “I knew him. And I miss him every day. Some days more. Like today.”

My voice cracks a little. I don’t hide it. But I don’t let it fall apart either.

“You remind me of him,” I whisper. “So much sometimes, it scares me how much I love you.”

He hugs me.

I hold him tight, because for a second I’m not just hugging my son.

I’m hugging every version of myself that needed to hear these words and never did.

Then I pull back, wipe his nose gently.

“Okay,” I say, forcing a soft smile, “let’s get you in pajamas before you turn into a cold wet noodle and dada yells at me for negligence.”

Antonio giggles against my shoulder.

I walk out of Antonio’s room after half an hour and I feel like someone scooped out my insides.

I try to straighten up, pretend I’m fine.

I walk into the kitchen.

Rava is setting two plates on the counter.

He walks over and wraps his arms around my neck without even asking.

I grab him by the waist and hold him tight, burying my face in his neck.

Just breathing him in is enough to stop me from cracking open right there.

“What happened in the bath?” he asks softly.

Oh boy. You really shouldn’t have asked that.

Wrong question, wrong time.

I try to blink fast, to swallow the burn, to keep the tears where they belong… but the second he asks what’s wrong, my fingers are already at my eyes, wiping.

His smile dies instantly. “Oh no… hey. Come here.”

He drags me to the couch by the wrist.

We sit face to face. “What happened?” he asks again.

I let out this bitter, shaky laugh. “I—fuck. I just had my first conversation about death with our son.”

My voice cracks. “Because some little asshole told him his grandpa is probably dead and we’re just keeping secrets from him.”

Rava sucks in a breath.

“Oh my god… Gio.” He pulls me in. One arm tight around my shoulders, one hand on the back of my head.

I cling to him, and a tear slips into his shirt.

“He looked so confused,” I choke out.

“He’s two and a half. Two and a half, Rava. And he had to hear it from some random kid who doesn’t know shit about anything.”

“It’s not your fault,” Rava murmurs against my hair. “And it’s not the kids fault either. Listen to me, some parents don’t teach their kids a single fucking thing about being gentle. That’s on them, not you.”

I wipe my face, angry at myself for crying.

“I didn’t want him to learn it like that,” I whisper. “Not like that. Not sad. Not alone in a bathroom asking me why. He’s just a baby, Rava. And I had to see his face break. Because another kid couldn’t shut his mouth.”

“I know, baby,” Rava says, cupping my cheek. “I know. And you’re right.”

He shifts closer.

“But hear me out, Gio,” he says softly. “He knows now. And he knows because you told him. Not a random kid. You explained it the right way. You held him through it. That’s the part he’s going to remember.”

I stare at the floor, trying to believe him.

“And don’t be an asshole to yourself,” Rava adds gently. “You’re learning too. It’s your first time being a dad, Gio.”

I breathe out hard, rubbing my palm over my face.

“This is so much harder than I thought,” I admit. “Every time I think I’m good, something brings him up and… it hits again. Same questions. Same fucking hole in my chest. Why did he do what he did? Why did he leave like that? When he was up there… on that fucking building… when he was ready to jump—”

My throat closes for a second but I force the words out.

“Why didn’t he think about me, Rava? I would never, never , put Antonio through that. Or you. No matter how bad things got. Why didn’t he think of me? Why didn’t I matter? Why didn’t he say, shit, my boy, my Gio, what is he gonna do?”

My voice cracks.

“What’s he gonna think if I disappear? If I don’t come home? If he sees the police at the door? What if he sees my dead body? What if he has to live with that?”

I can’t stop.

“Why didn’t he think, fuck, Gio’s gonna think I left him… Gio’s gonna grow up wondering what he did wrong?”

I slap my hand against my thigh, frustrated tears sliding down before I can wipe them.

“WHY didn’t he think of ANY of that, Rava?”

I’m shaking now.

“Why didn’t he think of my face? My little hands waiting at the window? Why didn’t he think of how I would survive after that? Why wasn’t I enough to make him stay?”

That thought has been eating me alive for years. Rava pulls me closer.

He rubs my back slowly, his chin resting on my shoulder.

“Baby, he didn’t think about you because he wasn’t here anymore. Not in the way you think. People don’t jump because they stop loving the people in their life. They jump because their pain gets so loud that they can’t hear anything else over it.”

His fingers slide to the back of my neck, grounding me.

“And you… god, Gio… you were not the reason he let go. You were the reason he held on as long as he did.”

I inhale sharply.

“He didn’t climb that building thinking, ‘Fuck my son.’ He wasn’t thinking at all . Because when someone is drowning inside their own head, they don’t see anyone outside it. Not even the people they love.”

He kisses my head. “You should have been enough. You were enough. But he wasn’t healthy enough to know that. That’s the difference.”

He rests his forehead against mine, breathing through the weight of it.

“You didn’t lose him because he didn’t care. You lost him because he couldn’t carry his own mind anymore. And I hate that for you. I hate that you were a kid waiting by the window for someone who was fighting demons you couldn’t see. I hate that you thought it was your fault. I hate that you had to grow up thinking you weren’t worth staying for.”

He cups my face again.

“And look at you,” he continues. “Look at how that pain shaped you. Look at what you became because of it.”

I shake my head, but he doesn’t let me look away.

“You are the kind of father who would walk through fire for his kid. You love Antonio in all the right ways, because you know how it feels to grow up without the person you needed. You would live for your son. That’s the most important thing in the world.”

His voice breaks just a little.

“And that’s why you’re different, Gio. That’s why you’re better. That’s why you would never leave. Because you love Antonio the way you needed someone to love you.”

His forehead touches mine.

“And I’m so damn proud of you,” he whispers. “So fucking proud.”

I breathe out, and wrap my arms around him, cause he’s the only thing holding me up.

“You really believe that?” I ask, but it doesn’t sound like a question, more like I need to hear the truth twice to let it stick.

He nods instantly.

“Fuck, Rava… I didn’t know how much I needed that.”

I hug him tighter. “And you’re right,” I admit.

“I love Antonio so much it scares me. I’d never leave him. Not for anything. Not even for a second. I want him to never feel the way I felt.”

“Believe me… he will never feel unloved. Not ever. Not with us. That kid is drowning in love. We’re doing so much better than you think. Better than I ever imagined.”

I smile, proudly. “Yeah,” I say, wiping my face with the back of my hand. “Because we have you. You’re over here comforting both of us. It’s like having two babies, me and Antonio.”

Rava snorts, then laughs into my neck, curling up closer like he’s trying to hide in my hoodie.

“Oh please,” he mumbles against my skin. “Don’t leave yourself out of this. We’re raising him together. We’re a team. It’s ride or die… and we’re not dying. Remember?”

I groan and shove my face into his shoulder.

“Oh god, don’t say shit like that right now. I just stopped crying.”

Rava laughs, and he lifts his head just enough to press a gentle kiss to my lips.

“Come on,” he whispers. “Let’s go eat.”

“Yeah…” I breathe out, finally letting my body relax. “Please. Before I start again.”

He stands, still holding my hand, guiding me toward the kitchen.

I really needed this today. And he didn’t disappoint.

He never does. That’s why we’re family.

---

Y’all I’m actually so proud of myself for that chapter…

I had to take three tik tok breaks to stop myself from crying 😭🤚

I love them so much it’s embarrassing.

Forget my tattoo career, I’m becoming a writer lmao.

Or maybe i’ll do both.

Anyway, that’s all, Bye bye i love you a lot ❤️

8) Escobar

Guys, I’m honestly shocked by how much I love this chapter. The research I put into it just confirmed how obsessed I am with it. I’m gonna cry.

UPDATE:

This scene is now in Ride or Die too!! Originally, it belonged here, in Raise or Die, but I loved it so much I couldn’t let it go, so I added it to Ride or Die for the physical book.

Only difference is that there… it has a different ending. Oops.

Rava’s POV

I’m lying on the couch.

Gio’s head is parked right between my thighs.

We just put Antonio to sleep, finally.

The kid refused to close his eyes unless we did the skit again.

Me as the strict teacher, Gio as the bad student getting “punished,” Antonio laughing… like it’s the peak of theater.

We had to run it three fucking times.

With three different punishments.

Gio fake-crying louder every round.

Antonio losing his mind.

Now it’s quiet. And Gio is too.

He’s sad.

He hasn’t said it, but I can feel it.

Today’s that day…

The annual Underground street race.

He never misses it. Or… used to never miss it.

Back then it was Gio and Lorenzo side by side, leaning on their bikes, driving like death is just a word.

That place was their second home.

And he walked away from all of it.

Mostly because of Antonio. Because of us.

Because one day he looked at me holding him, and said “I’m not losing this.”

But every year when this day hits… I see it on him.

He tells everyone “nah, I don’t care anymore,” but then he spends the whole night watching blurry videos his friends send, listening to engines rev over crappy phone audio just to rate them.

He is always pretending he’s fine, while his eyes say otherwise.

And it hurts. It actually hurts watching him pretend he doesn’t miss the one thing that used to make him feel alive.

I run my fingers through his hair slowly.

God, I wish he’d just say it.

Say he wants to go. Say he misses it.

Instead… he stays here. With me.

Sad in silence.

“Gio?”

“Hmm?”

I take a breath. “Let’s go.”

He shoots upright.

Stares at me with those big, shocked eyes.

I can’t help laughing. “You wanna go to the race? I’m serious.”

He blinks fast. “How did you— why, what?!”

“I saw the video you were just watching,” I say, trying not to smile too wide. “Has it started?”

He drops his gaze immediately. His fingers start fussing with the couch cover like it’s no big deal, but I know him. He’s flying.

“No. It’s early.”

“Then why not?” I push. “Do you still want to go?”

“You said it was dangerous,” he reminds me quietly. “We both did.”

He’s not wrong. But I look at him, and all I see is a man killing a part of himself because he thinks he has to.

“Yes,” I admit, “it is. I’m not telling you to jump into the most insane race of the night. But… objectively? You were the best one out there.”

I tap his knee. “And it showed. In every lap. It’s something you loved, Gio. I think you deserve to go. Just this once.”

He lets out this breathy laugh. “And Antonio?”

I rub my jaw, pretending I’m a genius doing heavy calculations.

“Hmmm… I’ll ask Daisy to come over and stay with him. You message Lorenzo.”

I raise a finger. “And do not message Marco. That man will lose his entire career if anyone sees the lawyer of the century at an underground race.”

Gio bursts out laughing. “True. Although… if I found out my lawyer did illegal races after office hours, I’d respect him more. Very ‘I handle your contracts and then go break laws on two wheels.’”

I shake my head, smiling. “So… we’re going?”

He gives me that stupid, happy grin. “I guess we are!”

He looks happy. Antonio level happy.

Like when he sees a toy he’s been eyeing for days and we finally say, “okay, take it.”

“Get up then,” I say, nudging him with my foot. “Get ready. Text Lorenzo. I’ll call Daisy.”

He doesn’t even respond with actual words.

He just grabs my face, and kisses me, full of excitement.

And I kiss him back, smiling into his mouth.

I already know I’m kissing the winner.

Half an hour later

Daisy and Lorenzo are on their way, and Gio’s already wearing his full gear.

Our helmets are on the counter.

I’m standing there like a thirsty clown.

God help me. I want to tell him, “actually… I changed my mind. We’re staying home. But the gear? Oh no, baby, that stays ON.”

I feel like a big whore staring at him like this.

If I were his opponent, I’d lose just because he turned his head to look at me.

I’d lose proudly.

The doorbell rings.

I open and Daisy storms in.

“MOVE,” she commands, already halfway to Antonio’s room.

She takes one look at him sleeping, and immediately starts crying.

I start laughing quietly.

She covers her mouth. “Rava… I’m stealing your son. I swear. He’s just a little cherry. I’m gonna eat him.”

“For now,” I tell her, “just keep him alive until we’re back. We’ll discuss custody after.”

She nods.

Lorenzo steps inside the house wearing his own gear and helmet under his arm.

“Hi, Ravioli. Thank you for convincing him. I could lick you right now.”

He stops, whips his head toward Gio with pure horror. “And then I will lick your husband’s shoes to apologize for that thought…”

I’m dying quietly. These idiots.

“Shall we?” I ask.

Lorenzo nods. “Yes. Let me say goodbye to my wife.”

He walks over to Daisy, hugs her like he’s leaving for war.

“Awww,” I say.

We all wave at her and head to the bikes.

They both start their equally loud engines.

I grab Gio’s waist.

At the traffic light, Lorenzo rolls up beside us and starts fake-fucking his bike.

Gio obviously copies him immediately and blows him a kiss.

Someone watching would swear they need therapy.

We reach the spot.

Exactly as I remember it. A fever dream.

Sports cars everywhere. Many different neon colors.

A sea of bikes lined up like a metallic rainbow.

Literally all the colors, green, red, matte black, silver.

It’s like a playground, but adult version.

Music is blasting from some speaker nobody can see.

Two cars nearby are doing donuts, and the drift causes smoke everywhere.

And I’m standing here like I spawned into the wrong server…

But I’ve got Gio in front of me and Lorenzo beside me, so nobody’s gonna laugh at me tonight.

Lorenzo is the first to lose his damn mind.

He starts bouncing. “WE ARE SO BACK, BITCHES!”

He screams it to the sky, and somehow also to three random dudes who immediately hug him back and jump with him.

Gio slips right into them.

They start giving handshakes and fist bumps.

Suddenly a bunch of the guys are greeting me too.

Me!

Rava.

The anxious teacher husband with a jacket that does NOT match the environment.

I freeze for a second but… it feels nice.

For one stupid moment I’m not “the outsider,” but part of Gio’s old world. Part of their noise.

“FONTANA!”

I turn and see Paulo, Gio’s unhinged friend from our wedding.

The man who drank an entire bottle of limoncello alone.

I will never forget.

“Hey man!” he grins and gives me a handshake.

Ok. Wow. This is going way better than I thought.

I’m not a ghost here after all.

We weave carefully through the hot cars.

Paulo throws his arms over Gio and Lorenzo.

“Alright, listen up,” he says. “I’ve got some wild opponents for you tonight.”

He looks at Lorenzo first. “You, Lorenzo, you will take Teo Garcia. Spanish. New-ish. INSANE. You’re gonna shit yourself.”

Lorenzo scoffs. “Eh, I don’t want fresh meat. You underestimate me, cookie.”

Paulo raises a brow. “I’m telling you, he’s tough.”

Then Paulo turns to Gio with dramatic flair.

“And you…”

He stretches a hand out toward the chaos.

“Miro fucking Escobar.”

My stomach drops and I don’t even know who that guy is.

Paulo keeps going.

“Bro. Only YOU could take him. See that Ferrari SF90 Stradale?”

He points at a neon-red monster that looks like it kills people for fun. Like Gio’s.

“That’s his. He’s wanted to race you for YEARS.”

He drops his voice. “But uh… he’s a little crazy. So, like… you CAN say no. Totally fine. You could pick that other guy instead.”

He gestures to another rider, this one on a bike. “Whatever you want. Tell me in ten.”

And then Paolo just spins and disappears into the crowd.

I look at Gio.

This can’t be good.

I came here thinking we’d watch something chill, clap twice, kiss once, go home.

Not… this.

“Gio, you’re not taking the car, right? That Escobar guy?”

I’m staring at him from afar.

Yup. He 100% looks like a mythological creature that eats HUSBANDS.

“Of course I’m taking the car. The Escobar guy.”

I gasp. “Are you INSANE?”

Lorenzo pats my shoulder like I’m five. “Relax, sweetheart. Your man knows what he’s doing. Escobar is a brick. A literal brick. Racing a bike with a car is the dumbest matchup. The dude is probably high and wants to prove a point.”

Before I can yell again, Gio grips my shoulders and sits me down on a low wall like I’m about to faint.

“Ravioli,” he says gently, kneeling a little so he’s eye-level.

“I know I’m contradicting myself… but bigger doesn’t always mean better. This is easy for me.”

I look at the car again.

The demon Ferrari with murder in its headlights.

I’m not convinced. Not at all.

Gio nudges my shoulder with his elbow.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Don’t let that car scare you. It looks crazy, yeah… but that doesn’t mean it can beat me.”

I raise a brow.

“Okay, listen,” he says, pointing at the Ferrari. “The car? It’s heavy. Like, fifteen hundred kilos heavy. My bike isn’t even two hundred. Light means fast reactions. I move quicker than he ever will.”

He steps in front of me a little, tilting his head, making sure I’m not spiraling.

“And that car needs space. Long roads, wide turns. My bike doesn’t. I can switch directions in half a second. He can’t.”

I start nodding.

Slowly.

Still terrified.

But listening.

“And his engine has to think. Computers, systems, traction control. Sure, it’s fast, but it needs perfect conditions.”

He taps his bike behind him. “Mine moves the second I twist the grip. No delay. No bullshit.”

I hate that he’s right. Cause I’m scared but he makes total sense.

“And braking?” he adds. “I stop faster. WAY faster. In a race like this, that’s everything. If he brakes late, he slides. If I brake late, my bike listens to me.”

He glances back at the Ferrari, then at me again.

“So yeah, he’s strong. But I’m quicker, lighter, better. I can weave through space he doesn’t even fit in.”

He shrugs. I exhale.

“You’ve seen me ride, Rava,” he says softly. “You know I can beat him. Easy.”

I let out a long breath. Then another. And another.

“…Okay, I trust you.”

He nods, relieved.

Then he grins and kisses me quick and hard.

“Go get a front-row spot,” he says against my lips. “I want you to see me win.”

I laugh, finally standing up.

“I like the spirit,” I tell him. “I’m going.”

Gio heads off with Lorenzo right behind him, and I push my way through the crowd.

People shove me and I shove back, ALWAYS with gentle, polite shoves.

Because I don’t want to die tonight.

I somehow manage to squeeze up close enough to see everything.

There are giant screens overhead so all of us peasants who aren’t behind a wheel can follow every turn.

Gio walks straight toward Escobar.

I watch them talk.

Well… Gio talks. Escobar just… glares.

He looks pissed for absolutely no reason.

Why would you be angry at someone you want to race? What’s the logic?

Shouldn’t you be like, “yeah man let’s have fun”?

Not “I hope you die so I look cool”?

They shake hands, and even the handshake feels hostile.

Great. I hate him already.

The race hasn’t even started yet and everyone around me transforms into animals.

They are shouting. They are screaming. They are jumping.

Gio’s circle is fun, chaotic… but some of the randoms here?

They look like they stab innocent people for entertainment I swear.

Still… being in his world like this?

It gives me the same little thrill as when he helps me… grade tests for example.

Like we’re stepping into each other’s realities.

Plus… not gonna lie, watching him in gear, that focused?

I swear I fall in love all over again.

Two young guys go first. Barely nineteen.

They race hard, to the point they almost crash.

But they hug each other after the race.

Now…

It’s Gio’s turn.

I’m sweating bullets.

Not because I think he’ll lose, hell no.

Because Escobar looks like a feral street goblin who wants Gio dead.

He’s giving murder energy.

Zero softness. Just “I have anger issues and drive expensive things.”

They honk horns. Crowd goes wild.

Lorenzo is perched on his bike in the corner.

“WOOP HIS ASS, GIOVANNI,” he screams.

The crowd yells back.

Gio spots me.

He waves. It was an actual puppy-energy wave.

My heart does a back flip.

Then he shuts his visor…

The girl in front raises the flags.

Everyone goes dead quiet.

Three… Two… One.

Flags drop.

They explode forward.

The whole crowd lurches with them as if we’re all tied to invisible ropes.

I grip the metal barrier in front of me just so I don’t start ripping my own hair out from the stress.

Gio takes the lead for exactly half a second, then Escobar swerves WAY too close, forcing Gio to pull back… unless he wants to lose a leg immediately.

“HEY!” I yell out loud. “HE DID THAT ON PURPOSE!”

The guy next to me laughs. “Yeah, man. It’s underground. Anything goes.”

“Anything?!” I’m offended.

Escobar cuts Gio off AGAIN, this time almost pushing him onto the side line!

I jab the elbow of the dude on my other side. “Is THAT allowed?!”

“Yep.” He shrugs. “Dirty racing is normal. If you complain, they’ll hit harder.”

Great. WONDERFUL. Let me just go vomit in a bush.

The Ferrari sends a burst of acceleration and gains distance.

My heart sinks.

Gio stays on him though, with zero panic.

Every time Escobar tries something shady, Gio moves with this impossible precision, slipping away.

He’s not shook at ALL.

I’m dying. He’s having the time of his life.

The first tight turn comes fast.

Escobar brakes late, tries to slide the back of the car out to block the road.

But Gio does exactly what he told me earlier.

He leans in and cuts the angle so sharply I gasp out loud.

He hugs the inside line.

And for the first time, he actually fucking gets ahead.

The crowd ROARS.

I nearly cry from relief.

“Oh my god. Oh my god THAT’S MY HUSBAND Y’ALL!”

Then Escobar hits him with another cheap move.

Shady bitch accelerates just enough to try and force Gio off balance on the next straight.

Gio’s bike shakes a little.

I freak out. “IS THAT LEGAL?!”

“YES,” the same guys answer in unison.

“How?!”

“IT JUST IS!”

I want to pass out.

But then Gio’s plan starts to unfold exactly like he explained.

Escobar’s Ferrari speeds up… but it takes too long to react.

Cause it’s too heavy.

Too fucking slow in the turns.

Gio slices past him again, this time smoother.

He ducks low and slips through the tiniest pocket of space on the track.

He’s in front now.

For real this time.

Escobar floors it.

Gio just nods his head like, yeah, I expected you to do that, asshole, and pulls away with this terrifying confidence.

Someone has to pick up my jaw. Cause, WOW.

He’s… he’s actually doing it.

He’s beating the giant red demon.

The crowd is losing their minds.

“Holy shit… holy shit holy shit holy— he’s winning,” I say, grabbing my hair.

The second they hit the final stretch, my whole body leans forward like I’m the one steering the damn bike.

Gio is in front.

Exactly like he promised. Exactly like he told me he could.

Please, Gio… just finish. Please, before I pass out.

He pushes more throttle.

I can hear it even from here.

I clench my fists.

Here he comes…

When he crosses the line, I launch myself into the air.

I scream so loud half the crowd jumps.

I accidentally smacked someone.

People around me start cheering with me, howling like wild animals because HE DID IT.

I see him on the screen, slowing down. Taking his helmet off.

I’m ready to run to him.

But the world stops.

The Ferrari slams into him.

On purpose.

The bike jerks sideways. Gio hits the ground aggressively.

And that’s the moment I stop breathing.

“I—NO. No no no no—”

I jump the barrier without thinking and sprint so fast that everything around me just blurs.

I’m shoving through people.

“Move—excuse me… MOVE, FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” I scream at some idiot who tries to block me.

Lorenzo abandons his bike and runs too.

There’s a whole swarm around Gio.

I can’t fucking see.

I want to break every single person in front of me.

I push through all of them, shoving hard now.

I finally see him.

On the ground.

My stomach flips inside out.

“Gio?!” I drop to my knees as fast as I can.

I touch his shoulder while my hands are shaking violently. “Gio—Gio, can you hear me?!”

He doesn’t answer.

He just pushes himself up slowly, clutching his arm, and stands.

He storms.

He walks toward the Ferrari with whatever rage is left in his shaking body.

He rips the door open, yanks Escobar out like he weighs nothing, and throws him on the pavement.

The crowd gasps.

He’s on top of him before anyone can blink.

I can’t hear what he’s saying cause the noise is too loud, but I see him land one solid punch right to Escobar’s face.

And God help me, I want him to land ten more.

Lorenzo grabs my arm and spins me toward him.

His face is pale.

“Take Gio,” he yells. “Check if he’s hurt. He’s shaking, this thing he does right now, is pure adrenaline and shock. We can’t know if he’s actually okay. I’ll deal with that piece of shit.”

I nod fast and yank Gio back.

I look at his face, and I see… blood.

I see blood on Gio’s cheek.

On my husband’s cheek.

No, fuck my manners. Fuck the whole idea of restraint.

I punch him right in the face too, so hard his head snaps sideways.

So hard I don’t even feel guilt for half a second.

He deserved a hundred more.

One for every heartbeat I lost when he launched my husband into the asphalt.

All because he couldn’t swallow his pathetic fucking loss.

He turns back toward me.

That means one punch wasn’t enough.

So my fist connects with his jaw again.

Harder this time.

“GOOD. BUT GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!!” Lorenzo screams.

And he’s right. I grab Gio’s arm with both hands, dragging him with me, pushing through the bodies, shoving people out of the way with all my power.

Something metal glints on the floor. A loose pipe.

I snatch it mid-run, and with every ounce of fury left in me, I smash both his headlights in.

Then the window.

Glass explodes everywhere.

If you can try to take a life for fun, then I’m sure you can take a new car too.

Gio’s hands are trembling. It scares me more than anything.

“Gio—” I cup his face, searching his eyes.

“Tell me NOW what hurts. Don’t act tough. Tell me.”

He doesn’t speak.

He just collapses into my arms, hugging me tight.

“I’m sorry, Rava,” he breathes into my shoulder. “I’m so fucking sorry. We shouldn’t have come. I shouldn’t have listened to you.”

“ARE YOU CRAZY?!” I pull back enough to look at him.

“That asshole hit you after the race! That’s beyond dirty, that’s criminal! This is NOT your fault. Not even a little.”

He looks down, shaking.

“Are you okay? Are you dizzy?” I insist.

“Tell me. Please. You scared the hell out of me. I thought—”

He brushes his hair back with trembling fingers. “I’m fine. I swear. I’ve had worse. I’m just pissed.”

“I don’t care if you’re pissed. I care if you’re alive!”

I crush him into another hug because I physically cannot let go.

Not after watching him fall like that. Not after that terrifying, absolutely gut wrenching sound.

“I want to break every bone in his body,” he tells me.

I hold him tighter.

No way I’m letting him go near that man again.

“Please,” I whisper, “let’s just go home. Take the gear off. Let me see your arm. Please.”

Lorenzo appears again, breathless.

“That was the most fucked-up thing I’ve ever seen,” he says.

“Gio, holy shit. Are you hurt? Should I call someone?”

“We will go home,” I tell him fast. “Can you help us get out of here?”

He nods. “One of my guys will take you in his car. Don’t stress about the bike. I’ll handle everything.”

“I can walk. I don’t need—”

“Shut up,” Lorenzo snaps. “You’re going.”

We lift him gently. He can walk, but his body still trembles when he moves.

“Don’t get involved,” Gio warns him. “I don’t want you in trouble.”

“Let me worry about that,” Lorenzo says. “Just get home safe.”

I spot a thick metal bar on the ground.

Probably leftover from a broken barrier.

I pick it up.

We get to the car.

I help Gio get into the backseat.

Lorenzo leans in. “I’ll meet you at your place.”

I nod. “Thank you. Seriously.”

The door closes.

As the car starts rolling forward, I drop the window, stick half my torso out, and with one angry perfect swing…

I smash the entire windshield of Escobar’s Ferrari.

Glass detonates everywhere.

I look straight at Escobar.

“Big car, tiny balls!” Lorenzo’s friend yells at him.

Good. You deserve it.

And if Gio had gotten hurt, I’d make you swallow every goddamn piece of that glass.

We get into the house.

I barely get the door shut before I guide Gio straight to the couch and make him sit.

Daisy’s eyes go wide the second she sees us.

“What happened?! Where the hell is Lorenzo?!”

“Daisy, please,” I say. “Can you get the first aid kit? Just in case? I’ll explain in a second.”

“Why, oh my God, Gio, are you okay?!”

Gio groans as he leans back. “Unfortunately for someone out there… I survived.”

“GO.” I point.

Daisy sprints and returns in three seconds flat.

I start peeling off his gear piece by piece.

I’m holding my breath the entire time.

Okay. No blood. No torn skin. Just bruising under the suit.

I let out the deepest exhale of my life.

Christ, Gio…

I love you SO much for spending actual money on your gear and not just blowing it all on stupid shit.

You are a God.

I drop my forehead into the side of his neck, grounding myself.

He’s alive.

Not lying twisted on asphalt under headlights.

Not a nightmare I can’t wake up from.

He’s here.

The father of my kid is here.

And I swear on everything, I’m never letting him risk his life like that again.

I learned tonight that even if you’re perfect, even if you do everything right…

One asshole can still end you.

Death does not give a damn.

It takes whoever it wants.

Gio presses a kiss to my hair.

It pisses me off that he’s mad at himself.

Like he caused this.

Like he wasn’t the ONLY one out there doing everything correctly.

I wrap my arms around him tight.

“Can we take a shower and not leave this house for a week?” I mumble into his chest.

He gives this weak little laugh. “Yeah. I vote yes.”

“Wait—your arm. It hurt. There’s no cut but—something’s off. Should we go to the hospital???”

Gio panics instantly. “What? No?! No. I’m fine. I swear. I fell fast, I didn’t hit hard. Rava, I swear on—”

“Swear on your child,” I demand.

He looks me dead in the eyes.

“I swear on our son. I’m okay. I just want to lie down with you. That’s it.”

I nod. Again. Again. Again.

My whole body trembling from adrenaline that still hasn’t left.

“I should’ve thrown that metal bar at his HEAD,” I mutter, realizing it too late. “Not the windshield.”

Gio snorts a laugh. “Oh my god, imagine you in jail.”

“Shame on you,” I slap his leg. “How are you laughing after what just happened?!”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I don’t know. I’m trying to choke down the rage before I go back out and kill him.”

I cup his jaw and kiss him once more because I can feel his fear under the humor.

“No more random races,” I tell him. “Only Lorenzo and Marco from now on. Deal?”

Gio nods immediately. “Deal.”

Good.

Because I’m not losing him over some entitled psychopath with a fast car and zero brain cells.

---

This chapter is too good to stay here omg.

9) Overprotective Gene

Gio’s POV

I’m lying here in the softest little pile of happiness ever.

It’s almost embarrassing how good it feels.

We’re all three on the bed. Like a family sandwich.

Rava on one side, me on the other, and Antonio squeezed between us cause he refuses to sleep in his own bed tonight.

He is glued to my chest while I’m tracing slow circles on Rava’s bare shoulder.

He’s not asleep, but he’s drifting. My angel.

Christ. Moments like this ruin me.

I’m so stupidly happy I could cry. No joke. My throat actually burns.

It feels like life finally stopped trying to beat the shit out of me and decided to give me this instead. This bed. This warmth. This ridiculous little family we built.

And then I think about our daughter…

A tiny girl with his face and my personality?

I’m done. Finished. That kid is going to destroy me in every way and I can’t wait.

I glance at Antonio. My little man.

There was a time his name used to hurt, like a ghost walking through me.

Confusion, sadness, nostalgia… all mixed up.

But now when I hear “Antonio,” I think of his laugh first.

I think of him calling Rava “Vava.”

I think of that dumb silly little dance he does when he’s excited.

I think of all the things he added to my life without ever trying.

He didn’t erase the past.

He just gave me new memories that sit beside the old ones without fighting them.

The damn doorbell ruins everything.

I give Rava one last slow stroke on his shoulder, slip out from under the blanket, and drag myself up.

I rub my eyes, yank a shirt over my head while walking, and open the door.

It’s Lorenzo.

But not my normal Lorenzo.

Not the loud, dramatic Lorenzo.

This Lorenzo looks like someone robbed his entire bank account, blamed him for it, and then told him to smile for the camera.

He’s standing there with both hands over his face.

He steps inside without a word and starts pacing. Not walking. Spinning. Like a damn Beyblade in our living room.

Rava comes out of the bedroom, closes the door quietly behind him, and just… watches him spin.

No words. Just breathing hard.

“Use your words,” Rava says in that soft teacher voice he uses on toddlers.

Lorenzo opens his mouth, but doesn’t speak. Drops onto the couch.

Covers his face again.

And then starts laughing.

A lot.

“What the hell is happening?” I ask.

I’m laughing too because when people laugh in front of me, my brain just joins in.

Rava stares at him. “Did you hit your head? What is this?”

Lorenzo suddenly jumps up, grabs both of us by the arms, yanks us close while still laughing.

“Say it,” I warn him, “or I’m punching you until you spit it out.”

He drags his hands through his hair, shaking.

“Daisy’s pregnant.”

Rava’s hand immediately goes P L A T S on his own mouth from the shock.

My jaw drops.

Next thing I know, me and Rava throw ourselves at him, and now we are all spinning around like crazy, laughing.

Lorenzo looks like he’s two seconds away from crying.

He’s sweating.

Rava fans him with his hand. “Okay okay okay breathe breathe breathe you’re fine you’re fine you’re fine—you’re just gonna be a dad, that’s all.”

Lorenzo covers his face again and hugs Rava tight, and I jump on top of both of them.

“Oh my God. When? How—?” Rava asks.

Lorenzo snaps his head toward him. “You actually wanna know how?”

Rava smacks his shoulder instantly. “Shut up. That’s my sister.”

“Please,” Lorenzo says, rolling his eyes. “Like you’re any better. Okay. Anyway. Sit down, both of you.”

We crash onto the couch, me and Lorenzo.

“I’m bringing cake, wait for me,” Rava says.

And instead of slicing anything like a normal person, he just brings the entire bowl of the cake he baked yesterday and drops it on the table.

My sweet impatient little creature.

He climbs straight onto my lap. Lorenzo sits across from us.

“So, where’s Daisy right now?” Rava asks, already scooping cake with his fingers. “Tell her I’m mad she didn’t tell me.”

“NO,” Lorenzo says immediately.

I laugh. “First of all, shut up, because your kid isn’t born yet, but our kid is, and he’s sleeping, so keep your voice down.”

“That’s fair,” he says. “Good point. Sorry, daddy Gio. Anyway, Daisy doesn’t know I told you. Sorry. I couldn’t hold it in. She told her best friends… you guys are mine.”

He shoves a massive bite of cake in his mouth. Stops. Stares at it.

“Damn. This is good. You made this too?” He points at Rava.

Rava nods, proud as hell, literally smiling with teeth.

“Give Daisy the recipe,” Lorenzo says. “Actually, give it to me. I’m not letting her do anything alone. She’ll kill our kid by accident.”

Rava elbows me lightly. “Yep. Now I’m sure you two are family. You’ve got the overprotective gene.”

Lorenzo tips his head back dramatically onto the couch, staring at the ceiling.

“Guys… I’m gonna explode. This is insane. I’m gonna be a dad. Me. A dad. Can you even picture that?”

I shrug. “Wanna honest answer? No. Not even a little. But to be fair, I didn’t see myself as a dad either, and here I am. So yeah. You’ll be fine.”

He suddenly jumps back to his feet.

“These past few days she was so sick,” he says, pacing again. “I mean complaining nonstop about her stomach hurting, snapping at me for literally breathing wrong, she got mad because I ’sprayed the entire perfume bottle on myself. I sprayed the same amount I always spray! She acted like I drowned her in cologne. Then she started throwing up. Like. A lot. Everywhere. And I told her it was because we keep eating gummy candy, or, I don’t know, I told her one time she shouldn’t have eaten that much.”

He throws his hands up. “I didn’t KNOW, okay?”

Rava’s already covering his mouth trying not to laugh.

“Her friends told her to take a test. Which I didn’t even think of. So she comes to me holding five tests. All of them positive. Every single one.” He pauses.

“Bro, I cried. I’m not joking. I sat there talking to my hamsters for like an hour, telling them they were gonna have a baby sibling.”

Rava melts instantly. “Aww… that reminds me of us when we found out about Valentina. Top five best days of my life.”

“What was number one?” I ask.

“When I found out you left for Spain and abandoned me,” he says, still staring at Lorenzo.

That was emotional stabbing.

I laugh. Poor thing.

Spain really did ruin us, cut our rope clean, then years later tied us back together with steel instead.

I pull him closer into my chest.

“Okay,” I say. “We need to go out. Get drinks. Celebrate. Does everyone else know?”

“No,” Lorenzo says. “I was gonna tell them right after you guys. I feel like Marco’s gonna scream and Noah’s just gonna stand there frozen, staring at me. Oh my God, I can’t wait.”

He starts pacing again.

“I’m gonna be such a cool dad,” he says. “I legit can’t wait.”

---

Hey. I’m sorry the chapter was short. I really didn’t mean for it to turn out that way. I had a much bigger plan. 💔 But I’m in the middle of a huge fight with my mom, and no matter how hard I tried to keep my nonchalant attitude, she raped me emotionally so now I’m writing this with tears and snot like some disgusting baby.

But I had to post, because you guys asked for it and because writing is the only thing that makes me feel better right now.

It’s something about a job. These next few days I’ll be pretty busy, because I have to deal with a profession I HATE, but I’m being forced into it. And they insult me like crazy whenever I dare to disagree. So, rip.

Do your moms do that thing too? Where they can say literally anything, drag you for every tiny thing you have or don’t have, but you aren’t allowed to get offended no matter how harsh it is?

Anyway. Thank you for understanding.

10) Surprise!

Rava’s POV

Gio’s on the kitchen table with Antonio, making vroooom sounds like he’s 2.5 years old too.

I’m at the counter, deep in sugar and butter, trying to finish this damn dessert before our guest shows up and judge me for existing.

Jin.

The gremlin. The child of chaos himself.

I still can’t believe this little idiot studies criminology.

Criminology .

Like… how?

I spent his entire childhood convinced he’d grow up to slice ham at a deli or shepherd goats on a mountain somewhere.

He used to dry-heave at the sight of homework.

And now? He’s a crime nerd.

And he’s also obsessed with the gym because, “ girls need something to grab, Rava. “

God help me.

Yeah, he had a girlfriend once.

Three years ago.

She moved to the other side of the planet because of her parents, and broke up with him over FaceTime.

He cried for days. She cried too.

But he got over it eventually. They still talk sometimes.

Chaos attracts chaos, I guess.

I close the fridge with my hip and turn toward my two favorite humans at the table.

Gio’s lifting Antonio’s arms up to celebrate.

“Tell dada thank you for making us this amazing dessert,” Gio says, very dramatically.

My face heats up instantly.

I hate how fast I melt when someone compliments my cooking.

It’s embarrassing.

“Thank you, dada!” Antonio squeaks.

I go straight over, grab his tiny cheeks, and press our noses together. “You’re welcome, baby.”

Then I lean over to Gio and wrap him in a quick hug, kissing his cheek.

His skin’s still damp from the shower. “Thank you too, baby,” I mumble against his skin.

I lean down to Antonio, soften my voice. “You know who’s coming now?”

Gio mutters under his breath, “Your unhinged, empty-headed uncle.”

“UNCLE JIN!”

Holy mother of God.

The screaming.

Blu immediately launches into barking mode like the house is under attack.

I slap a hand over my mouth because I’m laughing too hard. “Wow, I’ll take that as excitement.”

Antonio nods, giggling.

God, I miss Jin. That little idiot.

When I first moved back to Italy, he was basically glued to me every single damn day, literally acting like my shadow with ADHD.

I got used to it again. I liked having him around.

Now that he’s away for school, everything feels… weirdly quiet.

Is this how he felt when I left for Canada?

Poor idiot.

At least he’s having fun.

He keeps bragging about his glow-up, like every two days I get a photo of him flexing in a gym mirror, fully believing he’s the sexiest thing alive.

And okay… I tease him nonstop because deep down he’s kind of a hoe now.

Ever since he realized people actually find him attractive?

Yeah.

Chaos .

But he’ll grow out of it. He’s only twenty-one.

Barely emotionally toilet-trained. Let him live.

“Vroooom!” Antonio screams.

And then a real bike outside matches his little vroom.

But ten thousand times louder.

Antonio freezes.

The sound doesn’t fade.

It’s parked right outside our house.

I look at Gio. “Was Marco supposed to come?”

“No,” Gio says. “Only Jin.”

We stare at each other with our mouths open like two idiots.

“No way,” I whisper.

“Impossible,” Gio says.

We sprint to the window.

Gio snatches Antonio up.

We jump onto the couch, looking like neighborhood aunties ready to gossip about whoever’s ruining the peace.

And yeah. There’s a guy outside.

On a huge, very loud bike.

He cuts the engine. Pulls off the helmet.

My hand flies to my mouth.

Gio slaps both hands over Antonio’s ears.

“Holy fucking shit—THAT’S JIN!” I yell.

I bolt to the door.

My baby brother… My emotionally-damaged goblin achieved his dream.

Gio’s laughing behind me. “Damn, my boy really said main character arc.”

I swing the door open.

He’s holding his helmet in hand, and his dark brown hair is falling in his face.

“Surprise! Sup, dramatic bitch,” he says, pulling me into a hug.

I’m still in shock.

Right.

He’s my height. My actual height.

When I first came back to Italy and he was sixteen, I was a whole head taller.

Now he’s basically eye-level.

One more growth spurt and he’s gonna treat me like a decorative lamp.

If the Weston family inherited anything good from our father, it’s the height gene.

Even Daisy looks like a damn cypress tree.

Jin turns to Gio.

Silence.

They stare at each other.

“You son of a bitch,” Gio mutters.

Jin bursts out laughing.

Then he turns to Antonio, who is practically shaking with excitement.

“AYYYY MY FAVORITE LITTLE SHITTY TEDDY BEAR!”

He sweeps Antonio up and spins him around like a helicopter.

“I’m your coolest uncle, I hope you know that.”

Antonio goes, “Lolezo.”

“Lolezo? Pff. Ignore that one. He’s a brain-damaged diva. I’m the cool one.”

I smack Jin’s arm.

“Okay, okay! I’m joking! We love Uncle Lorenzo because he’s the light of our lives. I take it back before your dada murders me.”

Antonio giggles, absolutely pleased with his chaotic uncle.

Jin goes to wash his hands, and the three of us just… stare at him.

He cracks up immediately. “I can feel the Fontana family judging me. All three of you. Even the tiny spawn.”

Gio crosses his arms. “Since when do you have a bike? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jin dries his hands on our towel, totally unbothered.

Then he grabs our soap and sniffs it.

“Where’d you get this?”

“I’m not telling you,” I say.

“I’ll tell mom,” he threatens.

“I’m a parent now! You can’t snitch on me anymore.”

“Watch me.”

He turns to Gio with a grin. “Come here, baby. I’ll tell you everything.”

He scoops Antonio up.

They walk to the living room together. He plops onto our couch with Antonio on his lap, Lulu and Blu immediately gluing themselves to his legs.

“You like my bike?” Jin asks Gio, chest puffed up. “It’s a Yamaha R7. She’s sexy. Admit it.”

Gio is still in shock. Actually speechless.

Then his expression shifts, now he looks… sad?

“So… does this mean you won’t ask me to take you on rides anymore?”

“No,” Jin says.

Gio sighs.

“BECAUSE WE’RE GOING ON RIDES TOGETHER, BITCH!” Jin yells, jumping off the couch and basically tackling Gio into a hug.

They spin around together, and it warms my cold, anxious little heart.

Antonio watches them with this pure little smile, like he knows exactly what’s happening even though he absolutely doesn’t.

My husband and my brother, two grown men, acting like hyper ten-year-olds in front of Antonio.

And I love them for it.

Gio suddenly grabs Jin by the shoulders and pushes him down onto the couch.

“Okay, okay—wait. Wait. What’s the engine displacement?”

Jin smiles. “689cc. Parallel-twin. Smooth as hell. Next.”

Gio narrows his eyes. “Horsepower?”

“Forty-seven,” Jin fires back. “A2-restricted. I am legal. Calm your tits.”

Gio freezes for a second. That number hits him right in the heart.

He steps closer, crossing his arms.

“Top speed?”

“Like… 180. Maybe 190 downhill if I’m stupid. But I’m not stupid. I promise. I’m heavy enough to stay glued to the road.”

I choke on nothing because Gio is suddenly experiencing proud-but-traumatized dad energy.

He keeps going.

“Suspension?”

“KYB. Forty-one millimeter forks. Adjustable preload.”

Jin shrugs. “What? I did my homework, old man.”

“We’re both in our twenties. Don’t call me old man.”

“I’ve been calling you old man since you were twenty-three. Hush.”

Gio just stares at him.

Jin squints at him. “Bro, why are you looking at me like that?”

“Who taught you all this? Since when do you know things? Are you cheating on me with another man?”

Jin shrugs. “Actually… yeah. A friend in Milan taught me.”

Gio looks betrayed. So betrayed I’m actually hurt.

Like the dog he feeds every day suddenly bit him.

“Dude… why would you do that?” His voice cracks.

“It’s like having the best chef in your house and still ordering cheap takeout! Literally.”

Jin winces. “Okay, okay—SORRY! I wanted it to be a surprise. I knew you’d be the most excited. You’re the one who made me obsessed with bikes in the first place. Even though you STILL owe me a ride.”

Gio laughs, but he’s still sulking, the dramatic little man.

I wrap my arms around him from behind, laughing.

“My poor tiny creature…”

“I’m not tiny,” Gio grumbles. “Your brother is disloyal.”

Jin throws his hands up. “OKAY STOP. You’re gonna guilt-trip me into selling it!”

“Sit down,” Gio orders. “You’re not selling anything. But from now on, you ask ME for bike advice. Not your idiot friend.”

Jin bites a laugh. “Fine.”

They stare at each other for a long second.

“…Will you take me for a ride on it?” Gio finally asks.

Jin absolutely loses it, laughing hysterically.

“I can’t believe the roles flipped like this. I’ve waited YEARS for this moment.”

He scoops Antonio back into his arms and marches straight to the kitchen.

“Awwww, look what your dada made,” he says dramatically, leaning over the dessert in the fridge.

“He made sweets. And I’m taking half of this with me to Milan. Maybe I’ll take you too. Hm? Want to come with me?”

Antonio tilts his head. “What about my toys?”

Jin snorts. “Those aren’t a problem. We’ll take them all. What about your dads? You want them too, or should we leave them behind?”

“TOGETHER!!” Antonio screams.

Gio throws his hands up. “Perfect. Guess we’re abandoning the house. Jin, you cooking for us or…?”

“No,” Jin says. “I’ll be studying.”

“Great,” Gio deadpans.

Jin turns to us. “So when are you expecting the second one?”

I look at the ceiling. “August…? I think?”

Gio nods. “Early August.”

Jin gasps.

“A Leo girl?! With GIO as a father?!?! Change the dates. Please. I’m scared already. She’s gonna beat me up.”

Gio smirks. “Good. She should. Proud of her already.”

Jin taps Antonio’s tiny nose. “You hear that? Hm? You hear it?”

Then he turns to us, baffled.

“I can’t do this. This is so weird. It’s like talking to a mini Gio. How the hell does he already look that much like you? He’s two and a half. TWO AND A HALF. Your sperm really said, ‘Relax, I got this,’ and did the entire job alone.”

He bursts into laughter, and of course I start laughing too because Antonio is already Gio copy-paste.

Then Jin suddenly freezes.

“Wait… if the girl comes out looking like Rava… that means she’ll look like Daisy too. You two are basically twins.”

“We are NOT alike,” I say.

Gio goes, “You and Daisy are alike. She just has softer features, not as sharp. But the base? Same.”

Jin snaps his fingers. “SEE? Perfect.”

And God…

The moment he says it, I feel like screaming.

A little girl. With my face.

It hits me harder than I expect, and my eyes sting in that don’t you dare cry in front of people way.

I know I’m emotional. I’ve accepted it. But the thought of her makes me want to cry and laugh and panic all at once.

Antonio better protect her with his whole tiny soul.

Big brother duty starts early.

---

HELP ME OUT, THIS IS IMPORTANT.

1. Drop anything you wanna see in future chapters under this post. Drama, jealousy, fluff, fights, breakdowns, whatever. Help me.

2. I’m really not ready for Ride or Die to end… and a LOT of you keep asking for a Noah & Marco book.

It’s an idea, okay? I just don’t know how many of you actually want it 😭

So let’s vote.

Do you want a brand-new, completely fresh story?

OR a spin-off connected to a Ride or Die character?

Tell me. I’m listening.

11) He’s Gay

Rava’s POV

I curl closer to Gio without even thinking.

Antonio’s tiny crib is right next to us, and for the first time in days… it’s just me and him on the bed again.

His arms are slung around my neck, and he’s dragging me straight into his chest like he’s trying to merge us into one creature.

And God… I love it here. I can’t even explain it properly.

It’s warm, it’s safe, it feels like I’m wrapped inside some kind of indestructible armor he built just for me.

Like I’m in a second home inside my actual home.

He shifts a little to pull me in tighter.

Then he tucks the blanket around me, shoving the edges under me so I’m trapped like a burrito.

I smile against his skin.

I slide my hand around his waist and stroke small circles into his skin slowly.

He laughs a little. While half-asleep.

I freeze and tilt my head up. “What?” my face says.

“Tickles,” he mumbles into my hair, still basically unconscious.

I bite back a laugh. I swear, he tells me every time.

And every single time I forget and do it again.

I slide my hand higher, up his back, rubbing from his shoulders all the way down to the dip of his spine.

I wish time would just freeze.

Just give me this. Three more hours like this. Three more years.

But of course we’re expecting guests, so I can’t pretend the world doesn’t exist.

I bury my face in his chest one more time.

I try to slip out of his arms, but the second I move, Gio clamps down on m and drags me straight back into his chest.

“Five more minutes, baby, please… I’m begging.”

He mutters it while asleep.

I burst out laughing.

He’s so stupidly sweet in the morning I don’t know if I want to cry or punch him from how soft he gets.

Unfortunately, those five minutes pass like one.

And then we’re all in the bathroom, all five of us, brushing our teeth.

I’m trying to do Antonio’s teeth first so I don’t panic doing mine later.

Gio just leans on the sink, staring at us.

“What?” I ask, suspicious.

He just shrugs. Nothing else.

I smile back, because I’m weak.

When we’re done, we head to the kitchen.

Gio makes breakfast for Antonio, and I make breakfast for both of us.

“Antonio, are you excited to see Bianca again?” I ask.

Antonio literally giggles while chewing on a toy car.

He nods. He’s in love already. I can’t handle this.

The last time we saw Bianca at the playground, SHE TRIED TO KISS OUR SON.

BIANCA. THREE YEARS OLDER AND FEARLESS.

And our son? He kissed her hand. He actually kissed her hand.

When I asked him how he knew to do that, he shrugged and said, “Daddy does it to you all the time.”

I almost cried in the middle of the slide tunnel.

But I had to be strong.

Gio gives him the best examples.

Usually Antonio forgets everything ten seconds after it happens, but sometimes?

Sometimes stuff sticks. And that terrifies me.

After we eat and finish the dishes, Gio leans into me. “Is this a normal couple coming… or am I gonna want to slit my wrists?”

I laugh. “They’re very nice,” I tell him. “Bianca’s mom is… a tiny bit snobby, I think? But her dad? Super friendly. One of the friendliest dads I’ve ever met. And I’ve met a lot. I’m a teacher.”

The doorbell rings. Right on cue.

I head over and open the door.

Bianca’s mom is holding her, all dressed up in a tiny pink sweater.

Her dad stands behind them, smiling.

“Hi!” I say, and immediately crouch to Bianca’s level. “Hi, pretty lady! How are you?”

She plays with her hair and murmurs, “Good,” with the tiniest smile.

I greet her parents, look over my shoulder.

Gio looks… terrified.

That is literally the word.

Terrified.

I gesture for him to come say hello.

He walks over awkwardly, shakes Bianca’s mom’s hand normally, then turns to the dad.

And freezes for half a second.

“Nice to meet you!!” the dad says, overly excited.

He grabs Gio’s hand with BOTH his hands.

And shakes it. Multiple times.

“I’m Carlo!”

Gio nods stiffly. “…Gio.”

Jesus Christ. What is Gio doing?

He’s acting like he’s never seen human beings before.

I feel secondhand embarrassment.

“Come in, please,” I tell them, leading them to the living room.

“We wanted to bring something,” Carlo says, “but we didn’t know what to get!”

Before I can answer, Gio throws his hands up. “Oh no, no, don’t worry! Seriously. It’s fine. Totally fine. It’s all good.”

WHAT IS HE DOING.

Why is he like this.

I smile awkwardly at them like please don’t judge us, he’s usually only like this during full moons.

“Do you want ice cream?” Gio blurts out. “We have ice cream. In the other fridge. Rava, come help me.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply.

He just stares at me expectantly.

I turn to apologize to the couple, but Bianca’s mom waves a hand. “No, no, go ahead!!! We’re fine!!!” she says, smiling way too hard.

I head toward the kitchen after Gio, already preparing myself mentally.

Because clearly… SOMETHING is very wrong with him.

He drags me into the other room.

Closes the door softly, and then pins me against it.

His hands go to his waist. Then his face. Then his head.

What the hell??

“Do you wanna tell me what’s going on?” I whisper.

“I don’t know if I can,” he whispers back.

Oh, great. Now I’m scared.

“Gio… if you don’t like them just say it. But I don’t get it. You’re seeing them for the first time in your life.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Only it’s not the first time.”

… “…What?”

He grabs my shoulders.

“Rava. That man is gay.”

My jaw drops.

I stare at him.

Then I laugh because obviously he’s lost his mind.

“Are you okay? He’s literally here with his wife and child.”

Gio keeps staring at me like I’m the delusional one.

He exhales dramatically.

“Rava… that man is gay. VERY gay.”

“Are you insane?” I’m still laughing but now it’s a whisper. “He has a WHOLE wife with him. And even if he didn’t, how can you just say that? He doesn’t even look—”

“WAKE UP,” Gio whisper-yells. “Do I look gay? No. And I’m gay down to the bone!”

Okay. Fair point. I accept that one.

“So…” I ask slowly. “How do you know he’s gay?”

Gio freezes.

He looks down. Then to the right. Then to the floor.

“…Gio?” I bend to catch his eyes again. “Did you two… do something?”

Silence. Dead silence.

“Well…” he finally says.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna VOMIT.” I cover my face with both hands.

We both sit down on the edge of the counter with our hands on our hips like two exhausted parents.

“Well, this is awkward,” I say.

“I WAS NINETEEN!!” he snaps. “And we didn’t even have sex, we just—”

I smack his shoulder. “I don’t wanna know?! Shut up. Ew. I’m gonna throw up.”

I run my hand through my hair.

“So what? They have a lavender marriage? Is that where we’re at?”

Gio shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know.”

Oh my God…

Why did I try to be a good person and invite people over? Why?

Why did I do this to myself?

I have a man in my living room who probably had Gio’s dick in his mouth.

I’m going to cry.

“Listen,” Gio says, putting his hands on my shoulders again. “I don’t care. I’ll act like I don’t know him. I also can’t wait for him to leave. The problem is him.”

“Whatever, let’s go,” I sigh. “We’ll figure it out later. If we take any longer, they’re gonna think we went to milk a cow to make the ice cream from scratch.”

He laughs. I grab the door handle, take one deep breath, and pray to every god available because this is already the most uncomfortable social situation I’ve ever lived through.

I breathe in through my nose, out through my mouth, trying SO hard not to let the jealousy crawl out of my pores.

I won’t be dramatic. Much.

Because yeah, it’s absolutely disgusting thinking about Gio doing anything with someone else.

Even if it was years ago. Even if he was nineteen. Even if we’re married now.

But exactly. We’re married. I’m his present. I’m his future. He’s stuck with me forever.

So let CARLO be the one to choke on jealousy today.

We walk back out with the ice cream, and I set the bowl down.

Fake smile on.

“Homemade ice cream?” Carlo laughs, turning to his wife. “You could never.”

I flash her a pity look. Woman… run.

And Carlo? Choke on it. With love.

I bring spoons and little cups, everyone takes some, and I swear he’s looking at Gio like he’s dessert.

It’s actually disgusting.

I feel my blood temperature rise by ten degrees.

Then he squints at Gio.

“Wait… I think I know you, right?”

I glance at Gio. He’s eating like nothing is wrong.

“Yeah,” he says. “We met at a festival one summer when I came to Italy.”

“Ohhh YEAH!!” Carlo yells. “You’re the Spain guy! Do you still have that tattoo?”

…

The audacity. In OUR living room? In OUR marriage? In front of ME?

I’m the husband, hello???

Gio wipes his mouth. “That one I did that day on my arm? No. I removed it.”

Oh.

Okay. That’s… fine.

That was the tattoo he meant.

Not the OTHER one.

I breathe. I focus. Do not cry.

Do not punch Carlo. Not in front of the kids.

“Do you two… know each other?” I ask, drilling a hole into Carlo’s forehead with my eyes.

“We talked a few times back then. Honestly, Gio, you look exactly the same. Life really said ‘nope’ when it was time to make you look older.”

…

I swear to God I almost levitate out of my body.

THE FLIRTING??? IN MY FACE???

Gio coughs awkwardly. “Let’s not talk about me,” he says. “How did you two meet?”

Bianca’s mom brightens immediately. “Oh! It’s really funny actually. We met in a bookstore! I was buying this cheesy romance novel and Carlo came over to recommend another one. And he knew ALL the tropes and all the authors, it was adorable.”

He was probably looking for gay fiction.

“We actually weren’t even supposed to date at first!” she says, laughing. “His family kept telling him it was ‘time to settle down,’ and we hung out a few times, and we clicked. Then I found out I was pregnant much earlier than expected, so everything happened fast.”

…

I stare at her. I stare at Carlo. I stare back at her.

I’m gonna jump out the window.

The poor woman has NO idea. None.

She’s smiling like her life is a rom-com when her husband is currently giving mine heart eyes and gay Morse code from across my damn living room.

Girl. Wake up. Please. I’m begging you.

Your husband wants my husband.

I glance at Carlo and he’s nodding along with her story like “haha yes babe totally, that’s exactly how it happened,” while ALSO checking out Gio’s shoulders every five seconds.

Disgusting. Vile.

I want to shake her shoulders and scream, YOU THINK YOU CLICKED???

No babe, he clicked with men, he just legally committed to you.

God, I feel bad for her.

Gio taps the couch beside him. A little “come closer” gesture with his fingers that lowkey says save me before I strangle him.

I slide closer and he immediately hooks his arm around my waist.

He smiles at them. “What a sweet story,” he says.

The wife beams. “I know! It’s CRAZY that you two know each other. Did you hang out a lot back then?”

“No.” “Yes.”

They answer at the same time.

Gio said the no. Carlo said the yes.

“No, we didn’t hang out,” Gio corrects quickly. “I was living in Spain that year.”

Yeah. You didn’t hang out.

You just exchanged bodily fluids.

If I scream, will anyone stop me?

The wife nods, and there’s this weird silence where everyone looks at anything except each other.

She claps her hands suddenly. “So! Rava! You’re a teacher, right?”

I smile, relieved to have a normal topic.

“Yes! I honestly love my job. I’d love to have Bianca as a student someday. I’d take really good c—”

“Well how are YOU two even together?” Carlo cuts in, laughing.

“No offense! You guys have completely different minds. Total opposites. Like day and night.”

…

How does he know Gio’s mind? Why does he THINK he knows Gio’s mind?

I swallow the urge to throw the ice cream bowl at him.

The wife elbows him lightly. “Carlo, stop.”

I force a smile. “I’m not sure what you mean by that, Carlo,” I say, sweet but sharp.

“We actually have a LOT in common. And we have… a really, really good time together. Promise.” I add, sliding my hand over Gio’s knee for effect.

“And honestly, I think what’s saved us as a couple is that we don’t have secrets. None. I know all of his secrets. And he knows all of mine.”

Gio tightens his arm around my waist.

Carlo nods.

These were the most uncomfortable hours of my entire life.

I swear. Pure torture.

Every time I looked at Carlo’s face, my brain instantly replayed images I did NOT ask for, like some cursed slideshow.

And I hate it.

I hate that I can’t stop my imagination.

I know I shouldn’t react like this, he had every right to have a life.

He was nineteen, in another country, I wasn’t even a thought in his mind.

He didn’t know what future was coming.

Neither did I.

But now that we’re married? Now that he’s mine? Yeah, it makes sense that thinking about Gio with someone else makes me want to curl up and scream into a pillow.

And obviously I don’t blame him.

He didn’t know I was gonna randomly bring his past to our doorstep.

I didn’t know who I was inviting into my home either.

Nobody warned me.

There wasn’t a label on him saying “Hi! I’ve licked your husband!”

Hours finally crawl by, and it’s time for them to leave.

Thank God.

If they stayed any longer, I’d develop a stress rash.

We’re at the door and Bianca’s mom smiles. “You two are honestly the sweetest. I’d love for us to meet again, let the little ones keep growing their little romance.”

Yeah. No.

Absolutely not.

I’m not planning on becoming in-laws with my husband’s ex-situationship.

Bianca can be Antonio’s sweet little friend, sure, but wife?

Over my dead, burned body.

Then Carlo picks up Antonio. Antonio giggles.

Carlo does this little baby-talk thing with him.

Then he hands Antonio to Gio in this soft, slow way.

Ew. Ew ew ew. You wish.

I literally feel my skin crawl.

We wave, and shut the door behind them.

Gio bends down to Antonio’s level, brushing his fingers through his hair. “Alright, bean, go inside and start picking up your toys, okay? I’ll come help you in a minute.”

Antonio looks up at both of us. “We’re… not gonna play together?”

Gio laughs. “Of course we will. I’m in the mood to play. Just wait for us, okay?”

Antonio nods and runs off.

The moment the kid disappears down the hall, Gio turns to me and shoves me.

Hard.

“Hey—what are you—”

Before I can finish, he pushes me onto the couch and body-slams himself on top of me.

His arms are now wrapped fully around my waist, right under my back, squeezing tight.

His head drops onto my stomach.

“I’m so sorry, Ravioli,” he mumbles into my shirt. “I feel awful.”

I slide my fingers into his hair, stroking the back of his head again and again.

“Gio,” I whisper, “don’t apologize for having a life before me. I don’t blame you. Even if it’s… gross. Very gross.”

He groans dramatically and buries his face deeper into my stomach.

“I know, but still. That was so awkward. And I felt so uncomfortable for you the whole time.”

“Me too,” I admit. “But we didn’t know. Neither of us did. It just… happened. We ran into him by chance.”

My hand keeps moving through his hair. He melts into it.

“Please don’t ever invite him again,” Gio mutters.

“Fuck no. The audacity alone was enough. Never again.”

“Great,” he sighs. “Now let’s go play with our son.”

“Agreed,” I say, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “Let’s go be normal parents again.”

---

Hey guys, I’m exhausted after this chapter. I wrote the whole thing non-stop from the moment I posted the announcement. I’m gonna draw now. I’m drawing Gio’s body 😼 and then I’ll do Rava again! Something related anyway, I’ll see.

Also,

if you’ve noticed, the writing style I’ve developed is kind of raw. I wanted it to feel real, for you to see their thoughts exactly as they happen.

If it ever feels like too much, please tell me, okay?

I don’t want it to come off as annoying! And if you’d prefer something more ‘professional,’ you can tell me that too!

That’s all I LOVE YOU GUYS BYE!❤️

12) Christmas Trip Pt. 1

Alright! So this little trip is getting split into a bunch of mini-chapters, each one with its own vibe🎄

One of them is gonna be… well… Gio and Rava alone in their room :)

It’s gonna be chaotic as hell and I’m gonna try to make it really funny and cute :)

Rava’s POV

Why did no one tell me Lorenzo owns a whole damn chalet in Trentino?!

“I swear I didn’t know he had a vacation house,” I say to Gio while stuffing a fire truck into the toy bag.

“You did know,” he shoots back instantly. “You were drunk when we talked about it. Where do you think he lived before moving here?”

…Oh. Right. I nod like an idiot. “Makes sense. Didn’t think about it.”

Lorenzo invited all of us to spend Christmas at his place in Trentino because our parents ditched us for some business trip in Spain.

And we have never stayed under one roof like this.

Me. Gio. Antonio. Lorenzo. Marco. Noah. Daisy. Valentina. Jin.

AND the pets. Lorenzo’s hamsters, Lulu, and Blu.

I’m not exaggerating, I’m terrified.

This sounds like a documentary about house chaos waiting to happen.

One thing I am excited about? Cooking. Cooking for a whole group.

Finally trying all the recipes I’ve been saving. I live for this.

I throw on my jacket, then crouch to help Antonio into his.

Gio starts laughing immediately.

“Antonio, you look like a little basketball with that puffy coat, you know that?”

I whip my head toward him, mouth hanging open while I wrap my arms protectively around Antonio.

“You’re making fun of our baby? SHAME ON YOU.”

We both crack up, and Gio scoops Antonio into his arms.

“You happy to see snow for the first time?” he asks.

Antonio nods so hard his hood flops forward.

My baby. He’s never seen snow. He’s so tiny. I might actually cry.

We hear Noah’s horn from three streets away. I swear, I can identify that man’s car just from how aggressively he honks and in what rhythm.

They wanted all of us to leave together, with Lorenzo leading the way so we don’t get lost during the three-hour ride.

I’m carrying Antonio on one hip, his bag on the other arm, AND Blu’s leash.

Gio… is carrying everything else. Like a mule. With Lulu draped over his shoulder like a diva scarf.

I knock on Noah’s window. He rolls it down while he and Marco are full-on dancing to Pitbull like they’re in a Miami club. They’re insane.

“Hello, Fontana family,” Noah sings.

Valentina’s in the backseat, relaxing like a queen.

Gio leans in. “Open the back window, I wanna ask Valentina something.”

Oh no. Here we go.

Noah presses the button, the window drops, and Gio bends down.

“Hi.”

Valentina laughs immediately. “Yes, Gio. I did everything. I drank my water, I ate real food, I took my vitamins, I didn’t lift anything heavy, I slept, I breathed, I didn’t touch coffee, I didn’t get stressed, nothing exploded, you can relax.”

I’m dying. Gio’s dying. She roasted him in one breath.

“Uhhh… that’s not what I was gonna say?” Gio mutters.

“Oh? Then what were you gonna say?” she teases.

Gio looks around like he’s searching for an excuse in the air molecules.

“I wanted to ask if you, um, still have that game on your phone? That we played the other day…”

“…Sudoku?!”

“YES. Yeah. That. Whatever. I just remembered. Bye.”

I’m laughing as we walk toward Lorenzo and Daisy’s car. Absolute chaos already.

“AYYYYY!” Lorenzo yells from the driver’s seat. “FINALLY. You’re done. Thank God. Will you leave Antonio with me so I have someone to talk to? Daisy’s gonna be puking every five minutes.”

Daisy holds up a peace sign and giggles. She’s so cute.

“I’m not enough for you, you idiot?” Jin says, nudging Lorenzo’s shoulder as he gets in.

“Bro, you’re on your phone so much I forget you exist sometimes,” Lorenzo fires back.

“Shut up,” Jin says. “I’m invested in a book.”

“You’re gonna finish it later,” Lorenzo snaps. “If you get carsick and throw up in my car, I’m throwing you out on the highway.”

Jin rolls his eyes. “I won’t get carsick if YOU don’t drive like a championship racer.”

“You think I drive like a championship racer?” Lorenzo side eyes him, smiling.

Daisy groans. “Oh my god. Shut up, both of you. Lorenzo, baby, I’ll talk to you. I’m fine. Don’t rely on Jin. He’s useless. But yes, please, can we keep Antonio? Please?”

She does the little prayer-hands thing.

Gio goes, “Okay. But if I see Lorenzo speeding, I’m pulling him out at a red light and beating his ass.”

“OoOOooOO,” Lorenzo taunts. “Keep talking.”

Gio flicks his forehead. Hard.

“OW.”

We actually leave Antonio in their car, God help them, and head to ours with Lulu and Blu trailing behind us.

After fighting for our LIVES to stuff all the bags in the trunk, we finally collapse into our seats and blast the heat.

I turn to look at Gio with this stupid soft smile and he immediately squints at me.

“Where are your glasses?”

Oh. Right.

“Aaaaa I left them on the nightstand by the door! I’m sorry!”

He sighs like a tired dad and sprints out to get them.

I didn’t even notice. I was too busy trying not to forget half our stuff and also not lose Antonio in the process.

He comes back, shuts the door, and instead of handing me the glasses… he puts them on me himself.

Then he leans in and kisses me. Soft.

Then steals another one. And another. And another.

I’m laughing into his mouth while he starts the engine.

Moments like this… I don’t know.

Sometimes I look at him totally out of nowhere and think about our first days together. When I first came to Italy. How messy everything was. How confused I was. How angry I was at Sophia.

And then I remember, as pissed as I still am at her, I’m so damn glad she played me like that.

Because literally because of her I fell straight into Gio’s hands.

I went in with some stupid evil plan to make her jealous… and somehow walked out with a husband.

“What do you wanna do on the drive?” Gio asks.

I laugh. “What can we even do?”

“We can talk shit about someone,” he says instantly. “It’s been a while since we roasted people.”

I snort. “A while?! Gio, yesterday while we were cooking we spent THIRTY minutes trash-talking that mom who kept kissing her son on the mouth and saying they’re ‘meant to get married.’”

Gio shouts, “Don’t remind me, please. What was that. I’m traumatized.”

“Anyway,” I say, trying not to laugh, “I know what we can do.”

I reach into the bag on my thighs and pull out… Gio’s childhood diary.

He freezes. “NO.”

I burst out laughing. “Why not? I brought it to read to Antonio before bed!”

“Rava—” he whines.

“Come on. Just a little.”

He groans like I’m torturing him. “Fine. But you’re reading the pages AFTER I left Italy. You’re not reading only the pages where I bully you.”

“Okay, okay,” I say. “I like the Spain pages. You’re sweet in those.”

His ears go pink.

I flip open the notebook. The pages crack a little. The handwriting is tiny, chaotic, pure Gio.

Time to ruin his peace for the next three hours.

Ι flip to a random page, and the first thing I see hits me right in the chest.

Hi.

I know I didn’t write in this stupid thing for long. My dad died and we had to go all the time to court and police and hospital. Now I live in Spain. Everything is ugly here.

My stomach drops a little.

I glance at Gio.

“…Maybe I’ll skip this one,” I mumble. “Let’s go to a different day? When you’re older?”

He nods quickly.

I turn the page. “AHA. This one.”

I clear my throat like I’m about to read Shakespeare.

7 January 2018

Hi again.

I have a problem. Which is weird because usually I am the one who makes problems for other people, not the one who has them. Today… it’s someone’s birthday. Someone I’ve written about a lot before. He’s turning 15 today. Ha. Even in this he’s behind me. I turned 15 three months ago.

My uncle said it would be a good idea to wish him happy birthday. Because we were classmates. Which makes me VERY mad because what does that even mean?! Just because we sat in the same classroom doesn’t mean I liked him. Whatever. They annoyed me so much that… fine. I said happy birthday.

But… from a fake account. I didn’t want him to know it was me. I just made a fake account and wrote ‘happy birthday rava.’ Nothing else.

I hope he didn’t know it was me.

If anyone asks, I’ll show them the message. I was nice. Too nice actually. I even sent him a funny picture of a dog. It was actually funny and he BETTER have laughed. Here in Spain I have no one to mess with.

I miss my friends. I’m kinda alone. I keep mixing up people and calling kids by my old friends’ names, and one day I thought I saw Rava and I almost yelled ‘RAVIOLI’ like an idiot at school.

I almost embarrassed myself so bad.

Also I’m sick of people here. They talk weird Spanish and I don’t understand half of it. One boy tried to correct my accent today and I almost punched him. He said I sound ‘cute.’ I am NOT cute. I want to look terrifying. People need to understand that.

I went to check Rava’s profile today. Not because I care, but… I was just bored and the WiFi here is trash and his name was the only one I remembered fast. Cause it’s… easy.

Ravaravaravaravaravaravaravarava.

He posted a birthday picture. He looked happy.

Whatever. Good for him I guess. He had friends in the comments. Like… actual people talking to him. And he looks taller. You’re literally doing it on purpose. What are you trying to be?

A lamppost?

I could comment something too but no. I’m not desperate. I already sent the dog photo. That was enough kindness for the whole year.

Okay… I’m done writing because this pencil fucking sucks and my hand hurts and I’m hungry.

Bye.

–Gio

…

I’m crying laughing at this point. “I swear, I will never get tired of these. You were so funny. You were also an idiot.”

Gio groans. “Thanks.”

“No, seriously,” I say, wiping my eyes. “Your fake profile? The one you used to message me? It had a MOTORCYCLE as the profile picture. A motorcycle, Gio. Very smooth. Super subtle. No way I’d guess it was you.”

He slams his hand on the steering wheel. “Oh my god, leave me alone. Did you actually know? Just from that?”

“Yes?! You were such a little dumbass.”

“Rava, stop,” he mutters. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

He glances at me, pretending to be annoyed, but his ears are red.

“You have my last name now anyway.”

I lift my head and grin at him, warm and stupidly in love. “And I’m proud of it.” I say, still laughing.

---

HEEY okay listen my plan for this trip is sick. I wanna make them so many stuff like cooking, ice skating maybe?! Decorating the christmas tree, I wanna make lorenzo lose his hamster at 3AM and ask for help, I want some secret silent boombayah 😼

Please add stuff if you want :)

ALSO you should read my divas story,

urfavoritelesbian04 I love her :)

Anyway that’s all BYEBYE GUYS I LOVE YOU❤️ On my way to rewrite chapter 31

13) Christmas Trip Pt. 2

Rava’s POV

I think we’re here.

Gio slows the car down and I blink awake.

There’s just… snow. Everywhere.

Poor guy, I don’t even know what he’s been doing this whole time. I’ve been knocked out for like two hours.

I rub my eyes. “My glasses… where—”

“Oh, yeah,” he says, reaching back. “Here. I took them off at the red light so you wouldn’t break them. I know, I know, I’m a very sweet husband, tell me something new.”

I drop my head. “I’m never complimenting you again. You need to become humble again.”

I reach for the handle. “I’m gonna go get our son—”

Click.

My door locks.

I turn my head slowly and look at him.

He’s staring straight ahead. He looks super serious.

“If you want a divorce, you can just tell me,” he says.

“WHAT?” I answer way too fast.

“You didn’t give me a kiss before trying to leave,” he says in this tiny voice.

Oh, absolutely not.

I smack his arm hard. He starts laughing.

“YOU IDIOT. I LITERALLY SHIT MYSELF FROM FEAR,” I yell, shoving him again.

He shoves me back and now we’re just pushing each other like two toddlers.

The door on my side opens and we both freeze mid–wrestle.

It’s Valentina. She’s standing there, looking at us. “Did I come too early or…?”

Gio immediately bursts out laughing.

I let go of him and fix his hair like he’s some misbehaving dog.

“Sorry about that, Valentina… He deserved it.”

“I believe you, king. Put him in his place,” she says.

We finally step out of the car.

…

Wow.

There’s snow everywhere, and I’m pretty sure it’s lightly snowing right now too.

My nose starts burning from the cold immediately, but I don’t care.

I walk over to Lorenzo’s car and immediately steal Antonio out of his seat.

I’m holding him tight against my chest as I head back toward our car. My boots are sinking deep into the snow.

He tucks his little face into my neck so it doesn’t get cold.

I’m so excited I could actually cry. He’s going to walk in snow for the first time in his life.

He’s going to play in it. He’s going to remember this.

I stop in front of Gio.

“Bean, look how much snow there is here!! Isn’t it perfect? Do you wanna play?”

Antonio just stares at it, looking… kinda scared.

Like he doesn’t trust it.

His face basically says, are we SURE this thing is safe?!

Gio opens the car door and Blu immediately launches himself out, diving straight into the snow and disappearing for a second before popping back out.

Antonio bursts out laughing. Hysterical giggles.

Gio and I just stare at him. We’ve both completely frozen.

Gio’s cheeks are bright red from the cold, and maybe a little from the way he’s looking at our son, I’m not sure.

He crouches down, scoops up a bit of snow, and lifts it up to Antonio.

“Look, baby. Hold it.”

Antonio frowns and shakes his head. “No, Daddy.”

I laugh. He’s so sweet, I can’t stand it.

Gio slides a hand to my back and gently steers us toward a cleaner patch of snow by the side.

“Antonio,” he says softly, “this thing you see here? It’s just frozen water! Little raindrops that got so cold they froze before they touched the ground. It can’t hurt you at all.”

Antonio stares at the snow, thinking way too hard for someone that tiny.

Gio chuckles. “Antonio, you like water, right?”

Antonio nods against my shoulder.

“Well, this is water too! Just super, super cold water. I promise it can’t hurt you. If it tried, I’d punch it.”

Antonio cracks up. “Punch snow?”

“Absolutely,” Gio says seriously. “I promise. Come on. Look, Dada likes the snow too.”

He puts a bit of snow in my palm.

Then he packs some into a little ball and holds it out to Antonio.

“Here. Throw it at me.”

Antonio giggles just at the thought.

He takes the snowball with both hands and throws it… with absolutely zero strength.

It doesn’t even reach Gio. It falls halfway between them.

We both lose it laughing.

“See?” Gio grins. “It’s fun! Do it again. Throw me another one.”

I make another snowball and tuck it into Antonio’s tiny hands.

He throws it, and this time Gio dramatically acts like it hits him so hard he stumbles back like he got shot.

Antonio SCREAMS laughing.

“Do you maybe want to put on warmer clothes later and come out to play snowball fight?” Gio asks him. “Hm? What do you think?”

“Yes, Dada,” Antonio says immediately. “With Maco and Lolezo.”

I laugh. “That’s it? Just Maco and Lolezo? No one else?”

He pauses, suddenly looking a bit guilty.

“We’re all gonna play together, okay?” I say quickly. “All of us. Everyone.”

His face lights up again.

“But first,” I add, “we’re going to decorate the tree. Remember how we decorated ours? Did you like it?”

“Yes! Will it have… a star?” he asks, so serious.

“Of course it’ll have a star. All trees have stars. And you’re gonna be the one to put it on top, okay?”

He nods happily.

We head back to the cars to help the others bring everything inside.

“Damn. This is all yours?!” I ask Lorenzo, staring up at the house.

“Lucky for you, yes,” he says. “Inside this house I’ve played endless hide and seek with your husband.”

I turn to Gio. “ You ? Played hide and seek?“

“Only because he forced me,” Gio mutters. “I was usually just being mysterious.”

Lorenzo snorts as he drags a bag out of the trunk. “He was not mysterious at ALL. When my mom yelled at me, she yelled at him too.”

I can’t stop the laugh that slips out.

I can see it so clearly, little Gio and little Lorenzo running around this same house, getting yelled at, hiding behind furniture…

And now he’s back. With a husband and a kid.

Daisy reaches for one of the bags and Lorenzo immediately slaps her hand away gently.

“Absolutely not. Leave it, ma’am. You are allowed to carry your water bottle. That’s it.”

Valentina moves to grab her own bag and Lorenzo whirls on her too.

“Oh my GOD. I’m surrounded by pregnant women who are desperate to carry things.”

Marco and Noah step in and scoop up all the girls’ bags, while Gio and Lorenzo are already walking ahead with like five more each.

Noah’s already out of breath. “Girl, what the fuck did you pack? I swear there are ROCKS in here.”

“If you need something and I have it,” Valentina says sweetly, “I’m not giving it to you. I hope you suffer.”

“I love you too, girl,” Noah replies.

We finally make it to the front door.

Lorenzo starts fighting with the lock.

We all stand there in a line, just watching.

Gio is still holding three bags and Lulu’s carrier.

We wait.

We keep waiting.

“Give me the damn key, Lorenzo,” Gio says eventually.

He snatches it from his hand, turns it once, and the door opens instantly.

We all walk inside.

The house is actually insanely big.

And it has that winter vibe, dark walls, random stuff on every surface.

It’s crowded but cozy.

I already love it. I don’t even need to see the rest.

Gio comes up behind me, wraps his arms around my waist and presses a very very happy kiss to my cheek.

“I can’t believe you’re standing inside this house,” he says quietly. “I never thought you’d see it. Who would’ve told me.”

I laugh. “Don’t talk to me. I’m sure you’ve talked shit about me in here when you were younger.”

“Don’t even start,” he says. “I literally wrote about you in my diary while I was here.”

I smile like an idiot.

Lorenzo wipes his forehead dramatically and walks over.

“Alright. Let’s go find everyone’s rooms, people. Come on, move, move, look alive.”

He marches down the hallway and we all follow like a tour group.

I actually laugh to myself because that’s exactly what we look like, tired tourists with luggage.

“So,” he says, stopping in front of a door. “This room right here is for the poor young couple with the child.”

“Amen,” Gio mutters.

“Yes,” Lorenzo nods, then keeps going.

“Right next door, Jin’s going, because he’s alone and this is the smallest room.”

Jin gapes. “Oh, great. So you’re putting me next to the horny, out-of-control couple, in the SMALLEST room, AND you’re calling me ‘alone’? Thanks so much, Lorenzo. Really feel the love, man.”

I turn around, offended on instinct. “What kind of attack was that? What did we do to you?!”

Jin laughs. “Rava, you’re lucky you have a child. I could’ve said MUCH worse.”

I face forward again. “If he starts crying, I’m bringing him straight into your room.”

“I’ll stay in your room on purpose,” Jin shrugs. “I’ll ruin the mood and you will not be able to do anything. You will be miserable, like me.”

“I’m still gonna do what I’m gonna do whether you’re in the room or not, you can watch if you want,” I reply.

Noah absolutely loses it behind us.

Lorenzo raises his voice over the chaos. “Anyway, moving on from the argument between these siblings about who’s allowed to be present during the… reproduction of human life—”

“BRO WHAT REPRODUCTION OF LIFE, WHAT ARE YOU EVEN SAYING?” Gio shouts, and at this point we’re all gone.

I gently cover Antonio’s ears.

Marco, I’m not even sure is breathing. His face is bright red from laughing and he’s hiding it in his hands.

“ANYWAY,” Lorenzo yells. “Shut up. Across the hall, that’s where me and my wife will be. Here.”

He taps the door.

“If you need ANY help, at ANY time, no matter what happened… you knock on Rava’s door. Not mine.”

Oh.

Marco collapses again and so do I.

“Thank you, Lorenzo,” I say. “Thank you for the trust.”

“You’re welcome,” Lorenzo says, waving us off. “Marco and Noah will take the last room, all the way at the end.”

“HEY, why are we alone?!” Marco complains.

“Because you two never shut up, you’re always talking and laughing and you’ll ruin our sleep,” Lorenzo answers, completely serious.

Noah dramatically throws himself onto Marco and they hug. “They don’t deserve us, baby.”

“And finally,” Lorenzo continues, “Valentina gets the big room next to ours. With its OWN bathroom.”

Valentina throws her hands up. “Thank you, guys. My bladder has defeated me as a human being.” She and Daisy high-five.

“Alright,” Lorenzo claps. “Everyone go to your rooms, get settled, because in a bit we’re going out for groceries. Who’s cooking?”

“ME.” I yell before I even realize my hand’s in the air.

“Dada!” Antonio squeals, lifting his little hand too.

Daisy swoops in and takes him. “Oh I’m gonna EAT you, tiny boy, I love you so much, you love your auntie, right? You love her?? Yes, you do, yes you DO— come with me, I brought toys.”

She disappears with him.

“Goodbye everyone,” Gio says instantly, grabs my wrist, drags me into our room, and shuts the door behind us.

I don’t even have time to smile.

He pins me straight against the door and kisses me everywhere.

Everywhere.

My mouth, my cheeks, my neck, his hands are everywhere too, and mine are doing the exact same thing back.

He smiles against my lips and I bite his lip piercing just to tease him.

Then he pulls me by the hand and we both fall back onto the bed, lying on our backs on this HUGE ridiculously soft mattress.

He tugs me on top of him and slides his hands up and down my waist.

I laugh. “Why are you hard already?”

“Oh, it’s not just today,” he says. “It’s been a week, remember? I feel like my balls are gonna explode.”

I bury my face in his neck, laughing.

Maybe I do this too often with him. Maybe that’s why Antonio does it now. Mini copycat.

I start kissing Gio’s neck softly and his hands slide down, grab my ass, squeeze.

“Maybe we actually have time tonight,” I whisper. “I’ll ask Daisy to keep Antonio. You’re not the only one who feels like he’s gonna explode.”

“Great,” Gio says, pulling me in tighter. “She better take him, because I need you so bad I might cry.”

I laugh and kiss his jaw.

“I’m glad you still feel like that,” I say. “Because if you told me ‘oh now that we’re parents there’s no time, I’m not in love anymore blah blah,’ I would slap you into the wall. Not even kidding.”

He bursts out laughing.

Seeing him laugh makes me laugh too. His smile is stupidly beautiful.

“What do you mean still?” he says. “Sometimes I look at you and wonder how the hell I got this lucky.”

I turn my head away. “Yeah, okay, sure. Like you actually say that.”

“I SWEAR,” he says, sitting up. “I say it all the time. I can’t get tired of you. It scares me.”

“Well, I can’t get tired of you either,” I admit. “So I guess that’s a good sign.”

He grins at me. “So… we have a date tonight? Right here?”

I laugh at the way he says it. “Yes. We have a date. Right here. On this bed.”

He smirks. “What’s the dress code?”

“The less, the better.”

“Got it,” he says immediately.

And I swear, why do I have butterflies arranging a date with my already husband??

---

Okay stay with me for a bit.

First of all, RIDE OR DIE IS CURRENTLY AT 2.99M READS!!!!! I’m gonna explode. I swear it hit 2 million the day I uploaded the proposal, HOW DID TIME GO BY THIS FAST???

Also.

There are some REALLY really good chapters coming soon, I’m so excited :)))

ALSO am I the only one who visualizes everything while reading? Like I literally have the whole chapter playing as a movie in my head right now and it’s perfect.

That’s all I had to say.

BYEBYE GUYS I LOVE YOU SO MUCH❤️

14) Christmas Trip Pt. 3

Gio’s POV

I have a date tonight.

A date. With my husband.

I swear to God, I want to jump on this giant chalet bed and scream.

I love Antonio. Don’t get me wrong.

I adore him. He is literally everything, all the stars glued together with baby drool.

I would die for him. No-scratch that.

I’d live for him, even if I wanted to die .

I would literally kill for him. I would do anything for him.

BUT.

Every single time, and I mean EVERY time I try to have even one moment with Rava?

It’s like Antonio senses the horny molecules in the air.

My hand slips inside Rava’s pants?

Suddenly, “Daddy I’m thirsty!” Or “Dada I pee!” Or “Daddy I need to play IMMEDIATELY!”

And I don’t blame him.

He doesn’t see us, he’s not doing it on purpose, he’s literally a baby with needs.

But I ALSO have needs.

EXTREME needs.

Needs that are currently ruining my physical health.

No one knows what it’s like to see Rava’s ass every day, walking around the house with that innocent little bounce, and not being able to do a single thing except stare at it.

It’s torture. Actual torture.

And yes, I like torture, but in bed. Where I can reach him and do things to him.

But we don’t even make it TO the bed these days.

So yeah. I’m excited for tonight. Dangerously excited.

But I need to calm the hell down for now.

Lorenzo and Marco walk in, carrying this giant-ass cardboard box that I’m hoping is the Christmas tree and not a dead body.

Valentina brings a huge bag into the living room and drops it with a thud.

“What’s that?” I ask.

She gives me the “wait and see” finger.

Opens the bag.

And starts pulling out… Santa hats. Dozens. Different sizes. Different stupid little pompoms.

I burst out laughing.

“I’m not wearing that,” I tell her.

Antonio IMMEDIATELY grabs two and hands them to me and Rava.

Okay. Fine. I take it back. I’m Santa today.

I look around the room because I swear I’m about to freeze to death.

“Seriously? Big-ass house and you don’t have the heating on? We’re gonna die, man,” I say to Lorenzo, pointing at the snowstorm outside.

“That AC hasn’t been cleaned since you were in elementary school,” he says. “If I turn it on, it’ll release diseases they haven’t discovered yet. Shut up and open the space heaters. We have like five. Sit on them if you have to.”

“You still keep them where I remember?” I ask.

“Yes. Go get them.”

Noah comes with me.

“Bro, what is this? It’s like we’re in 1970,” I mumble.

Noah shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. It’s kinda cute. We have like… cozy old-vibe energy.”

We drag a heater out and the second we turn it on, EVERYONE jumps toward it.

“I’m here too, move!!” Rava yells.

I grab his hand through the chaos and pull him closer to the heat source, and we all sit around it.

We look like campers waiting for the wolves to show up.

It’s actually hilarious.

“Don’t you have blankets or something?” Marco asks.

“I do,” Lorenzo says. “They’ve been sealed in my closet since before Christmas existed and I’m not opening it. I don’t trust whatever’s living inside.”

Antonio suddenly leaves my arms and goes straight to Rava, climbing into his lap.

Traitor. Thief.

Rava sticks his tongue out. Antonio hugs him tighter.

Lorenzo lets out a dramatic moan. “The warmth is revitalizing,” he says. “Let’s sit here for a bit and then decorate the tree.”

It hits me now how sweet this is.

All eight of us, after everything we’ve survived, just sitting here in a circle like.

Plus Antonio. Plus the pets.

Lulu waddles over and squeezes herself right into our heat-circle.

“Awwww my girl,” Daisy says, scooping her up.

Thank god Lulu’s better.

I was ready to DIE a few weeks ago when she started having health problems.

Turned out it was her food. We changed it immediately.

“Look at us, we’re so domestic, guys,” Noah announces. “A few years ago, at this exact time, Lorenzo and I would’ve been passed out somewhere from too much tequila—”

“We should recreate that,” Lorenzo adds.

“I agree completely,” Noah nods.

“And Gio and Rava would be hiding in some alley so Charles wouldn’t see them—”

“The struggle was REAL,” Rava says. “Don’t laugh! We were hiding like criminals!”

“I know, baby,” Noah says. “Legends.”

He swivels to Jin. “And Jin would be crying because Gio wouldn’t take him on the Ducati—”

Jin bursts out laughing. “Thank you, Noah. That’s true. You traumatized me, Giovanni.”

I grab him and pet his head. “It’s fine, now we go on rides together. That’s better.”

Noah continues. “Right, right. Where was I? Oh yeah. Marco would be arresting people in the morning and racing bikes at night, which is ICONIC if you ask me. Daisy would be asking 300 times if the boots she wants are cute and then buy them anyway even if we all said no—”

Daisy nods proudly. “Exactly. I ask just to figure out how I feel. Not because your opinions matter.”

Valentina laughs. “Finally, someone whose brain works as dysfunctionally as mine. That’s what I’m saying,” she says, hugging Daisy.

Noah turns to Valentina. “You… I don’t really remember what you used to do. I just remember seeing you build LEGO sets constantly.”

“I still do,” she shrugs. “LEGO is my life. Call me immature, I don’t care.”

Noah raises his hands. “I’m not calling you immature. Honestly it’s insane behavior and I respect it.”

I lift my head.

I have an idea. But I’m embarrassed to say it.

I whisper it to Rava.

He widens his eyes. “GUYS WE NEED TO DO SECRET SANTA.”

“YES. Yes. I’m in,” Marco says immediately.

“Oh my god, FINALLY, Rava, we agree on something,” Daisy claps.

Rava laughs. “It was Gio’s idea.”

I nudge him.

He laughs harder. “What? I wasn’t gonna steal your glory. I would’ve kept it secret only if everyone said no.”

Lorenzo nods. “I’m down. We’re doing it today and opening everything tomorrow. Christmas morning. Let me get paper, pens, a jar. Who’s helping?”

Rava shoots up instantly and runs after him.

Blu sprints behind them.

I watch them disappear and then turn to the others, lowering my voice.

“Guys. Listen. Rava’s birthday is coming up. I’m losing my mind. I have NO idea what gift to get him. I’m a terrible husband.”

“And I’m a terrible friend,” Noah says. “I also have no idea. The man is the most humble creature alive. He never asks for anything. I literally can’t remember ONE time he said ‘I want this.’ We’re cooked.”

We all stare at each other, thinking.

“I’m desperate,” I admit. “Every year he tells me the same thing: he wants a book. That’s it. But that’s nothing. That’s too easy. I need to outdo myself. I need to THINK. I need to be better than I am.”

Rava and Lorenzo are coming back, with their arms full of paper, pens, and this ugly-ass jar Lorenzo found somewhere.

I straighten up immediately.

Lorenzo clears his throat. “Alright. Everyone writes their name. ONE time. I repeat, ONE time, ONLY your own name. Then you throw it in the jar. If anyone picks themselves, we redo it. Again and again until everyone gets someone different.”

“Thank you for the instructions, Lorenzo,” Jin mutters.

“You’re welcome. WRITE.”

I grab my little slip of paper and write Gio in the worst handwriting ever.

Rava is holding Antonio’s tiny hand and helping him write “Rava,” and I swear my heart does a backflip.

I toss mine into the jar.

“I’m writing my full government name because I want to be unique,” Noah announces.

Jin looks at him. “I’m copying you solely to steal your uniqueness.”

We all finish and throw our names in.

Lorenzo grabs the jar and starts shaking it.

“Jesus, Lorenzo, enough, you’re not making a cocktail,” I say.

He puts it down proudly. “Alright. Pick one.”

Everyone’s already giggling. I open mine.

Great. My own name staring right back at me.

“Guys, sorry, I got myself,” I announce.

“Thankfully,” Marco says, “because I got Valentina.”

Valentina whips her Santa hat at him. “Get fucked,” she mouths.

We throw all the slips back in again.

Lorenzo shakes the jar even harder this time.

We pick again. I open mine, and smile.

I look at Noah.

Then look away like nothing happened.

I nudge Rava. “Who’d you get?”

“I’m not telling you! Go away!”

I turn to Valentina. “You?”

She sticks her tongue out. “Not telling YOU either.”

Wow. Fake friends all around.

“Did anyone get themselves?” Lorenzo asks.

Silence.

“Perfect. Done.”

“Do we have a budget?” Noah asks.

“No,” Lorenzo says. “No one is stopping you from buying me a house.”

“That’s the spirit,” Noah replies.

We all stand up, stretching.

“Is everyone happy with their picks?” Lorenzo asks.

Rava raises a brow. “Are you happy with yours?”

“I’m VERY happy,” Lorenzo says. “I can’t wait.”

“Yeah, yeah, chill, Santa Claus,” Noah mutters.

“We’ll go out shopping once the snow calms down,” Lorenzo continues. “For now, let’s make something warm to drink. My throat is freezing.”

“Mine too,” Marco says. “I’m gonna die in this house.”

I look around at all of us. This house feels like we’re filming a reality TV show.

It’s the first time I’ve lived anything like this.

I don’t have a single complaint.

Besides Lorenzo’s problematic AC.

---

GUYS LISTEN I’M SO SORRY FOR THE SHORT CHAPTER 😭 my boyfriend’s coming over and I don’t have time to write more. He’s amazing. He knows everything about my story and keeps teasing me, asking questions about Gio and Rava 😭 Anyway. I’ll try to post tomorrow, I promise :( incredible chapters are coming, swear on it 🫶

so tell me, who do you think everyone got for Secret Santa, and what gifts would they give each other? :)))

THATS ALL BYEBYE GUYS I LOVE YOU ❤️

15) Christmas Trip Pt. 4

Rava’s POV

I pick Antonio up in my arms while everyone’s putting their shoes on and arguing about scarves.

“So,” I ask, looking around at them, “what time are we all meeting back here? I need to know how long I have to panic about my gift.”

Lorenzo checks the time and sighs. “It’s one. We’ll be back by three, max . Two hours are more than enough for you. Everyone agrees?”

“No,” Noah says immediately. “I don’t. What happens if I don’t agree?”

“You’ll sit outside the house. Locked out. No gift, no food, nothing. That’s what happens.”

Noah nods slowly. “Noted.”

“Alright. Everyone goes alone,” Lorenzo adds. “We good? Let’s go.”

We all nod and step out of the house, scattering in different directions.

I hold Antonio tighter and take a deep breath.

I’m ready to see weapons, dildos, horses, lizards, fish, cucumbers, I don’t know.

I’m scared.

---

Lorenzo’s POV

I am a fucking genius.

Like actually. Sometimes I scare myself with how powerful my tiny brain is.

I push the door open and I walk into the sex shop, smiling.

“Buongiorno,” I tell the guy at the counter.

He looks at me. I look at him.

He’s judging me. I know he’s judging me.

He definitely did not expect a man with this much enthusiasm on his face to walk in here.

He probably thinks I’m insane.

Or a pervert? Or both, maybe.

I start walking around and it’s just… heaven.

Lingerie EVERYWHERE.

Lace, harnesses, things that tie, things that dangle, even strap on BELTS.

This guy knows.

My eyes land on one specific set with ropes.

Damn.

That’s nice. That’s REALLY nice.

You know what. I can see myself in that. Should I buy it for someone else or for me?

No. Focus, Lorenzo.

You’re here for a gift. Not for your own… character development.

Nah. Who cares? I’ll take two.

I walk further in and stop dead in front of a whole wall of dildos.

Cristo santo. We’ve got the entire rainbow here.

Long, short, fat, skinny, neon, pastel.

This wall has more personality than half the people I’ve met.

Now I have a problem.

How the fuck am I supposed to pick one?

They all deserve love. Look at them. All lined up. Ready to serve. My children.

I feel someone bump my shoulder.

I turn.

“Jin?? What the fuck are you doing here, little guy?”

He shrugs. “Same thing you’re doing.”

He looks around casually at the wall of dicks.

“Who did you get?” I ask him.

“Not telling you, gossip gremlin.”

“Fine. I’m not telling you mine either.”

“Didn’t ask,” he says.

Little shit.

We’re now in aisle three of this gloriously perverted wonderland together.

I swear we’ve touched everything.

Everything .

“Is this a… horse tail?” I ask.

Jin’s face goes blank. “Why does it jiggle like that?”

I shrug. “Enhances the realism, probably.”

I swing it around like a whip and almost hit a wall of vibrating eggs.

We both flinch.

Whoops.

Jin picks up a black leather harness with silver buckles and a fuckton of straps going everywhere. “You know this would actually look good on you,” he says, deadpan.

I snort. “You tryna fuck me or dress me?”

He tosses it at me. “Both.”

I hold it up to my chest. “I could rock this.”

We keep walking.

He picks up something with bunny ears.

“Is this a vibrator?” I press the button.

It starts buzzing violently in my hand. I drop it. We both shriek.

“That thing has more energy than me after six espressos,”  Jin mutters.

I look him dead in the eyes. “Want me to try it on you?”

“No?”

“Too late. Sit down.”

He shoves me.

I pick up this long-ass, glow in the dark dildo. “I dare you to take this one home.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Only if you help me test it.”

I pretend to think. “Fine. But I go first. You need to know what you’re in for.”

“Why are we like this?” he whispers.

“Because our parents didn’t hug us enough?”

We burst into laughter again.

Then we turn to the poor, unsuspecting man behind the counter.

He’s like forty.

I march over, holding a huge sparkly dildo.

“Quick question,” I say, dead serious. “Do you think this is good for a friend who’s into… you know… rougher stuff?”

The guy raises an eyebrow. “How rough are we talking?”

Jin leans on the counter. “Hair-pulling, name-calling, gets offended if you don’t slap him kind of rough.”

The guy nods. “Okay. So not beginner level.”

“No, no, “ I say. “He broke a headboard once.”

“Got it.” He walks us over to another shelf.

“This one’s got more girth, but less flexibility,” he says, holding something massive.

Jin tilts his head. “Define girth. Like, scientifically.”

He whips out a measuring tape.

I SWEAR TO GOD.

We all gather around like it’s a family heirloom. “That’s… a lot,” I whisper. “That’s a commitment.”

The guy nods. “This one’s called the Destroyer.”

Jin claps. “I love that. Sounds like a Viking.”

I’m wheezing.

Eventually, I spot it.

The one.

It’s even more shiny. And big. Hot pink. And glossy.

“Wrap it,” I say. “I’m buying that majestic bastard.”

At the register, I pull out my wallet, still giggling under my breath.

The guy squints at me. “Wait a minute… aren’t you Siena’s son?”

Fuck.

“Uhhhh,” I say, gripping the counter. “As in… Siena…?”

“Siena Fontana. Red hair?”

“Ohhh no, no. Different Siena. Not my mom. Never met her. Hope she’s well.”

He stares at me for a second longer.

I stare back. Pink monster dildo being scanned.

He finally shrugs. “My bad.”

I grin. “All good.”

I grab my sparkly shame and head for the exit.

“Have a sinful day!” he calls after me.

That was my mom.

---

Gio’s POV

Fuck this cold. I’m gonna die.

I’ve got an actual list on my phone with “gift ideas that match this problematic human being,” but honestly I think I should just go with my first instinct.

Tequila.

But not just tequila. It needs something. A twist. A bit more… personality. Something that screams them .

Whatever.

I’ll get the tequila first and figure it out later. How bad can it go.

I walk into the supermarket and head straight to the alcohol aisle like I’m some drunk uncle on Christmas.

Probably shouldn’t look this happy walking toward the liquor, now that I think about it.

They’re gonna assume I have a drinking problem.

Which… fair. I don’t exactly look like a choir boy.

Anyway.

I grab the bottle and head to the register.

“ID, please.”

… What the fuck.

I laugh awkwardly. “Come on. I’ve been an adult for like a decade, ma’am.”

“A boy said the same thing last week and he turned out to be seventeen,” she says. “It’s the rule, sir.”

I just stare at her.

“So you think I look seventeen?” I ask, laughing because it’s kinda funny.

“Sir. ID. I’m not in the mood for jokes.”

Fuck you. That’s what I get for being nice.

I start digging through my phone for a photo of my ID.

She’s watching me, pissed.

“What?” I snap. “I don’t carry it on me. I didn’t expect to get mistaken for a minor today.”

I find the picture and shove it at her.

Front. Back. Right in her face.

“Anything else?” she asks.

“No,” I mutter, grab the bag and walk out.

Now I have to find a… what?

A shop that sells glitter?!

Where the fuck do you even buy that?

I’m cooked.

I’m walking in circles around the shops, freezing my ass off.

I finally see this violently pink little store at the end of the street.

Like… aggressively pink.

I stop in front of the window and instantly feel people staring at me.

What??

What’s the problem now??

I could be a dad trying to buy something cute for his little girl.

Why is everyone so fucking judgmental all the time, relax.

I go inside and head straight for the counter.

“Hi… uh, do you maybe have those… tiny shiny things… that are like… stickers?”

The girl behind the register looks confused.

“Do you mean rhinestones?” she asks.

“I… don’t know. Do I?” I say. “Can I see them?”

“Yes, one moment, I’ll be right back.”

Great. I’m embarrassing myself in public for glitter.

She comes back holding these plastic sheets in her hands.

“Like these?” she says.

“YES. Yeah. That. Those. Rhinestones. Exactly.”

“Okay,” she smiles. “What colors?”

“I want a lot of the silver ones. And a few of those blue ones. How much is it?”

“Five euros for all of them.”

“Perfect. Take ten. Merry Christmas.”

I hand her the money, grab my sparkly supplies, and get out of there.

Now the issue is… how the hell am I supposed to stick all of these on the bottle?

I’m not doing it out here in the dead cold like a psychopath, so I’ll go sit in some warm café and bedazzle the shit out of this tequila.

I’m insane.

---

Valentina’s POV

I feel so dumb…

I have no idea where anything is and my map decided to die right NOW of all times!

I wonder if people here are friendly. If I tell them I’m pregnant, will they help me or just stare?

Before I can overthink it, I walk up to a girl on the street.

“Hey! Sorry to bother you… do you know if there’s a pet shop around here somewhere? I’m desperate, girl.”

She laughs, which is a good sign.

“Actually, you’re super lucky, there’s one really close. Two streets down. It’s a big green building with lots of green lights outside—you’ll recognize it instantly!”

“Perfect, you literally saved my life. Thank you!”

I start walking down, smiling like crazy to myself, because I honestly think my idea is genius.

And it’s definitely gonna cause chaos-laughter. Which is the goal.

I turn the corner and yeah, this has to be it.

It is very green.

I walk in, rubbing my hands together to warm them up. The whole place is full of aquariums with tiny little fish everywhere.

I’m gonna die. They’re so tiny and stupidly cute I want all of them.

OH MY GOD. They even have a seahorse.

I’ve never seen a seahorse in real life before. I might cry.

“Hi! How can I help you?” a girl around my age asks from behind the counter.

“Hi! Ummm, I wanted to ask if you sell hamsters… or like, small pets in general…”

“Of course! They actually just had babies recently so we’re full of little ones. You’ll have plenty of options.”

“Fantastic!” I follow her down the aisle and she stops in front of two tanks full of microscopic hamsters in all colors.

I slap my hand over my mouth. “Awwww, my babies!! They’re so tiny! Do they even know they exist??”

The girl laughs. “Honestly, I wonder that sometimes too.”

“I mean, do they have thoughts? They’re so cute,” I mumble, studying them.

Now I have to pick one. Okay.

Which one looks the most lost… the most in need of a chaotic dad?

I spot this tiny one holding a piece of food, eating it suuuper slowly.

“That one. I want that one. In the corner.”

“Perfect!” she says. “You can take it out yourself if you want.”

“Seriously?” I ask, with wide eyes.

“Yeah, of course! If you’re not scared.”

I turn back to the tank, stupidly happy.

I slide my hand in really slowly and scoop it up just as slowly.

My baby, it doesn’t even flinch. Just keeps eating like nothing’s happening.

I’m actually going to start crying over a hamster.

“Here, put it in here. Perfect!” she says, holding out a little carrier.

I place it inside and then she lets me hold the whole cage. At the register, she tells me about the food and bedding and all the other things I need. Thankfully I don’t have to remember anything myself.

“Thank you so much! Happy holidays!!”

I walk out of the pet shop in peak good mood.

“You’re getting a new home, you tiny little ball!” I whisper at the box.

---

HEEEEY I’M ALIVE. ICONIC, RIGHT?

Sorry for vanishing these past few days 😔 but I’m back now 😼 and I’m dropping another chapter tomorrow, hehe.

At the same time though, I need to work on Ride or Die AND also draw because, well, I’M CHASING A WHOLE CAREER OUT HERE :)

Sooo… what did you think of the chapter??? WE GOT OUR FIRST LORENZO POV, how did you like it??

Personally, I loved it.

THATS ALL POOKIES I LITERALLY LOVE YOU BYEBYEEEE ❤️

16) Christmas Trip Pt. 5

Okay please don’t be mean to me 😔 I haven’t written smut in over a month and I honestly don’t know if it’s that good. maybe it’s just because I wrote it without music. just… raw. no soundtrack. I don’t know.😭 also I’m on my period and I was literally dying while writing this. so please. have mercy :)

---

Gio’s POV

It’s 9:00PM.

We all bought our gifts earlier, we ate, and now we’re wrapping our shit in different corners.

While I was sitting at the café earlier, filling that tequila bottle with little sparkly crystals, I swear I felt more eyes on me than when I’m actually breaking the law.

Everyone was staring like, why is this man bedazzling alcohol at noon in Trentino?

But I did it.

And it looks so good I almost want to keep it for myself.

I’m an amazing friend. Objectively.

I crouch down to slide my gift under the tree, and at the same time Lorenzo’s putting his under there too.

I place mine next to his and he gives me the nastiest side eye.

He leans in and whispers, “Did you get anything for Antonio, you piece of shit? Or is the baby gonna sit there crying while we all open presents like we’re five?”

“Of course I got him something, idiot,” I snap. “You think I’d leave my own kid hanging?”

“Good, good,” he says. “I got him something too and dragged it here. We’ll bomb him with gifts after we’re done with ours. Gift overload.”

“Perfect.”

“Where’s Rava?” he asks.

I just smile and head back to the living room.

He’s on the couch with Valentina and Noah, all three of them squished under the same blanket with the heater in front of them.

Antonio is on the other couch, curled up in Marco’s arms.

“Shame on you,” Lorenzo yells. “You’re leaving us out.”

He launches himself onto Marco’s couch, shoves his way under the blanket, and now it’s him, Marco, and Antonio all cuddled up like a weird little family.

I walk over to Rava and wedge myself between him and Noah, stealing part of the blanket.

“Fuck, it’s freezing,” I mutter.

I pull Rava up and move him so he’s sitting in front of me, between my legs, his back against my chest.

I wrap my arms around his waist and bury my face in his neck.

I breathe him in.

God, why is tonight taking so long to get here?

I’m waiting for this date like it’s New Year’s Eve.

I’m gonna explode.

There was a time when “go to bed” felt like punishment.

Now it’s the biggest blessing of my entire life.

I start fake-yawning on purpose.

Stretching, nudging Rava a little until he gets it and shifts like he’s about to fall asleep on me.

“Bedtime, Antonio?” I ask.

“No,” Antonio says immediately.

I laugh. “Having fun with uncle Maco and Lolezo?”

He nods and curls up even more in Marco’s arms.

Marco looks like he’s about to cry.

“I want one of these too,” he mutters, then starts assaulting Antonio’s face with kisses. Antonio giggles.

“I don’t know who I’m more jealous of right now,” Noah says. “Marco or Antonio.”

“I feel like a grandpa,” Lorenzo groans. “It’s only nine and I’m tired. It’s probably cause we woke up at six in the morning. Anyway. Antonio, amore, can I ask you something?”

Antonio turns his head toward him, all serious. “Yes.”

Lorenzo bites his fist. “I’m gonna eat you alive, oh my God. Anyway. Do you cry a lot at night?”

Antonio turns back around and thinks about it. Then he starts laughing.

Rava covers his face. “Sometimes if he DOESN’T cry, I think he’s dead.”

“I bet if he sleeps with me, he won’t cry,” Marco says.

I laugh.

Noah looks at Marco. “If he cries because of you, I’m going to sleep with Gio and Rava and leave you alone.”

Antonio does not care at all. Zero reaction.

Daisy pops up out of nowhere. “Can I take him? I need to get used to the screaming. You two can sleep LIKE NORMAL HUMANS for once.”

I groan. I’ve honestly forgotten what it’s like to sleep without waking up every hour to check if he’s breathing, if he’s okay, if the world didn’t end in his sleep.

At the same time, I feel like the worst dad alive even thinking about letting someone else take him for the night.

“Antonio’s gonna look for Rava in the middle of the night,” I say. “He’s gonna cry the second he sees your face and realizes you’re not him.”

“Well…” Daisy says. “We do look kinda alike—”

Marco loses it, laughing. “OKAY, let’s ask the man himself,” he says. “Fair is fair.”

Marco stands, holding Antonio like a prize.

“Antonio, who do you want to sleep with tonight?” he asks.

Antonio looks around the room. At each of us. One by one.

Chewing on his sleeve.

Then he points… at Jin.

Who’s sitting on a chair, on his phone, not even in the conversation.

Jin slowly lifts his head, looks at all of us, with wide eyes… then starts laughing.

“Suck it!” he says. “He destroyed all of you. Effortlessly.”

He comes over and takes Antonio into his arms. “My boy. My legend. As a gift, you get two bedtime stories and one song before you sleep. And in return, you’re going to act like you love me on video call so women can see I’m a loving man.”

Rava’s jaw drops. “You’re using our child to pull women?”

“That’s right,” Jin says.

“So you’re actually taking him to your room?” I ask.

“Yeah, why not? You think I can’t handle it?”

“I don’t know… I’m a little scared.”

“Relax,” Jin says. “He won’t be far. There’s only one thin wall between our rooms. I repeat. One THIN wall only.”

He gives us this evil little look.

“Yeah, okay, we get it, you want silence,” I say.

“Good,” Jin says. “Now let’s go get ready.”

We all drag ourselves up and start getting ready for bed.

We wash our faces, brush teeth, do the whole responsible adult routine, and meet in the hallway like kids at a sleepover.

“Antonio, you’re gonna be a good boy, okay?” I tell him. “Don’t tire uncle Jin out.”

“Relax,” Jin says. “We got this. We’re an elite duo. Right, Antonio, my boy? We’re gonna have the best time.”

“You are not gonna have the best time,” I say. “He falls asleep standing up. You’re putting him to bed, that’s all.”

“Whatever you say, big guy,” Jin smirks.

They go into his room and the door closes.

A second later, Lorenzo comes out of his own room in pineapple pajamas.

“As I said,” he announces, “anything you need, ask Rava. Not me.”

“And what if I wanna know where the extra toilet paper is?” Noah asks.

“Call Rava and go search together,” he says.

“Thank you for the trust, Enzo,” Rava says. “I hope after this, a part of this house gets written under my name.”

“I’ll think about it,” Lorenzo replies. “Goodnight, children.”

“Goodnight,” I say, then immediately shove Rava gently into our room and close the door behind us.

I lock it. Twice.

I don’t even get the chance to move.

The second I lock the fucking door, he’s on me.

Literally slams into me. I stumble back a step from the force and grin against his lips because fuck yes .

That’s my boy. That’s what I want from him. That’s exactly what I want.

I grab his throat tight, and that sick fuck moans into my mouth.

Then he fists my hair like he’s trying to rip my skull off and drags me even closer, even though we’re already chest to chest.

A soft little moan escapes him and it wrecks me.

I dip to his neck, bite just below his jaw. “You gonna be quiet for me, baby?” I whisper.

His voice is dripping with lust already. “Depends how hard you keep my mouth shut.”

I swear to God.

I’m throbbing.

I yank his shirt, dragging it over his head. He helps me, arms flying up, then grabs me by the waistband and pushes me toward the bed.

No problem.

I slam him back onto it, climb over him, and trap his face between my elbows, framing him.

He’s looking up at me, and it’s so hot I almost forget to breathe.

“I need you so bad it’s making me dizzy, Rava,” I mumble against his cheek.

He grabs my waist with both hands, squeezing hard.

Then he rips my shirt over my head and lets it drop somewhere behind him.

His hands don’t stop. He’s grabbing anything he can like he can’t pick what he wants first.

“Sit back,” I mutter, already breathless. “Let me take care of you. Please.”

He smiles. “I like it when you’re desperate.”

“Good,” I whisper, my hands already on his waistband. “Because I really fucking am.”

I lock eyes with him as my fingers slide under the fabric.

He nods once, and it’s all I fucking need. I yank his pants down in one go, underwear and all.

He’s hard already. Now his knees are pulled up like he’s waiting for me.

I grip his thighs, tight. Pull him lower on the bed.

Then I spit. Right on his dick.

I stroke him, spreading it with my palm. “Shit,” I hiss. “This is already too loud.”

I grab the blanket and toss it over us in one rough move, cover his legs, his hips, his stomach.

I slide back down. Grip his thighs again. Squeeze hard. I need to feel him in my hands while I’m choking on his dick.

I start sucking him, and he gasps, surprised.

He wasn’t ready for how deep I went. My tongue’s all over him, my jaw feels sore already and I don’t give a single fuck.

I’m literally buried between his thighs, face shoved so far in I can barely breathe.

His dick is heavy on my tongue. I moan around it like a fucking slut.

Because I missed it. Every damn inch of him.

His hand slips into my hair, stroking.

He grabs a fistful and pushes down.

He moves my head up and down, up and down again.

He’s using me.

His second hand joins the first.

Both hands are holding my head like my head is his toy.

He still moves it for me, and I follow every cue, every silent command.

My lips stretch wide around the base.

“Choke harder, Gio,” he breathes.

I stare up at him, blown away.

“Maybe it’s time we get matching tattoos,” I murmur, and I continue.

I hollow my cheeks, suck harder, messier, sloppier.

He whines.

His grip tightens, and he doesn’t let me move.

My throat burns but my dick is hard as a rock and I’m fucking thrilled.

He starts fucking into my mouth. Gently at first, then rougher.

I just take it. Because this is heaven.

I pull off slow, licking my lips.

“stay quiet, baby,” I whisper, dragging the blanket higher. “Gonna take care of you.”

I reach for the lube that’s in the bag. Squirt a fat amount onto my fingers.

My fingers slide down, teasing him.

I spread him open with one hand, grab a handful of his ass with the other hand, tight, just how I like it, and I press two fingers in.

His hole clenches around me, and I bite back a moan.

“Fuck, Rava…”

He whimpers quietly, like I asked.

I keep moving my hand, working him.

And my mouth never fucking left.

I go right back to sucking him down.

I’m multitasking like a goddamn demon.

Then he fucking flips us.

One second I’m in control, working him open, next thing I know, he’s scrambling over me like he can’t take it anymore.

“What—?”

“Sorry,” he pants, flushed. “I can’t wait. I have to ride.”

Oh fuck.

I grin.

Grab both handfuls of his ass and squeeze, hard.

His dick’s still wet from my mouth, leaking against my stomach.

“Then ride me, baby.”

He reaches down, and yanks my pants down.

My dick springs free, then he grabs it.

His hand wraps around the base, and then he sinks.

All the way down.

My eyes snap open.

His mouth opens in a silent moan. I watch the way his body takes me, until he’s seated, already shaking on top of me.

“Holy shit,” I choke.

We both glance down together, watch my dick disappear inside him, buried so fucking deep I feel it in my soul.

I grab his ass again, rougher now. Spank-worthy grip. Perfect handfuls.

I spread him wider, wanting to see more.

“You feel this?” I whisper.

“Mhm,” he nods, breathless.

Can’t even speak.

He grinds once, then he starts to move. Slow, needy rolls of his hips.

Now he’s riding me.

He fucking rides, he slams down on me like he’s in a goddamn porno and I’m the lucky fuck who got cast last minute.

His hips, they move so fucking smoothly, grinding forward on the downstroke just to drag my dick inside him deeper than deep.

Jesus, he’s taking it.

He’s taking it all like it’s nothing.

I hope no one’s hearing the way we’re fucking like goddamn animals.

I’m gripping his waist tightly, watching the way his ass bounces and claps down on me.

He’s fucking bouncing like he’s on stage.

His thighs slap gently against me. His back arches.

He’s moving so fast now I’m getting dizzy.

Back and forth, back and forth.

My god.

He’s an idol. A sex god. A holy fucking monument to riding dick.

He rides like he’s hungry for it, every bounce punches the air out of my lungs.

I can’t look away.

He starts moving slower. Dragging it out.

He’s smiling, right above my mouth.

One hand gripping the headboard above me, showing off those arms, that body, that goddamn control he thinks he has.

And the view is better than anything I’ve ever seen.

Better than beaches or skylines or art galleries full of naked saints.

I grab his ass and start guiding him myself, pushing him forward, pulling him back, deeper.

“I missed being inside you,” I whisper.

He leans down without stopping, still rolling his hips slow, and he brushes my hair back, too fucking gentle for how filthy we are right now.

“Let’s do it tomorrow too,” he says, smiling. “And the day after.”

I twitch so hard inside him.

God help me, I might not last.

His back arches like he’s made of fucking liquid.

That curve… Jesus Christ.

“Don’t go soft on me now,” I whisper. “Ride me harder.”

“I wish I could,” he whispers, grinning. “But the whole house is gonna hear us.”

Right.

He pushes his hair back with one shaky hand, bites down on a moan, and fucking keeps going.

Finds that rhythm again, that bounce.

His hands plant on my chest for balance, but he’s losing it.

He’s so close. I can see it.

His eyes squeeze shut. He’s about to break.

My hand comes up fast and covers his mouth.

I love his sounds, fuck, I’m addicted to them, but they don’t need to travel down the hallway.

They don’t need to reach our kid’s ears. Or anyone else’s ears.

These noises are mine.

“Keep it down,” I breathe, forehead pressed to his. “Those are for me.”

I can feel him shaking.

“You cumming?” I whisper.

He nods, desperate, and that’s it.

That’s when I let myself go too.

We cum together. Same second.

I can see him spilling all over me. Just seeing it, seeing what I do to him, makes my own orgasm hit harder.

I have to clamp my jaw shut, bite down on the sound clawing up my throat so I don’t fucking scream.

I stay buried inside him. As deep as I can get. I don’t pull out.

I push up instead, filling him with me, emptying myself into him while he’s already smeared all over my chest, my stomach, my hands.

My hand drops away from his mouth and he lets out this heavy, shaky breath.

Makes sense.

We basically just did a full workout.

How is this man that hot? I don’t even understand the physics of it.

I don’t ride like that. He’s a professional.

My husband was born to ride me into the afterlife.

He grabs a tissue to keep cum from getting on the sheets.

His cheeks are on fire.

Mine probably match.

“Wanna go wash up?” he asks softly.

I nod.

He gets off me and starts putting his clothes back on, and I hand him each piece from the floor.

He takes them, smiling a little.

I can’t stop looking at him every two seconds while I’m getting dressed.

I don’t know why he hits me this hard when he looks wrecked like that.

Don’t get me wrong, he’s gorgeous when he’s all neat and put together.

But when he looks like he just came back from a war fought entirely in our bed?

That’s fucking hot.

We walk to the door and open it slowly, slipping out and closing it behind us as quietly as possible.

We turn around and see Lorenzo on the living room floor, looking under the couch.

He sees us and stands up. Walks over. Squints.

We say nothing.

He keeps staring.

“You had sex, didn’t you?” he asks.

Rava immediately shakes his head like saying no.

Lorenzo looks me up and down.

“Your shirt is inside out. It was normal before,” he says.

…

Traitorous fabric.

Then he turns to Rava and presses his hands to his cheeks.

“Your face is literally boiling. I’d rather you tell me you’re stuffed than that you have a fever.”

I shove Rava gently toward the bathroom.

“We’re taking a shower, bye.”

“Hey!” Lorenzo calls after us. “When you’re done, help me, please!”

“With what?” I ask, half turning.

“I lost Giuseppe.”

I stare at him. “We’re in this house… with a mouse running around free between us?”

“Don’t say mouse,” Lorenzo says. “He’s a tiny baby hamster. Just try not to step on him. Now hurry up.”

I drag Rava into the bathroom, shaking my head.

---

HELPPP IM EXHAUSTED I NEED A BREAK.

Also, please don’t start saying I’m copying Heated Rivalry, Rava was riding this dick long before I even knew Heated Rivalry existed 😭

So, respectfully, HUSH. I’m not copying anyone 💔

I keep seeing comments everywhere like “this reminds me of Heated Rivalry too much…” AS IF I WROTE THIS STORY YESTERDAY and not months ago, HAHAHAH.

Anyway.

Now I’m off to edit the paperback WOOHOO.

BYEBYE GUYS I LOVE YOU ❤️

17) Christmas Trip Pt. 6

Gio’s POV

It’s Christmas morning. I hear noise at the door.

If that’s Lorenzo this early, I swear to God he’s catching a punch as a gift.

I drag myself up, open the door.

It’s Jin. With Antonio.

Antonio is stupidly happy, in his tiny pajamas, giggling. Jin is yawning.

“He wanted to come wish you guys Merry Christmas,” Jin mumbles, handing him over.

I smile and grab our son. “Thank you for your service, soldier Jin.”

“Thank you for letting me actually sleep,” he says, already turning away.

“You’re welcome,” I grin, and close the door.

I stroke Antonio’s hair as I walk back to the bed.

“Where’s Dada?” he asks.

I laugh and point at the bed.

“You see that thing hiding under the blanket?” I whisper. “I think that’s him. I think he’s freezing and he needs your hug, Bean.”

“Should I go?” Antonio whispers back, giggling.

“Of course you should. You say Merry Christmas to him first.”

This little traitor.

He didn’t say it to me yet, but he’s ready to sprint to Rava.

I’m going to eat him.

Antonio crawls onto the bed and lifts the blanket. I only see Rava’s hair. Then I don’t see Antonio at all. Just a moving lump.

I try to lift the blanket too and Rava immediately yanks it back down. “How dare you. We’re freezing,” he mumbles. “This is a protected zone.”

“I just wanna come too!” I complain, standing there, exiled.

Rava whispers something to Antonio under the blanket and they start… discussing it.

Talking about whether they should let me in. Incredible. Democracy in our own bed.

Antonio finally peeks out and waves me closer.

I slide under the blanket and wrap my arms around both of them at once.

This hug is worth more than every euro I’ve made in my life so far.

And we’re talking about a lot of money.

Rava leans in and plants a huge kiss on Antonio’s cheek, eyes still half-closed. “Merry Christmas, Bean,” he whispers.

“May chismas, Dada,” Antonio says.

Then he turns to me and reaches for my hair.

“May chismas, Daddy.”

“Aww. May chismas, champ,” I say, kissing his other cheek.

He curls back into Rava’s chest and I rest my hand over Rava’s face, fingers sliding into his hair, rubbing slow circles behind his ear while my thumb strokes over his cheekbone.

“I want too, Daddy,” Antonio says.

I laugh. “You’re next in line. Right now it’s Dada’s turn, I’m sorry, Bean.”

He stretches his tiny hand out and tries to copy exactly what I’m doing on the other side of Rava’s head.

My heart just cracks.

I have the best kid.

Rava’s hair is caught under my big hand, and right next to it there’s this tiny little hand, barely there, doing the same soft movements.

Two idiots in love with the same man.

Then I hear something loud.

From the hallway. FULL BLAST.

Mariah Carey.

And not just the song, someone is absolutely screaming along with it, trying to copy the whistle notes in “All I Want For Christmas Is You.”

Christ. I was right.

This whole trip is literally a five-day school excursion.

I swear, someone is going to suggest we get drunk and play Twister before the day ends.

There’s loud knocking on our door.

“Wake up, my beauties. I’m hungry,” Lorenzo yells.

Rava starts laughing into the pillow, rubbing his eyes.

Antonio hops off the bed and runs to the door, but he’s too short to reach the handle.

“LORENZO,” I shout.

“Yes, my love?” he answers.

“Open the door so our child can get out.”

Lorenzo opens up.

He’s wearing a Santa hat. And holding… whiskey.

“Come on, baby, join me,” he tells Antonio, who just giggles and walks out like this is normal.

I drop forward and hug Rava tight, pulling him into my chest to warm him up.

“Merry Christmas, Ravioli,” I mumble into his hair.

He laughs against my chest. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

We drag ourselves up, get dressed, and step out of the room to go wash up.

The house is a circus.

Daisy grabs me by the arms and spins me in circles in the hallway.

“Calm down, woman. You’re carrying a whole human.”

“Chill,” she says, grinning. “I know my limits.”

Marco appears from his room. “Rava, will you help me with the kitchen, please? I’ve never been a barista in my life and I need to make eight drinks and one milk at the same time.”

“Of course, I’m coming,” Rava says. “Give me five minutes to wake up.”

“Where’s Blu?” I ask.

“Noah took him out with Valentina,” Marco says. “I told them to bring back pastries if they find anything. Lorenzo ate everything last night.”

Of course he did.

I grab Rava’s head gently like he’s a toy and kiss the top of it, then push him toward the bathroom.

Half an hour later

We’re finally all gathered around the tree. There are three space heaters pointed straight at us like they’re on duty so we don’t die of hypothermia.

Blu is wrapped in a tiny blanket, and Lulu is sitting right on top of him like a queen on her throne.

He’s obsessed with her. It’s embarrassing.

Marco is sitting between Noah’s legs on the floor.

Daisy’s on the couch, and Lorenzo’s sitting on the floor in front of her while she plays with his hair.

Valentina’s on the floor too, arguing with Jin about whether her nails are ugly or not.

Rava’s right next to me, Antonio curled up in his lap, the three of us under the same blanket.

“Alright,” Lorenzo shouts, putting his mug down. “All the gifts are here. We’re doing this in the order you’re sitting. So first one to open a present is Rava. He also has to guess who it’s from.”

“Perfect,” Rava says. “Let’s go. I’m excited.”

Antonio is already checked-out, rolling his little cars around his knees.

Honestly, good. I’m terrified of what’s under this tree.

Lorenzo grabs a gift bag covered in hand-drawn hearts and hands it to Rava.

Rava smiles and opens it.

He looks inside. Immediately closes it again and just loses it.

He covers his mouth, laughing so hard no sound comes out.

We all start laughing just watching him.

“What? SHOW us,” I say, already grinning.

The poor man is red, like actually red. He opens the bag again, reaches in, and pulls out…

A ridiculous amount of underwear sets. All of them printed with my face.

I turn away, trying not to laugh.

Okay, WHO thought of this. And how the fuck did I not think of it first.

Rava looks around at everyone, still dying.

“I feel like this is something Lorenzo would do,” he says.

“Not this time, mate,” Lorenzo smirks.

Marco slowly raises his hand. “You know what? At least he’s actually gonna use this! And Gio’s face will be exactly where it belongs 24/7.”

“Very accurate, Marco,” Rava adds. “Thank you so much.”

I nod. “Yeah, thank you, Marco. You’re real for this.”

“Gio, your turn,” Lorenzo says.

I’m terrified. Like genuinely. There is zero chance this bag has chocolate in it.

I grab it, open the top, and see something wrapped inside.

It’s heavy. Too heavy.

“What the hell did you people get me,” I mutter.

I rip the wrapping off, take one look, and drop my head.

“You motherfuckers,” I say. “Who got me a huge-ass dildo?”

Jin screams laughing.

“WHAT?!” Noah yells, almost louder than Jin.

Rava, still laughing, gently turns Antonio the other way so he’s not facing the crime scene.

I pull out this massive, shiny, pink, heavy-ass dildo and wave it in the air like a sword at all of them.

“Who the fuck?” I say, laughing so hard my stomach hurts.

“Can I see?” Valentina asks.

She takes it before I even answer.

“Holy shit, this thing is detailed . It looks like a real dick.”

“How do you KNOW?!” Marco yells.

“Oh, be for real, Marco, I’m not fifteen.”

“Oh my God,” Marco groans.

“Do you like my gift, dadd—” Lorenzo starts.

I don’t even let him finish.

I stand up and CHARGE with the dildo in my hand, ready to smack him with it.

“HELP, HE’S THREATENING ME WITH A DILDO!” Lorenzo screams, running around the tree.

Jin has his phone out, recording the whole fucking thing.

Lorenzo finally dives behind the couch to hide, and I go back to my spot, still holding the damn dildo.

I look at it for a second. Then at him.

“Thank you, Lorenzo,” I say. “I’ll make sure it’s… appreciated.”

“Perfect, next. Jin, you’re up,” Lorenzo says.

“Oh Christ, here we go,” I mumble.

Jin gets up like a grandpa whose back just gave out and grabs his gift bag.

He opens it, pulls out a T-shirt, takes one look, and drops it on the floor.

“I LOVE IT,” he says.

“What is it?” Rava asks.

Jin stands up, holds the shirt proudly against his chest.

It says:

World’s Tallest Lesbian.

I lose it.

“I KNEW it,” Marco says. “I had a feeling you’re a lesbian. Just so you know, it shows.”

“Bro, don’t laugh,” Jin says dead serious. “I’m wearing this to uni. This is peak. I feel extremely lesbian right now.”

“Gio, my boy, was it you?” he asks.

I shake my head.

Daisy elbows him and does a little wave with his hand.

He points at her. “Die,” he tells her.

“I love you too,” she smiles.

“Next up, Noah,” Lorenzo announces.

“FINALLY,” Noah says. “Let’s see what my bitches got me.”

He grabs his bag. Lifts it.

“The fuck? Why is this heavy? Is it like… two dildos this time?”

I bite my lip so I don’t start laughing too hard again.

He rips the paper, looks inside. His eyes go huge.

“YOU’RE SHITTING ME.”

His jaw is literally on the floor. I hide my face in my hand so he doesn’t see me smiling.

He pulls it out.

The shiny, rhinestone-covered tequila bottle.

My masterpiece.

“WHAT THE FUCK,” he says. “This is literally ART, what the hell??”

Lorenzo stares at it like it’s dessert behind glass.

Noah turns it in his hands, the light catching every little crystal.

“You’re telling me someone here actually sat down and glued all of this on one by one?” he says. “Rava, only you would have the patience for that.”

“Fuck off,” I snap immediately, laughing. “It wasn’t him.”

Noah whips his head toward me. “IT WAS YOU?”

I nod, trying to look annoyed but I’m actually stupidly happy.

He jumps up and pulls me into a hug, squeezing me so hard I almost drop the dildo still on my lap.

I rub his back. “Easy, old man.”

“This is insane,” he says. “I’m putting this in my studio. On display. Where I can see it every day. Nobody touches it. It’s sacred.”

“I’m glad you like it,” I say.

“Okay. Gio, die, I want one too,” Noah mutters at my bottle. “Anyway. Next—Marco.”

“Finally,” Marco grins.

Lorenzo hands him his bag and Marco takes it with his tongue poking out like a five-year-old concentrating.

He pulls out a box. Stares at it like an old man reading a contract.

Then slowly turns it so we can see. “Are those… handcuffs made of candy!?!?!?”

“If you don’t want them, I can take them,” I say immediately.

He jerks them away. “NO. Are you insane? This is perfect.”

He starts opening the box.

“Whose brain is this dirty during Christmas?” he asks, laughing.

“Have you seen a single normal gift so far?” Daisy says. “We’re all the same shit. Perverts.”

Jin raises a hand. “The idea was mine, Marco. Just in case Noah gets hungry while he’s on to—”

I smack him in the face with a pillow before he finishes.

“What? It’s not like we don’t KNOW,” he protests.

“True,” Noah shrugs. “The boy has a point. Good job, Jin.”

He stands and they high-five.

“Alright. Daisy’s turn,” Lorenzo says.

“I hope you all showed mercy,” she laughs, opening her bag. “I’ll appreciate it no matter—”

She stops. Looks up slowly. Completely serious.

“No.”

“What is it?” we all ask, suddenly quiet.

She pulls out two boxes of blue hair dye.

Lorenzo slaps a hand over his mouth.

Jin’s eyes go HUGE. “Oh my God,” he whispers. “I’m getting war flashbacks. Not again.”

“Aww, you had blue hair when I first met you,” Lorenzo says.

“Yes,” Daisy answers, pissed and already side-eyeing Rava.

Rava is laughing and burying himself deeper under our blanket.

Daisy throws a pillow at him and he keeps laughing.

“What?” he says. “Be honest, it suited you! I miss the little Smurf with the noodle blue hair.”

“I agree,” Jin says. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“You don’t get to talk,” Daisy snaps at him.

Marco nudges her gently. “I kinda wanna see it,” he says with a smile.

Daisy stares ahead like she’s questioning every life decision.

Valentina leans toward her. “Blue is nice. I can see it on you. Go for it, girl.”

Daisy exhales, then laughs. “I’ll flip a coin.”

“Valentina, your turn. Second to last,” Lorenzo says.

He hands her the bag. She shakes it. It sounds like little pieces rattling.

“What is it?” she asks.

“Open it and find out, genius,” Marco says.

“Shut up.”

She opens it.

She screams.

I swear I’ve never seen her this excited.

She pulls out a LEGO box, a whole flower shop build.

“WHAT! Guys, I’m gonna cry. You got me LEGO, I can’t believe it.”

“IT WAS ME,” Noah yells. “I’m probably the only one who didn’t get a dirty present… oops. Sorry, girl.”

“Are you insane? This is perfect,” she says. “I love you, Noah. You’re my favorite. You’re helping me build it later.”

“I get that honor?” Noah asks dramatically.

She nods. “Yes.”

“Can I help too?” Marco asks.

“No.”

“Perfect,” Marco says, not even offended.

“And finally,” Rava says, “we have… Lorenzo.”

I genuinely can’t wait to see what disaster he got.

Lorenzo spots a wrapped box with slightly murdered wrapping paper.

“That one’s for me?” he asks.

We all nod.

“Who else would it be for, idiot? You’re the only one left,” Noah says.

“Don’t talk to me like that or I’ll use Gio’s dildo on you,” Lorenzo answers.

“…Was that a threat?” Noah asks.

“Yes,” Lorenzo says simply, and starts tearing at the already-torn wrapping paper.

He freezes. Grabs his head.

“A BABY.”

“A baby WHAT?!” Jin demands.

“A BABY HAMSTER.”

Rava immediately gets up. “Oh, Antonio, come see!”

They both rush over to the box to see this tiny confused hamster just sitting there like, why am I here.

“I’m calling him Bartolomeo,” Lorenzo declares.

I burst out laughing. “Dude, that might be one of the worst names I’ve ever heard.”

“My hamsters have unique names,” he says. “Shut up and accept it. Go get your own and name it whatever you want.”

He carefully picks the hamster up in his hands. “I want Bartolomeo,” he whispers.

“Can I hold him?” Noah asks.

“No,” Lorenzo says. “You wait. We’re bonding. He has to know I’m his father, not you.”

He looks at Valentina. “Valentina, thank you SO much. You’re incredible and I will remember you forever.”

“You’ll remember me because I got you a hamster?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“Okay,” she says, smiling.

The living room is covered in wrapping paper now.

But I’m not gonna lie, this was the best Secret Santa I’ve ever done.

And I’ve only done it… twice?!

---

YAAAAAA HEY DIVAS!! How did you like the Secret Santa? :) My brain is a little fried ngl.

Also I have sad news. The chapters in Raise or Die are going to stay short for a bit because I REALLY want to release the paperback on Amazon in January, before I start working.

If I do start working, I’ll have barely any time and it’ll take me forever to get the book out. And these chapters here take me a whole day to write.

So I’m sorry, but for a while you’ll be getting short ones :(

BUT IT’S WORTH IT! WE’RE GETTING A PAPERBACK WOOHOOOO 🎉

I’ll post the cover tomorrow :) on Instagram :) and here as well, in the next chapter, for those who don’t have Insta :)

BYEBYE I LOVE YOU ❤️

18) Christmas Trip Pt. 7

Rava’s POV

Gio walks in first, completely swallowed by layers of clothes. Marco is right behind him, with Antonio.

They all look like three walking piles of laundry. It’s ridiculous. I love them.

Antonio’s hiding something in his hands.

“Come on, let’s go give Dada his gift,” Gio says, nudging him toward me.

Antonio giggles and stumbles over, cheeks all red from the cold.

He holds something out to me with his tiny hands.

It’s a little… snowman.

One eye, crooked smile, lumpy body. And I’m two seconds away from crying.

“Aw, baby, is this for me?” I ask.

Antonio nods hard. “Me and Daddy and Maco made it.”

I take the snowman very carefully and head to the kitchen, walking slow so I don’t flood the living room. I set it down on the counter carefully.

“It’s amazing ,” I say. “I’m shocked.”

I look down at him. “See? Snow isn’t that scary after all, huh?”

He giggles and nods, stuffed into his jacket like a marshmallow.

Marco unwraps his scarf and drops it next to me, exhaling.

“Your son… I don’t know where the hell he finds this much energy,” he says. “And stamina. Bro, the second I showed him how to make one snowman, he made like twelve after that. Same thing again and again. And he laughed every time like it was the first snowman in history. It was so cute I got cuteness aggression.”

I laugh and reach up to grab mugs so I can start hot chocolate.

Gio comes over and starts taking pictures of the snowman right next to Antonio, all proud and obsessed.

“Marco, take one of the three of us,” Gio says. “This is legendary.”

Gio scoops Antonio up and sets him on his hip.

I hand Antonio the snowman again, making sure he’s holding it steady, then slide in close, wrapping my arms around Gio’s waist.

I press my head to the side, against Antonio’s little shoulder.

I’m smiling so hard my face almost hurts.

Gio squishes Antonio’s cheeks together, and Antonio squeals laughing.

Marco is going insane with my phone, taking like eight hundred photos from every possible angle.

“It’s insane, I’m jealous,” Marco mutters.

Then he flips the camera, steps into frame himself, and I burst out laughing.

“Sorry, I needed proof that I was the amazing photographer behind this,” he says. “Write me down as tree guy in the family history.”

“Of course,” Gio tells Marco.

I look at him properly this time.

He’s shaking.

It throws me off. I glance at Marco to see if he notices too.

“Um… are you okay?” I ask Gio.

He nods. “I’m fine, I just—I’m freezing. We were outside.”

“I was outside too, baby, but I’m not cold. This place is boiling with Lorenzo’s heaters,” Marco adds.

I reach up and touch Gio’s forehead.

My eyes go wide immediately.

“Dude, you’re burning. You definitely have a fever, like 100%. How did you not notice??”

“Shh, don’t say it out loud,” he hisses.

I stare at him. “Why?!”

“I’ll just go sit in the room. If everyone hears I’m sick, no one’s gonna come near me.”

I feel my shoulders drop at how serious he sounds.

Marco shrugs. “Doesn’t bother me,” he says. “Don’t be dumb, man. If they find out, they’re just gonna throw themselves on you to make you feel better.”

And that’s when it clicks.

He does this every time.

Whenever he gets sick, it’s like he locks himself in this little personal prison away from everyone, because in his head we’re all gonna go, ‘ew, Gio is sick, get away from me, if you infect me I’m never talking to you again’.

And I hate it. I hate that his brain goes there first.

I can’t help wondering if people in Spain actually treated him like that when he was growing up.

If he learned this alone thing from somewhere.

“Come here,” I say, and start unzipping his jacket. “First of all, don’t stand around in wet clothes, you’re gonna get worse.”

He lets me peel the jacket off him, still shivering.

“Second, go grab the thermometer and check your temperature. Third, go take a warm shower. I’ll make you something to eat. If you skip any of these steps, we’re breaking up.”

Gio laughs through his chattering teeth. “The way you’re talking to me, I feel like I’m Antonio.”

He looks over at him on the carpet, playing with Lorenzo and rubbing Daisy’s belly.

I pull Gio in and hug him, running my fingers through his hair.

“You’re a baby too,” I tell him. “You’re just trapped in a very hot body. Literally hot right now. You’re on fire.”

He snorts.

“Go do what I said.”

“Yes, sir,” he murmurs, and finally shuffles off toward the bathroom.

If he thinks he’s gonna be sick and alone in this house, he really doesn’t know me at all.

“Poor guy,” Marco says. “What are we gonna make him?”

I open a couple of cupboards, scanning shelves.

“I’m thinking chicken soup,” I say. “And maybe some rice on the side.”

Marco nods. “Yeah, agreed. Two or three days and he’ll be fine. Let him at least enjoy New Year’s, not be sick the whole time.”

He claps his hands once. “Alright, come on, start with the chicken, I’ll chop carrots and put the rice on.”

Then he pauses. “Actually, no. Leave the chicken to me too. Don’t waste time. Make him some tea first and then go grab extra blankets for him. Take one of the heaters too, put it in your room. These degenerates out here don’t need all three.”

I smile and pull him into a quick hug.

“I love you, Marco.”

“Aw, I love you too, Ravioli. Now move,” he says, patting my back.

I start making the tea.

“Do you want us to keep Antonio tonight so you don’t have to worry about him too?” Marco asks. “I don’t mind.”

I glance toward Antonio.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, man. Relax. It’s not good for Gio to wake up every half hour to check on him. You two should sleep like normal people for once.”

I smile and nod. He’s right. Obviously.

Half an hour later

I walk into our room with a bowl and a mug of tea. I set them down on the nightstand.

Gio is putting on a t-shirt.

I grab a hoodie and hand it to him.

“I’m gonna overheat,” he complains.

“Put it on.”

I shove it toward him until he takes it and pulls it over his head.

“How high is the fever?”

“Guess.”

“Gio.”

“38.2.”

I rub my eyes.

“Okay, so you’re sick sick,” I sigh. “Poor thing. Come here.”

I get him into bed and pull the blanket over him. The heater is already on, humming.

I sit down on the edge of the bed and hand him the soup. My hand automatically goes to his forehead again.

“You wanted to play in the snow for two hours yesterday and two more today,” I say, rubbing his hairline with my thumb.

“Yeah, sorry our son learned how to make snowmen and I had to encourage him,” he mutters.

I laugh. “You did the right thing, I know. Now eat, and after you’re done you’ll take something for the fever, and then we’ll lie down together and you’ll relax.”

“You’re gonna stay with me?” he asks.

“Yes?!”

“But what if you get sick?”

“Gio,” I say, annoyed and soft at the same time. “Stop. I literally do not care if I get sick. Taking care of you is more important. You say that to me all the time.”

“It’s not the same,” he mumbles.

“How is it not the same?!” I ask.

He just shrugs and starts eating.

His cheeks are bright red from the heat.

There’s scratching at the door.

I get up and open it.

Blu walks in like a gentleman.

Señor.

Like he’s saying, how dare you forget me outside.

He goes straight to Gio’s side of the bed and sits, staring at the bowl, waiting.

Gio laughs. “I knew it. The second you hear cutlery, you magically appear.”

Blu wags his tail.

“How do you feel exactly?” I ask. “Anything other than the fever?”

Gio thinks for a second. “My throat feels a bit dry.”

I nod and turn to my bag, rummaging for the lozenges I bought at the pharmacy before we came.

“You’ll have one of these after you eat.”

“Yes, doctor.”

“How’s the food?”

“Perfect. It’s boiling hot, but perfect.”

“Marco made it,” I say. “Now drink your tea.”

He sets the bowl down and reaches for the mug. Blu immediately shifts his attention to the bowl.

“Blu, sit,” I tell him. “It’s not dinner time yet.”

Blu instantly sits, like if he stays very, very still, his dinner will arrive faster.

Gio finishes his food, pushes the bowl a bit away.

“Okay, stay here,” I tell him. “I’ll take these to the kitchen, grab the meds and come back.”

He nods and keeps petting Blu.

I step out and almost crash into Daisy in the hallway.

“Move,” she says, and slides past me into the room.

“Hey,” I hear her say to Gio. “You need anything? I have pills for fever. I also have tissues. And nasal spray. And painkillers—”

“Daisy, I’m not dying, I just have a fever,” Gio laughs.

“Well, yeah. Yeah, you’re right. Okay,” she says. “But ask me if you need anything, alright?”

He nods and she comes back out, falling into step next to me toward the kitchen.

“Do you want us to keep Antonio tonight?” she asks.

I laugh. “I already gave him to Marco. You guys can fight over him.”

She snorts and peels off toward the living room.

I grab the meds and water and head back to our room.

I close the door behind me.

I hand Gio a glass of water and a pill. “This is to bring the fever down.”

He takes it and swallows.

“Good. Now take this too,” I say, unwrapping a lozenge. “It’s for your throat.”

He obeys, then pulls the blanket back up to his chin.

I climb under the covers too and slide closer, wrapping an arm around his neck and tugging him against me.

I stroke the side of his neck with my thumb, and he’s holding onto me like I’m his pillow.

He keeps shivering. It comes in little waves, his body trembles, then relaxes, then trembles again.

I kiss the top of his head and pull him even tighter against my chest, trying to make him as warm as possible.

“Try to sleep,” I murmur. “It’ll help.”

He nods.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand.

I reach over and grab it.

The fuck?

A message from a guy I haven’t seen in… years.

It’s from a friend from university. Back in Canada.

We all met him once when Noah and I went out for pool. His name’s Daniel. We haven’t talked in… three years?! What the hell.

He’s sent a post.

DANIEL:

• lol Sorry for the random DM, but this is such a throwback. this is peak exam-week you.

• saying you did terribly and then getting the highest mark again.

I laugh out loud.

I really didn’t do that on purpose. Half those times I was sure I’d messed up my answers.

But okay. I like that when people think of me, their brain goes “highest grade”.

ME:

• Don’t expose me like that. I swear I was actually convinced I failed every single time.

He sees it immediately. The “seen” pops up.

Gio’s head shifts on my chest, eyes half-open. He looks at the screen.

“Who’s that?” he asks.

“A friend from university. From Canada,” I say. “I have no idea why he remembered me.”

“He’s probably horny,” Gio mutters.

I choke on a laugh. “What? He’s not flirting,” I say, still laughing. “Calm down.”

I tilt the phone so he can see the chat too.

“Come on, watch with me,” I tell him.

The typing bubble appears. Disappears. Appears again.

“Probably jerking off,” Gio whispers.

I lose it completely. I’m shaking with silent laughter.

“Stop,” I hiss. “You’re gonna turn me into a narcissist. You always think people are hitting on me.”

“You should be a narcissist,” he mumbles. “You’re perfect.”

He grins a little. “In the next message, tell him: Yeah, I remember exam week was literal hell. Also my husband is extremely attractive.”

I wheeze. No sound comes out. I probably look like I’m dying more than he does.

“Right,” I say between breaths. “Super relevant. He’s gonna think I’m brain damaged.”

“I know, I’m joking,” Gio says softly.

I lock my phone and toss it somewhere on the mattress without looking.

My arms go straight back around him, pulling him tight against me.

I run my fingers through his hair, again and again.

His forehead is still too hot on my neck.

He slips his hand under my shirt.

Just rests it on my chest.

He squeezes once. Then just leaves his palm there.

I laugh again. “What was that?”

He shrugs.

“What are we doing on New Year’s?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” I say. “First step, you get better. Then we see.”

“Antonio?” he mumbles.

“He’s sleeping in Noah and Marco’s room tonight so you can actually rest,” I say. “No midnight patrol every half hour.”

“Okay,” he whispers.

“Do you need me to bring you anything else?” I ask.

He hums, thinking, and starts playing with our engagement ring on my finger, turning it slowly.

“Tell me again,” he says quietly. “When did you realize you liked me?”

I drop my head back on the pillow, smiling.

“Gio, I’ve told that story like ninety-two times in the last few years.”

“I don’t care. Tell it again.”

I sigh, laughing. “Fine. It was the day after our little ‘fake’ kiss at Sophia’s party.”

“I’m gonna throw up,” he mutters.

“Too bad,” I say. “Anyway. I dramatically escape my house like I’m the main character in a depressing movie and go sit on the roof of some random building. My traitor of a brother tells you where I am. You show up with beers, sit down next to me, and just… drop your whole lore. Your dad, the accident, everything. And my emotionally unstable heart starts feeling bad for your misunderstood ass.”

He snorts against my chest.

“I start seeing you differently,” I go on. “Then I hug you. And my heart is beating like I’m a teenager touching his crush for the first time. Then you edge me—”

I tap his head lightly and he laughs.

“You leave, I go home, have a full sexuality crisis while jerking off in the shower, and then I go trauma-dump on Daisy because of you.”

He laughs and squeezes me tighter.

“And then,” I add, “you destroy me and emotionally flatten me by acting all hard-to-get the day I first met Lorenzo.”

He laughs harder. “Don’t laugh!” I complain. “I was so miserable. It was torture!”

He kisses my neck, lips burning hot from the fever.

“I’m sorry, Ravioli,” he mumbles there.

I lay his head back on my chest and stroke his hair. “I forgive you. Now sleep a bit. Don’t be sick on New Year’s Eve.”

He nods and closes his eyes.

“Don’t you dare leave,” he whispers.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I say. “Sleep. I’m right here.”

---

WOOHOO HEY DIVAS!!

I’d love to sit down and reply to every single one of your comments, but as you’re reading this, I’m literally editing the paperback.

My personal life has completely vanished, I’m so devoted it’s almost tragic.

I’ll be uploading the next chapter on New Year’s Eve (Dec 31st), dreaming that somewhere in a parallel universe, they celebrated Christmas with us too. (Yes, I’m delusional.)

Also, unfortunately, the whole “getting sick” thing totally runs in my family.

The moment someone catches something, they basically lock us in isolation, meanwhile, my boyfriend’s family is always around, making sure I’m okay, and honestly it completely melted me I was not expecting this at all 💀

anyway THATS ALL:)

See you guys I love you so much mwah ❤️

19) Happy New Year!

Gio’s POV

I button my shirt all the way up to the top.

It’s 10PM, we’re all getting ready to eat before the year flips, and outside the room the house sounds like a zoo on fire.

I feel better. I don’t think I qualify as “sick” anymore. I actually feel good, thanks to Marco, Rava, and the healing kisses of my son, who literally swore I wouldn’t get better if I didn’t let him kiss me a hundred times.

I’m stupidly excited for tonight. It’s the first time we’re finally doing New Year’s all together.

I step out into the hallway and find Noah wrestling with a very nervous-looking pink microphone.

“What the hell is that?” I ask, laughing.

“Get ready,” he says. “Here, take this.” He shoves his phone into my hand. “Start recording, baby. It’s showtime.”

He smacks the mic once. “AAAH,” he yells into it.

“What are you doing?” I’m already cracking up.

“Testing if it works.” He clears his throat like he’s on stage. “ANYWAY.”

I hit record.

He straightens up, flicks his hair back like there’s an audience of fifty thousand.

“GOOD EVENING, ladies and gentlemen. This is your favorite tattoo artist, your one and only, Noah Kaiser. Tonight we’re interviewing every living creature under this roof.”

He glances back at me. “We ready, Fontana?”

“Yes, sir,” I say, already grinning, and start following him.

“Follow me, please,” Noah announces, and struts out.

“HELLO HELLO HELLO,” Noah yells, almost blowing my eardrum out. “Here, ladies and gentlemen, we have our first victim. Mr. Rava Fontana, also known as Ravioli.”

He shoves the mic under Rava’s chin.

“Sir, can you tell the camera how many hours you’ve been cooking for these ungrateful pigs?”

Rava laughs and pretends to think, looking up at the ceiling. “About… four.”

Noah stares into the camera like he’s on a documentary.

“He says four, but trust me, it feels like twelve. This man hasn’t stopped cooking since he opened his eyes, I swear.”

He swings the mic back.

“How does it feel to be the backbone of this circus, chef? Speak into the mic, please.”

“I’m about to cry, honestly,” Rava says, smiling. “I need to pee and nobody is watching the food so I can go.”

“Okay,” Noah says. “We caught the chef at a vulnerable moment. He’s about to piss himself.”

He shrugs at the camera.

“Still, he looks very pretty. Cameraman, please zoom in on our chef’s beautiful face.”

I move in, bring the camera right up to Rava’s face, and he laughs. I kiss the top of his head, because obviously.

Noah points the mic at him again.

“Rava, if this dinner burns, which one of us are you blaming first? Please answer honestly for legal reasons.”

“You,” Rava says instantly.

Noah turns to the camera, offended.

“Our chef is clearly homophobic, you all saw it.”

He doesn’t even give him time to answer.

“Anyway. Rava, is this the same little bowl you were using in Canada when you were sad and cooking alone, or are we in your healing era now?”

Rava huffs out a laugh.

“I think we’re in the healing era. That was a different bowl.”

Noah spins toward me like he just broke news.

“You ALL heard it. Healing era confirmed.”

He pats Rava on the shoulder.

“Thank you very much, chef. Let’s go bother the next victim—” he looks into the lens, dramatic again, “—the chef’s husband.”

He grabs the phone out of my hands. I fix my hair in like two seconds and clear my throat.

“Breaking news, guys,” Noah says, turning to the camera. “Local mysterious bad boy has a fever and is still hot. Let’s investigate.”

He comes right up in my face.

“Mr. Fontana, you look… exhausted. How are you feeling on the last day of the year?”

I laugh. “Better than yesterday, thank you for asking, sir.”

“On a scale from 1 to ‘I’m fine’, how close are you to actually collapsing?” he asks.

“I’d say… 2.5.” I lean closer to the camera. “Mostly because my husband is extremely hot right now.”

Noah flips the camera to Rava immediately.

“Of course, Mr. Fontana does not miss a single chance to hit on his husband,” he narrates, then flips it back to me.

“Can you walk the viewers through your outfit tonight? Very ‘sick hot dad’ of you.”

I look down at my clothes.

“Rava picked them. I just nodded and put them on.”

Noah laughs. “Look at that. What a good husband.”

He narrows his eyes a bit.

“Rumor has it you’re still a little sick though. Are you planning on doing stuff with your husband tonight?”

“What kind of stuff?” I ask.

“The kind that makes aunties clutch their pearls.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely. I’m gonna make sure the new year really enters him—”

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, I apologize for this man,” Noah cuts in, raising his voice. “Next question.”

He leans on the mic again.

“Gio, be honest. Who’s babying you more right now, Rava or Marco?”

“Rava, one hundred percent. Marco keeps telling me to ‘hydrate’ like I’m a plant. He’s not joking.”

“Valid,” Noah nods. “Next question. Your son is currently chewing on a wheel. How do you feel as a parent?”

I glance over at Antonio gnawing on a toy car.

“Proud. He’s training his jaw for when he starts talking back at fifteen.”

“What do you wanna say to him when he watches this video in ten years?”

I lean in close to the camera.

“Go to sleep. It’s past your bedtime.”

“Perfect,” Noah says. “Alright, sick king. I’m gonna go bully the others now. Follow me.”

He shoves the phone back into my hands.

I start recording again and we head toward the living room.

“Where are we going now, reporter?” I ask him.

He looks over his shoulder at me. “To the love of my life. My sexy lawyer.”

Of course.

He walks straight to the couch where Marco is sitting and just drops himself on top of him.

“Good evening, sir,” Noah says, shoving the mic under his chin. “Quick interview for national television. Please state your full name and crime.”

Marco laughs. “Marco Vitale – Tree Guy. And my crime is dating you.”

Noah looks straight into the camera.

“You heard that, people? Victim blaming.”

He throws an arm around Marco’s shoulders and sinks even more into him.

“Mr. Lawyer, on behalf of the jury, how does it feel to be dating the hottest man in this house?”

Marco laughs. “First of all—”

“Please answer the question, sir,” Noah cuts in.

Marco grabs the mic, still smiling. “Exhausting.”

Noah whips his head to the camera, horrified.

“WRITE THAT DOWN. We have emotional damage on record.”

He clears his throat.

“Anyway. Serious question now. Mr. Lawyer, on a scale from 1 to 10, how likely are you to keep defending me in court when I say things like ‘your ass should be illegal’? Your answer will heavily affect our plans for tonight.”

Marco takes the mic again. “Zero. I’m switching sides.”

Noah drops his head. “Fucking betrayal. On New Year’s Eve.” He looks over at me. “Gio, are you getting this?”

I nod, laughing. “In 4K.”

Noah turns back to Marco.

“Okay, what else… hmm. Would you say the defendant, me, is guilty of loving you too much?”

“Yes,” Marco says into the mic.

“And would you like to press charges?” Noah asks.

Marco leans in a little. “No.”

Noah bites down on a smile and looks at the camera like he’s about to cry.

“He loves me. Cut the cameras. I can’t be seen being soft.”

Marco kisses him on the cheek.

Noah looks back into the lens and drops his voice.

“For the record, ladies and gentlemen, this lawyer is mine. Any attempts to steal him will be met with legal action and emotional terrorism. That’s all I have to say.”

We move on.

“Who’s next, reporter?” I ask.

He looks deadly serious for half a second. “To our next guest: our local alcoholic, future father, current menace… Mr. Lorenzo Fontana.”

Lorenzo is sitting in the corner because his phone’s charging, looking bored, until he hears his name.

“INTERVIEW TIME?” he lights up, grabbing the mic.

“Please do not eat the microphone, sir,” Noah says with a straight face.

Lorenzo ignores him completely and walks over to me with the mic.

“This part is for the cameraman,” he tells the lens. “Come to my room after midnight.” He winks.

“GET IT TOGETHER, SIR,” Noah says, laughing.

“LET ME SPEAK MY TRUTH,” Lorenzo shoots back.

“Shut up, you freak,” Noah mutters. “Okay, let’s begin.”

He turns fully to the camera.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are here with Lorenzo Fontana: ex-menace, current husband, future father. Sir, how do you feel knowing a child will call you ‘dad’ one day?”

Lorenzo answers dead serious. “I feel like crying.”

“Beautiful,” Noah says. “And what are you most excited for?”

Lorenzo takes the mic.

“Matching leather jackets. And teaching them how to flip people off with class.”

“Do you think you’re gonna be the strict parent, or the stupid fun one?”

Lorenzo shrugs.

“Oh, Daisy is CEO of rules. I’m gonna be the one who’s like, ‘don’t tell your mom’. Sorry, baby, if you’re watching this.” He looks straight into the camera.

“Noted,” Noah nods. “Alright, Mr. Soon-To-Be Dad. One last question. On New Year’s Eve, a few hours before midnight… what do you want to say to your future kid?”

Lorenzo takes a deep breath, grips the mic, and leans closer to the lens.

“If you ever disrespect your mother, I will personally suplex you through a table. With love. And I’ll make you cook her breakfast every day. That’s it. Kisses.”

“Incredible,” Noah says. “Let’s go check on his wife and her pregnant partner in crime.”

We leave Lorenzo and head to Valentina’s room.

Both of them are dressed up to the nines, full glam, full chaos.

“Good evening to the ladies of the house,” Noah announces. “Daisy Fontana. How do you feel right now?”

“Emotionally? I’m fine. Physically? I have a bowling ball in my stomach,” she says.

“Sounds amazing. Love that for you.” He turns. “Valentina, my Lego queen. How does your parasite treat you today?”

“She’s doing parkour on my organs. But other than that, we’re good. We’re chilling.”

“Miss? Can you hear us in there?” Noah asks her stomach. “Is it true what I heard?”

And right then, a tiny foot literally pushes out against Valentina’s belly.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT—” Noah yells, and I’m just as shocked.

“DID THE BABY JUST KICK YOU?!” Noah screams. “WE GOT A KICK ON CAMERA, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. Gio, tell me you caught that.”

“Of course I caught it,” I say, already on the verge of crying.

“Holy shit, this little girl is aggressive before she’s even out in the world,” Noah tells the camera. “I’m scared.”

He leans closer to Valentina’s bump.

“Girl, I know you can hear me in there. If you ever need an alibi, I got you.”

“Stop teaching the baby crime,” Daisy says, laughing.

Noah pulls the mic back to his mouth.

“Can’t stop, won’t stop. Alright, that’s all from the baby section. The wombs are tired, we’re signing off.”

He walks out of the room, and I follow with the camera, still recording everything.

We head to Jin’s room, where he’s currently being held hostage by a two-year-old.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Noah says as we walk in, all dramatic again. “This… this is THE MOST important segment of the night. Welcome to Antonio’s Garage.”

Antonio looks up, sees the camera, and instantly grabs a car.

“Look, Noah. Vroom vroom.” He shoves it right up to the lens.

“Wow. Exclusive close-up. Thank you, sir,” Noah says.

Antonio drops that car and snatches another one, his favorite.

“This one fast. This go zooooom.”

He drives it up Jin’s leg.

Noah grabs my hand and pulls the camera in closer.

“Okay, guys, let me walk you through this insanely advanced collection,” he narrates.

“Clearly this child has good influences in his life. This is what happens when your dad is obsessed with bikes and cars and your other dad has taste.”

Antonio picks up another car, this one with a busted door.

“This crashed.” He yeets it to the side, totally satisfied.

Jin starts laughing. “That’s very on brand for you, Gio.”

Antonio, suddenly very serious, grabs two cars and holds them up to the camera.

“This Daddy.” He wiggles the first one.

“This Dada.” He wiggles the second.

Noah blinks. “Wait, which one is who?”

Antonio points at the slightly bigger, more beat-up car. “This Daddy. He go fast. Boom.”

Then he points at the cleaner one. “This Dada. He go careful.”

He drives it gently across the carpet.

Jin loses it. “He just called you reckless and Rava responsible with toy cars. I’m gonna cry.”

Noah turns the mic toward me. “See? Critical thinking. We love an observant king.”

Antonio suddenly freezes, stares Noah dead in the eye… and lets out a massive burp.

Noah cracks up and looks back at the camera.

“Okay. Our friend here has just burped directly into the mic. This is raw content. You’re welcome.”

“Excuse me,” Antonio says casually.

“No, you’re fine,” Noah tells him. “That was impressive, honestly.”

Antonio grabs another car, this one with fake teeth on the front, and starts chewing on it.

“Okay, so our friend here is now eating a car,” Noah narrates. “Perfectly normal development.”

Jin tries to pry it out of his mouth. “Dude, stop, it’s not a snack.”

Antonio pulls it back. “Is. Car cookie.”

Noah nods like that makes sense, then looks down at the full line of cars on the floor.

“What’s happening here, sir? Is this a race?”

Antonio gives him a judgmental look. “Line. They wait.”

“For what?”

“For food.”

Jin lets his head fall forward. “He’s fully integrated into this family. I’m done. Your kid is literally the perfect mix of you and Rava.”

“Thank you, Jin,” I say.

Jin takes the mic suddenly. “Noah, your turn. Get ready.”

He clears his throat.

“Question about your love life, Kaiser.”

“I’m ready,” Noah says. “Hit me with it.”

“How does it feel to date a serious, respectable lawyer… while you’re… you?”

Noah gasps. “That was homophobic too.”

“It wasn’t,” Jin says.

“It felt homophobic,” Noah insists. “But to answer your question, it feels like I scammed the system. This man reads laws and still looked at me and went ‘yeah, that one’. That’s crazy.”

“Worst thing that happened to you this year?” Jin asks.

“Finding out Lorenzo is reproducing.”

Jin nods. “Agreed. Terrifying. Lorenzo number two. Anyway. Any message you wanna leave for your future self?”

“Yeah,” Noah says, taking the mic properly this time. “If future me is watching this: if you broke up with Marco, you’re an idiot. Go fix it.”

“Excellent statement,” Jin says. “I love threats. Well done.”

“Thank you,” Noah answers, satisfied.

Jin looks into the camera.

“This was Noah, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for your time.”

I stop recording and end the video.

I hand the phone back to Noah and head straight for the kitchen.

Rava’s still there, moving around like a tired little machine, and I go behind him and wrap my arms around his waist, kissing his face all over. Cheeks, temple, jaw, nose. He laughs but doesn’t push me away.

“How’s the food going, chef?” I ask into his neck.

“We’re eating in ten. Go call the others. Actually…” he sighs, tired, “can you help me a bit?”

Poor guy. It hits me now how much he’s done alone today.

“Hey,” I say, pushing his glasses back up his nose because they’ve slid halfway down. “We’re not in a rush. Take your time. I’ll help. What do you want me to do?”

He looks up at the ceiling, thinking. “I want you to take the cheese pies out of the oven, put them in that bowl, and just make the salad if you can. Everything else is under control.”

I nod and get to work.

Ten minutes later

We finally sit down at the table. Everyone’s loud, and hungry.

Rava’s phone starts ringing.

“Want me to pick up?” Daisy asks, reaching.

I grab it before she does. “It’s your mom,” I tell them, then answer. “Hi, Mrs. Eden,” I say, smiling already.

“Hi, sweetheart, how are you all doing?” she asks. “Rava told me you got sick, are you okay?”

Daisy immediately leans over. “Wow, mom, thanks for asking how I’m doing, I’m fine too, and so is the baby, yeah,” she says.

I laugh and turn the phone back toward me. “I’m okay now, he took really good care of me. Look, here he is,” I say, flipping the camera. “He’s red because he cooked all day.”

Rava laughs and waves at his mom.

“HI, MRS. EDEN!” Noah screams from across the table. “I miss you!”

“I miss you too, Noah. I miss all of—”

All the lights cut off at once.

Everything goes black.

Lorenzo screams.

Antonio starts crying instantly.

“What happened?!” his mom asks through the phone.

“Uhhh… I think we just had a blackout,” I say.

“Now I’ll touch whoever I want and no one will know it’s me,” Jin announces in the dark.

“Jin!! Was that you?? Behave!” his mom yells from the phone.

Lorenzo turns on his flashlight. Marco does the same.

“Give the phone to Antonio, my poor baby,” Mrs. Eden says.

I move around the table, find him by the sound of his crying, scoop him up with one arm and pull him onto my lap.

“Look, it’s Grandma,” I tell him, putting the phone in front of his face. “Say ‘hi Grandmaaa.’”

Antonio immediately stops crying, sniffles, and looks at the screen. “Hi gamaaa,” he says.

Now Mrs. Eden starts crying.

“Oh, my love, you,” she sniffles. “You’re the most beautiful child in the world.”

Antonio nods, totally serious.

Noah’s jaw drops. “Look at him agreeing so confidently. This child will be immune to bullying, I swear.”

“I’ll call you again later after you all eat, okay?” Mrs. Eden says. “Take care of yourselves!”

Everyone leans in to shout bye to her, and then the call ends.

Dead silence.

“No one’s gonna go check how long this is gonna last?” Valentina asks.

“I’ll go,” Lorenzo says, and sprints off.

We all just sit there in the dark, staring at each other.

“I love how we’re all dressed nice but wearing Christmas socks,” Marco says.

“We have to stay in the Christmas spirit,” Daisy answers. “Antonio, you look so handsome. You’re not scared of the dark, are you?”

Antonio shakes his head. Nope.

“He sleeps in the dark,” Rava says. “The problem is his other dad over here—” he points at me, “—who’s a whole muscle wall but needs a little light to sleep and complains about it.”

Antonio giggles.

“I LIKE TO SEE AROUND ME,” I complain. “God forbid a man wants to protect his family from potential burglars.”

Marco laughs. “Yeah, totally, protector of the house, with his little night light.”

I throw an olive at him.

“Antonio, we’ll eat and then you go to sleep, okay?” I tell him. “I’ll wake you up when it’s time to see the fireworks.”

Antonio nods, already rubbing his eyes.

Lorenzo comes back. The lights are still off.

“They’re not coming back yet. We have to wait,” he announces. “Eat in the dark.”

“Perfect.” Rava says, and starts eating.

I grab the plate with the little pies. Rava thumps his chest because he swallowed too fast and turns toward me.

“I tried,” he says. “They’re NOT like my mom’s, but I really tried.”

I bite into one and look at him. “Oh wow, they’re terrible, baby.”

He bumps his forehead against my shoulder and laughs.

We all eat in almost total silence. In the dark. Just the clink of cutlery and random little laughs.

I lift my head. “Noah, did you know that when you came to Rava’s place and confessed you wanted Marco… Marco was behind the couch and heard everything?”

“WHAT—” Noah yells.

Marco’s eyes blow wide. “BRO WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT—”

He turns to Rava. “Rava? Did you know your man almost gave his Ducati to someone else forever?”

“EXCUSE ME—?” Rava says.

Rava points at Lorenzo. “LORENZO TEXTED ME BEGGING ME TO SET HIM UP WITH DAISY.”

Lorenzo shoots up from his chair. “AND RAVA ONLY DID IT ON THE CONDITION THAT I LOCK HIM AND GIO IN AN OFFICE SO THEY COULD GET NAKED.”

Noah turns on Lorenzo. “HOW DARE YOU EXPOSE MY BEST FRIEND LIKE THAT. Guys, just so you all know, Lorenzo almost kissed Rava to make Gio jealous—”

“EVERYBODY STOP,” Valentina cuts in. “Enough. Do you all feel better now that you vomited your secrets on the table?”

Noah turns to Marco with starry eyes. “So you heard me being down bad over you?”

Marco nods. “Yeah. And we sent you out to get cake so I could run back to the hotel. That’s why I looked like I sprinted a marathon when you came back.”

“That makes sense,” Noah says. “I thought you were just extra stressed.”

“Well, that too,” Marco shrugs.

“I still can’t believe you came to my graduation,” Rava says quietly. “I cried in the bathroom because of you. Yes, you heard right.”

I grab him and pull him into a side hug, kissing his temple.

He stuffs a piece of bread in his mouth to pretend he’s fine. “I still have the banner with my face on it,” he adds.

“Did we ever tell you we ran into Sophia while we were buying clothes for graduation?” I say.

Rava groans. “Can you not say that name at this table in front of our child? I’ll throw up.”

“Jesus,” Noah says. “But honestly bro, God bless that girl, and me, because thanks to both of us, you two are together now. And you made your little spawn, Antonio.”

I watch Rava laughing and eating like he hasn’t seen food in ten years, nodding to himself.

“Hey, you ungrateful rats,” I say. “No one’s gonna say anything about our house slave who cooked for you all day?”

Everyone starts talking at once, throwing compliments at Rava about how everything is perfect and he’s a genius and he should open a restaurant.

Rava keeps laughing, saying “thank you” over and over, all red in the face.

Half an hour later

We’re all destroyed. Food coma level.

Noah and Marco are picking up plates, and Rava is in the living room with Lorenzo, trying to light the fireplace because we still don’t have power.

Antonio’s down for a nap for a bit. We’ll wake him up in an hour to go up to the roof for the fireworks after the countdown.

I go back to the breaker box to see what the hell is wrong.

I flip one lever up and boom, all the lights come back on.

I stand there staring.

I can’t believe Lorenzo is about to become a father. I have so much shit to teach this man.

I walk back into the living room and all the little fairy lights are on again, the whole tree is glowing, and the TV is playing Christmas music again, the same channel Jin put on earlier for Antonio.

“What time is it?” Marco asks.

“11:15,” I say, checking my phone.

“Okay, listen to me,” Lorenzo says, clapping his hands once. “At 11:55 we’re going up to the roof. Trust me, our skin is gonna freeze off, but there’s gonna be a shit ton of fireworks. You’re gonna lose your minds. Antonio is going to think it’s the second coming of Christ. Like the end of the world.”

“Start bringing your jackets and scarves over here, slowly,” Lorenzo adds. “We’re not sprinting last minute like idiots.”

I grab Rava’s hand and drag him toward our room where Antonio’s sleeping, so we can grab our stuff and pull out Antonio’s tiny puffer and hat too.

“I’m thinking about asking Noah to tattoo me tomorrow,” I say casually.

Rava looks at me, shocked. “Just like that?”

“Yeah,” I shrug. “Wanna get something matching?”

I look at him. “What? I think we’re way past the ‘mm I don’t know, what if we break up?’ phase, don’t you?”

Rava just stares at me for a second.

“Don’t swear on it,” he says. “Maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow and feel like filing for divorce. Who’s gonna stop me?”

“I am. Please don’t leave me,” I say immediately.

He bursts out laughing because I didn’t even try to pretend I’m chill.

Then he steps closer, slides his arms tight around my waist and rests his chin on my chest.

“I don’t think I can ever see my name standing alone again,” he says quietly. “It’s Gio and Rava. That’s how it exists in my head now.”

I run my fingers through his hair, thumb brushing the back of his neck. “And Antonio,” He adds.

“And the other one who doesn’t even have a name yet,” I say, laughing.

“Can you believe this year we’re gonna become girl dads?” I ask. “I’m shitting myself a little, not gonna lie.”

He toys with my wedding ring, tracing the metal. “I’m so excited,” he says.

“Same,” I admit. “Mostly because I can’t stop picturing a tiny girl with your face and your hair acting like a diva, demanding outfits, walking around in princess dresses.”

We both laugh at this.

Half an hour later

“Alright people, it’s 11:50,” Noah announces. “Grab your coats and bring the spawn.”

Rava laughs and nudges him. “Don’t call our kid spawn.”

“But he is ,” Noah says. “Now go get him.”

We head back to our room together. The second I whisper the word fireworks, Antonio shoots up like he’s late for work, completely lost in sleep.

It’s hilarious.

I think this is the first New Year’s he’ll actually kind of understand what’s happening.

We stuff him into his tiny puffer, his little hat, scarf, gloves, and head back to the living room. Everyone’s already bundled up like we’re about to cross the Arctic.

“Awwww, our baby just woke up,” Marco says, squishing Antonio’s cheeks.

“Antonio, have you ever seen fireworks up close before?” he asks.

Antonio technically has, but he looks straight at him and says, “No.”

I don’t know why he does that.

Rava shrugs. “He probably doesn’t remember.”

Marco ruffles Antonio’s hat. “What you’re about to see now, you’re never gonna forget, man. You ready?”

He nods, all serious.

We all head for the staircase to the roof. Everyone walks in a line, one behind the other, like we’re evacuating a building.

“Are we sure these stairs can handle all of us or…?” Daisy asks.

“Shut up, babe,” Lorenzo says. “These stairs have survived way worse.”

We keep climbing, hands full of blankets, and one half-asleep toddler.

Lorenzo unlocks the door at the top, pushes it open, and the cold hits us straight in the face.

We step out onto the rooftop together.

Noah starts recording again, face way too close to the camera.

“Hello again, ladies and gentlemen,” he says, all dramatic. “We took a short break to destroy some food, but we’re back to change the year with this very concerning family.”

He spins the camera around, catching the whole rooftop, the snow, the dark sky, the little shelter Lorenzo built with his bare chaotic hands.

We throw the blankets over the low wall of the small rooftop shelter, and everyone squeezes in close together.

Noah props his phone up on the ground, screen facing us, and runs back into the group.

“Does anyone actually have a watch?” Daisy asks, hugging her belly and shivering.

“Wait—” Rava says, checking his phone. “It’s starting…”

He lifts his head.

“Ten!” he shouts.

“Nine!” we all yell back.

Antonio just stares at us, trying to copy our mouths as we shout.

Daisy leans closer to him, smiling, counting along.

“Five…” she says slowly.

“Four…”

Rava scoops Antonio up in his arms and brings him closer to his chest, warming him up.

He gently takes Antonio’s little hands and helps him count on his fingers.

“Three… two… one…”

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!” everyone screams at once.

I immediately grab Rava by the neck and kiss him. He grabs my jaw, laughs into my mouth, and then we both turn and kiss Antonio’s cheeks at the same time.

And then the sky explodes.

Fireworks burst open everywhere, left, right, behind us, over the trees, above the town, painting the whole sky in every color possible.

Red, gold, blue, purple, that insane glittery white.

I put my hands gently over Antonio’s ears so the sound doesn’t scare him, and he just stares up, completely locked in, like someone just turned on his favorite show in 8K.

Everyone’s doing the same thing, heads tilted back, mouths half open.

Rava’s face is glowing from all the colors, smiling so much it actually hurts to look at him.

The view hits me right in the chest, same way it did the night I proposed to him.

Same sky. Same man.

That image got carved into my brain back then, and tonight it just digs itself in deeper.

I wrap my arms around both of them at once, Rava and Antonio, pulling them in. They’re mine.

“Happy New Year, assholes!!!” The others pile on top of us, yelling over each other.

If we were a book and someone slammed us shut right now, I’d accept it. Solid place to hit pause.

Because in this exact moment, I’m so fucking happy I could stay right here forever, with these exact people, like this.

---

And before I start the wishes… here’s the gift I promised you :)

THE PAPERBACK COVERRRS !!!

ALL THREE !!

Please be nice and tell me what you think, I made it all by myself on Canva WOOHOO

WE ALSO HIT 4 MILLION !!!! Best Christmas present ever 💕 seeing my babies be loved by more and more people every day!

I hope you all have an amazing New Year’s Eve and that next year together will be even better!!

BYE I LOVE YOU AND THANK YOU FOR THIS AMAZING YEAR ❤️

20) Rava’s Birthday (1/2)

Rava’s POV

It’s January 7th. I turn twenty-eight on a Wednesday.

Who has a birthday on a Wednesday?! Birthdays should be legally forced to fall on Saturdays.

Or at least Fridays. Wednesday is so random. It feels like the middle of a loading screen.

But I’m still weirdly happy, because today is also the first day back at school after Christmas break.

And I’ve missed my students. All of them.

Even the ones who sometimes make my eye twitch when they complain that three homework exercises are “too much” and “Mr Rava, you’re literally evil”.

This classroom is my second home, literally.

Some of the kids have picked up my phrases without even realizing. I hear little versions of me walking around the room saying stuff that only I say, and it hits me how dangerous this job actually is.

The things I say, the way I react… they stick.

Having the right teachers at this age matters so much more than anyone admits.

Mine sure did.

One of my old teachers is the reason I grew up terrified of mistakes.

He was like Charles. He used to yell like crazy whenever someone messed up an answer. You open your mouth, you get it wrong, the whole class watches him tear you apart.

After a while, you just… stop opening your mouth.

I promised myself I’d never be that kind of adult.

I grab my notebook, take a breath in the quiet of the staff room, then push the door open and step out.

By the time I reach my classroom, they’re already inside, waiting.

The moment I open the door, I don’t even get to step inside properly.

A bunch of tiny humans crash into me at once, wrapping their arms around my legs, my waist, wherever they can reach, and I burst out laughing.

“Happy birthday, Mr Rava!” they all scream together, voices overlapping, and I have no idea who to hug first.

My legs completely disappear, I look down and all I see is little heads and backpacks.

I bend down and try to hug as many of them as I can at once, still half-standing in the doorway.

“Aw, thank you all so much! How did you even remember my birthday?!” I ask, laughing.

“Sienna told us!” Vivia says.

Of course she did. She remembers everything.

And just like that, I miss Emiliana. I can’t believe time went by this fast.

She left elementary last year, and we both cried. Like, ugly cried.

She promised she’d come visit, and I told her whenever she needed help with school, she could ask me, no matter what.

We even went out once, all together with her parents. It was perfect. They are actually so chill.

She hasn’t met Antonio yet, though. And I really, really want her to.

Emiliana is important to me in a way I don’t fully know how to explain. I don’t know exactly what she said to Gio back then, but I know it mattered.

It was one of those random conversations that somehow pushed everything in the right direction and led us here.

Plus, I still have her bracelet. It hasn’t broken once since then. Not even a little.

I take care of it. Gio does too, whenever his fingers slide over it on my wrist.

I finally step all the way into the classroom.

“Good morning officially,” I say, laughing.

Nico squints at the bag in my hand. “What’s in the bag, Mr Rava? Is it sweets?”

I laugh. “Wow, you caught me. I brought something sweet to treat you for my birthday!”

The whole class erupts into cheers like I just told them school is cancelled forever.

“ But ,“ I add, lifting my hand, “we’re sharing them at break time, okay? First, you’re all going to tell me how you spent your Christmas holidays. Where you went, what presents you got. And then we start the lesson. Deal?”

They all shout “Yes!” and then somehow, miraculously, sit down quietly.

Hours pass.

We go around the room, one by one, everyone telling me where they went and what they did.

It’s kind of wild how every family does the holidays completely differently.

Some kids go to Paris. Others go nowhere.

There are moments where one kid almost makes fun of another because,

“I went to America and got ten presents,”

while the other quietly says,

“I stayed home… I got one.”

Those moments punch me right in the chest.

I feel this weird mix of sadness and responsibility, and I catch myself thinking about Antonio, what I need to teach him to do and not do.

What I want him to be like when he’s sitting in a classroom one day, listening to kids talk about their holidays.

I hate that I have to stop everything and explain that not all kids have the same opportunities.

That some parents can afford trips, and some can’t.

That some get ten presents and some get one, and it doesn’t mean anyone loves them less.

I tell them that every parent does the best they can with what they have.

That a single present bought with whatever money they could put together is worth just as much as ten expensive ones.

That their value isn’t measured in how many boxes were under a tree.

Most of them understand. Or at least, they try to.

Overall, everyone had a good time.

Except for one sweet kid whose cat died.

That one destroyed me. I cried in class.

And no, I didn’t feel embarrassed. If anything, I felt worse for even thinking I should hold it in.

I gave him two sweets instead of one. He lit up instantly and started talking about something else, basically forgot the cat in ten seconds.

Meanwhile, I was the one walking around traumatized for the rest of the day, thinking about a poor tiny cat I’ve never met.

Now I’m finally in the car, driving home. The sky is already that winter grey-blue, and my brain is tired in that teacher-way where your body feels like it’s at 5% battery.

I really hope Gio’s home. I want a hug.

I step inside and kick my shoes off.

“Hi!” I call out.

Nothing. The house is weirdly quiet. The bedroom door is closed.

I head to the bathroom, wash my hands.

I open the door and almost drop dead.

I get attacked from both sides, Gio and Antonio burst out of nowhere, yelling, “SURPRISE!” and shoving a cake in my face.

They’re both singing happy birthday, completely off-key.

Antonio is in a full dinosaur onesie, tail and everything, and Gio… yeah.

Classic Gio. All black, silver rings, like this is a funeral and not my birthday.

The cake is clearly decorated by Antonio. Emphasis on clearly .

By the time we reach the “to you” part, Antonio blows out the candles.

All of them. Very confidently. I don’t even get to inhale first.

“Dude! We agreed we would let him blow the first ones!” Gio groans.

“Oops,” Antonio says, tiny and proud.

Gio relights them with a huff.

“Come on, we’ll blow them out together, yeah?” I tell Antonio. He nods hard.

We lean in, count to three, blow together. He claps his tiny hands.

Gio sets the cake down on the counter and I pull them both in, hugging them with everything I’ve got.

I kiss Antonio’s cheeks, both of them, until he giggles, then tilt up and kiss Gio.

“Happy birthday, Ravioli,” Gio murmurs against my lips.

“Happy birthday, Dada!” Antonio echoes, arms wrapped around my waist.

I’m going to cry again.

“Thank you, guys,” I say, voice already soft. “You even got me a cake… I can’t believe it.”

“We made it,” Gio says. “You should’ve seen him. Someone got your cooking skills. He was mostly sitting on the counter chewing on a spoon but he did it with confidence, so it counts. And he helped me pour everything in.”

He smirks. “And before you pass out—yes, I filmed it. I didn’t forget. Tell me I’m amazing.”

I laugh and finally take a proper look at the cake.

It’s… a little…

I choke on a giggle. It’s leaning to one side, like it barely survived the journey from the kitchen. It absolutely looks like Antonio made it alone while Gio just supervised badly.

But Gio is looking at me like this is a Michelin star dessert.

He’s smiling way too big, on purpose, waiting for me to say it’s perfect.

“There’s a ravioli on top,” he says, pointing proudly.

I pick up the little ravioli decoration and that’s it, I lose it, laughing.

“I can’t believe you did this,” I say, my chest hurting in a good way. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. It’s even better than last year’s. I’m serious.”

Antonio grabs my hand with his tiny one, squeezing.

“I helped Daddy make it,” he says in his little baby voice, all proud of himself.

My heart just melts into nothing.

“I know you did,” I tell him, lifting him up onto my hip. “You’re amazing. I’m sure it’s going to taste incredible. Should we cut a slice and find out?”

He nods eagerly, so I set him down to go grab plates.

But Gio stops me with a hand on my arm. “Nope. You sit. I’ll get everything. You’re the birthday man.”

He kisses my cheek. “We’ll eat, and then we’ll give you your present.”

“Oh, I get a present too?” I ask, licking frosting off my thumb.

Gio gives me a look. The - are you actually dumb

• stare.

“Have I ever left you without a present? No, seriously. Has that ever happened?” he says.

I start laughing. “No. I’m sorry.”

“That’s what I thought,” he mutters.

He cuts us slices and we all dig in. I take one bite and my eyes go wide.

“Damn,” I say, around a mouthful of cake. “It’s actually good.”

“Actually?” Gio raises a brow.

I ignore him and take another forkful. It’s soft, too sweet, a bit uneven, but weirdly perfect.

“Wow,” I add, because it deserves it.

Gio basically inhales his slice and goes in for another.

He leans over and high-fives Antonio. “Well done, champ. We nailed it.”

I watch their hands.

Gio’s big, ringed, rough-knuckled one slapping against Antonio’s tiny dinosaur-sleeved palm.

I can’t even begin to imagine how happy Gio feels living all of this with little Antonio, after everything he lived with big Antonio.

How it must be to have the name back in his mouth in a completely different way.

And I really can’t imagine how it’ll feel when he starts doing things with this Antonio that he never got to do with his own dad.

All the little moments he missed.

I know him. He’s not doing any of this because he’s “supposed” to as a father.

He’s doing it for his kid and for himself. Filling that hole no one filled for him.

And I get to be here for it. I get to watch him give what he never received.

It’s… a lot. In the best way.

He sets his plate down and wipes his fingers on a napkin.

“So,” he says, looking at Antonio. “Should I go get Dada’s present, or are you getting it?”

“Me!” Antonio yells immediately.

“Okay, go,” Gio laughs, lifting him off the chair.

Antonio takes off, sprinting down the hallway in his dinosaur onesie, tail bouncing behind him.

We hear the bedroom door open, then silence.

Two minutes pass.

“You need help?” Gio calls out.

“No!” Antonio shouts back.

“What are you doing in there?” Gio asks.

“Petting Lulu.”

I choke on a laugh.

Of course.

Send the child to bring the important birthday present.

End up losing him to the cat.

They come back together, Gio and Antonio, carrying a closed, hand-drawn box between them.

Antonio is gripping one side with both hands, tongue peeking out.

Gio’s holding the other side, but Antonio keeps tugging on his sweatpants, trying to steal it from him.

“I wanna give it to him,” Gio whispers like a five-year-old.

“I wanna give it,” Antonio whispers back, equally stubborn.

Gio sighs dramatically and gives in. “Fine. Go, traitor.”

Antonio walks over and sets the box carefully on my lap, his whole face lit up.

“I know you have everything,” Gio starts, watching me, “and if something’s missing, you have enough money to buy it. So we got you something you can’t buy. No matter how much you have.”

That alone punches a smile out of me.

I have no idea what to expect now.

“Do I open it?” I ask.

They both nod at the same time.

I lift the lid and pull something out, a big, thick album.

The cover is sturdy, almost like a hardcover book. On the front, there’s a picture, the three of us, Antonio in the middle, both of us kissing his cheeks.

I already love it without even knowing what’s inside.

I open it. There’s even an introductory page. Actual title, neat writing.

“365 drawings. 365 photos.”

I look up immediately. “Tell me this is one Antonio drawing for every day of the year.”

“ And one photo for every day,“ Gio adds.

“How did you even do this?” I laugh, somewhere between shocked and overwhelmed.

“Every day you were gone, Picasso here went into art mode,” Gio says, ruffling Antonio’s hair. “I kept all of them. One drawing for every day, mister.”

“And behind each drawing, there’s a photo of us,” he continues. “We’ve taken, like, over ten thousand thanks to you, so I tried to find the best ones. Under each one I wrote one of those dumb jokes your teacher-ass loves. You said you were running out of them for your lessons, so… now you’ve got 365 new ones. You’re welcome.”

I laugh out loud as I flip the first page, tears already burning at the back of my eyes.

“I can’t believe you did this,” I say. “You’re unreal, Gio. How did you even think of this?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. When I thought about what Rava needs, the only thing I kept hearing you say was ‘Jesus, I need more creative jokes, I don’t wanna be the boring teacher.’ So I followed a bunch of stupid joke pages for you.”

He points at the album. “And for the drawings, I asked Antonio what makes you happy. He said you’re always happy when you look at your art, so he suggested we give you a lot more so your happiness multiplies. His words, not mine.”

Antonio nods very seriously. “I made these, Dada,” he says, pointing at the album.

Like there was any chance I wouldn’t know.

Before I fully process it, I’m actually crying.

“Oh no,” Gio says immediately, sliding closer and wrapping his arms around me. I laugh through it, embarrassed, wiping at my face.

“Daddy, why is Dada crying?” Antonio asks, genuinely worried. “Didn’t you… like them?”

“No, baby,” I say quickly, shaking my head. “Your drawings are perfect.”

“Sometimes when we’re really happy, we cry,” Gio explains gently. “Remember when you cried when we gave you that car you wanted for days?”

Antonio shakes his head no.

Gio laughs and hugs me tighter, rubbing my back. “Okay, well, Dada just got really happy with our present. And he hasn’t even opened it properly yet to see inside. That means we’re incredible. High five again.”

They high-five over my shoulder.

“Good,” Gio adds. “Now go hug him too. I think he’ll like that.”

Antonio throws himself into my arms and I catch him with a small, wrecked laugh.

I open the album again and start going through the pages properly this time.

Antonio shuffles closer, climbing halfway onto my lap so he can explain every single drawing like a tiny tour guide.

I flip to one with a huge pink monster taking up the whole page.

“What monster is this?” I ask him.

He frowns. “It’s not a monster. It’s Lolezo!”

“Oh,” I say. “Right. Sorry. My mistake.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, trying not to laugh.

I glance up at Gio and he’s already looking at me, clearly fighting his own smile.

I turn the page and see a photo on the back, a shot of Lorenzo holding Antonio upside down, both of them laughing like absolute menaces.

Underneath, in Gio’s handwriting, it says:

Joke of the day:

-What do you call a math book that’s sad?

-Full of problems.

I laugh out loud, like actually snort.

Gio laughs just because I’m laughing. “Is it good enough to tell your students?” he asks.

I nod. “Yeah, it’s good. Thank you, baby.”

He looks so pleased with himself it’s ridiculous.

I can’t picture him sitting there while I’m gone, scrolling through joke pages, picking them out and writing them down one by one.

It’s… insanely sweet. I can’t wait to read all of them.

Next to me, Antonio lets out a giant yawn, his dinosaur hood slipping back a little.

“Hmm,” I say, smoothing his hair. “Someone’s getting sleepy. Might be time for afternoon nap.”

“But I wanna see them too…” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes.

I pull him closer, pressing a kiss on top of his head. “You’re going to bed now, and when you wake up, we’ll look through all the rest together. I promise I’ll wait for you, okay?”

He pouts. “Okay… don’t look at them alone, please.”

I laugh and hug him tighter. “I promise. I’ll wait for you.”

Gio scoops him up in his arms.

“I’ll put him down,” he says. “You go change, shower, do whatever you wanna do and then wait for me in the living room.”

He leans in closer, his mouth brushing my ear. “I have two more presents,” he murmurs.

I pull back and stare at him. “Two?”

He nods once.

“Say bye to Dada,” he tells Antonio.

“Byebye, Dada,” Antonio mumbles, already half-asleep against his shoulder.

“Byebye, baby. Sleep well,” I say, reaching up to stroke his hair one more time.

He loves his afternoon nap. Honestly, I’m a little jealous.

Gio disappears down the hallway with him.

---

HAHA YOU WANTED SMUT 😼

That scene’s coming next.

I couldn’t bring myself to squeeze it into the same chapter, it’s a whole different vibe. But I promise it’s gonna be worth it, hehe.

🎉Paperback update:🎉

For those of you who don’t have Instagram, here you go! I finished the drawing that will be included in the physical book :)

All that’s left is one final read-through, and then I’m uploading it!

I can’t believe it. I’ll try to post the next chapter tomorrow!!!

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH BYEBYE ❤️

ALSO ONCE AGAIN, THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING.

21) Rava’s Birthday (2/2)

Hey guys, I’m sorry this chapter is a bit short… I have to finish 7 drawings within a week and my time is a little limited!! I promise the next one will be longer :)

(not longer than gio’s dih)

Rava’s POV

Antonio is asleep. I’ve showered, changed into something soft, and now I’m stretched out on the couch.

Gio is using my stomach as a pillow apparently, because he’s wedged between my legs under the blanket, cheek pressed to my shirt like I’m his personal mattress.

“Rava,” he mumbles, lifting his head a little.

He looks hesitant. Which is funny, because nothing about this man has ever been hesitant in his life.

“Will you go on a date with me?” he asks.

“No,” I answer immediately.

“Fuck you, I’m leaving this fuck-ass house,” he says, already trying to get up.

I have to cover my mouth so I don’t wake Antonio up with laughter.

I grab Gio by the hoodie and pull him back down.

“No, no, wait, we can talk about this!” I say, tugging him closer.

“A date…” I add, pretending to think. “Don’t you think that’s a huge step?”

He turns his head and bites my waist gently. My skin is dramatic, so it hurts more than it should.

“Hey,” I hiss, smacking his head. He smacks mine back.

“Listen to me,” he says. “I wanna take you out. Like, a real date. Somewhere nice to eat. For your birthday. You keep dressing up nice and classy only for school, dress up for me too.”

He’s playing with our engagement ring on my finger while he talks, twisting it around, thumb rubbing over the metal.

The truth is, it’s been a while since our last proper outing.

I miss walking next to him in public, watching people trip over themselves looking at him.

When we have Antonio with us, it’s even worse. We turn into some kind of celebrity family.

People flock to us, poking at the baby like he’s a science exhibit. They ask how we “got” him and all sorts of questions like we’re close friends and not total strangers they met on the street.

I kind of miss being looked at just for us , not because they’re fascinated we made a family.

I run my fingers through his hair, smoothing it back, then trace the line of his forehead with my thumb.

“Okay,” I say softly. “Let’s go on a date. But just so you know, I don’t sleep with someone on the first date.”

He looks up at me. “Bold of you to assume I wanna go to bed with you.”

I laugh and I’m about to clap back when my phone starts ringing on the table.

I reach for it. “Oh.”

“What?”

“It’s my old friend from Canada again, Daniel.” I say, staring at the screen.

“Pick it up then, what are you waiting for?”

I nod. “Hi, Daniel.”

The word is barely out of my mouth when I feel Gio’s hand slip under the blanket and into my sweatpants.

My smile freezes.

Before I can even process what’s happening, he’s got his hand on my dick, and my eyes go wide.

I shove at his shoulder with my free hand, trying to keep the phone steady with the other, but he doesn’t move.

If anything, he squeezes.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!” Daniel shouts, and that’s when Gio takes my dick into his mouth and starts sucking.

“Jesus—thank you, Daniel, thank you so much.”

Gio wraps both my thighs in his arms and shoves his head deeper between my legs.

I rub my face. “Um, how’s Canada?”

“Same as you left it, Rava. What about you? What’s your sexy husband up to?”

Oh, you don’t want to know, I think. He’s definitely not sucking my dick under the blanket right now.

“He’s—good! Uh. Around. Somewhere,” I say, biting my lips so I don’t start moaning.

I grab Gio’s hair tighter and move his head up and down.

“Please tell him hi from me. And give him a slap from me too. He stole you from here and now I’ve got no one to play poker with.”

I laugh and smack Gio under the blanket. He kisses my hand, then licks me again from the base all the way up.

Christ, how is he so good at this? It feels like my entire soul is draining out through my dick.

“Just did,” I say.

“And how’s your kid doing?”

Oh my God, Daniel, you picked the perfect moment to check in on my personal growth.

I push Gio again, but the asshole won’t budge.

Nothing can stop him when he wants dick, swear to God, once he locks in, he does not let go.

“Our kid… yeah… perfect! Doing great. Sleeping.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “I’ll video call you later—”

Gio’s hand joins in. At the same time as his mouth. He’s doing it on purpose, I swear.

His hand and his mouth move in the same rhythm, up and down.

“I’ll call you so you can see him… if you want. When he wakes up.”

“Perfect!” Daniel says. “Happy birthday again, poker freak.”

“Thank you so much,” I whisper, eyes clenched tight.

He hangs up and I rip the blanket off his head. “Are you insane?”

“What?” he says, eyes glinting. “I’m just giving you your second birthday gift.”

He’s looking right at me while he puts me back in his mouth like it’s nothing.

He yanks the blanket off himself too now, like he wants the view to be crystal clear.

My back arches. I grab one of the throw pillows and cover my face, biting it, sweating, because holy shit, our kid is literally asleep in the next room.

Gio does not care.

He’s doing everything he possibly can to make me scream.

Still going. Head bobbing, tongue everywhere, spit running down while he’s baptizing my dick in it.

It’s obscene. I’m twitching, mumbling things I don’t even hear coming out of my mouth.

I’ve held it in long enough. I can’t take it anymore.

I cum hard right into his mouth, and he doesn’t stop.

Keeps sucking through it. Keeps his lips wrapped around me, swallowing every last drop.

I grab the couch like it’ll save me. Like something has to save me, because this is demonic.

I’m going to die. I’m going to fucking die, and my cause of death is going to be “the most violent blowjob known to man.”

He grabs my thighs and I accidentally push his head in too far, but of course he doesn’t complain.

Of course he just fucking takes it.

By the time I’m done, my heart’s in my throat.

My chest is rising like I just ran for my life.

I lift the blanket again. His cheeks are red. Like someone painted them.

His lips are red too, swollen and wet, and he’s grinning, proud.

Fucking proud of himself.

He pulls me in by the neck and kisses me. “That was your second gift.”

I don’t even answer. I’m still dizzy from the orgasm, barely breathing.

This is peak life. I don’t even know who to thank.

Is this like… a reward? For being humble all those years?

Because honestly, lately? It feels like life’s spoiling the shit out of me.

Not complaining. Not even a little. I just can’t wrap my head around how lucky I feel to be here.

---

Hey again :) I know, I know, it was short. Leave me alone.

BUT the good news is: first of all, the paperback is ready for publishing and it’ll be up sometime this week, AND I’m officially a tattoo artist now, people :)

OH YES—and my new boss said he’s sure I’ll become one of the best in Greece.

Remember me when I’m famous, okay? Whether it’s for my drawings or my books, just KNOW I will be famous.

But I’ll never be a nonchalant diva. I’ll always be here to talk with you, and you should also know that I love you all so much :)

My studio often travels to other countries for tattoo events, so I’ll keep you posted so you can come and get tattooed by me hehehehehehehehe

Also I’ll probably literally end up tattooing a disco ball on me soon.

BYE I’M OFF TO DRAW NOW ❤️

22) Don’t Trust Anyone

Rava’s POV

I’ve got a rare day off and I don’t even know what to do with that.

Antonio is at my mom’s, the house is quiet for once, and I’m just… waiting for Gio to come back so we can eat together. Maybe put on a movie.

Who am I kidding, he’s got the gym later, he’s definitely gonna say no to the movie.

Whatever. I’ll annoy him until he caves.

The doorbell goes off.

Oh.

I glance at the clock. It’s only noon. He said he’d be here after 12:30.

No way he’s early. That’s illegal for Gio.

I get up, walk to the door, and peek through the peephole.

Two guys. A bit older than me, maybe. They look like they just walked out of prison or a very specific part of Gio’s past he never lets me meet.

Jesus.

“Um… who is it?” I ask before even touching the lock.

“Hey, Rava!” one of them calls, too casual, too loud. “Sorry for dropping by out of nowhere, don’t freak out. We’re two of Gio’s friends, he told us to swing by and drop off some books he borrowed or some shit.”

The other one lifts his hands like he’s getting arrested. “Don’t stress, man. We’re not cops. He hates them, you know that.”

They both laugh at their own joke.

I’m still staring through the peephole like a freak, brain trying to cross–reference their faces with literally anything Gio might’ve mentioned.

Nothing.

The first guy adds, “Also, tell him Duke said he needs a haircut.”

I snort despite myself. Of course he has a friend called Duke.

I unlock the door and open it a little.

“Hey. And yeah, sorry for the surprise visit,” he says, smiling.

“Here.” He hands me a plastic bag.

“Thanks,” I say, laughing a bit. “You’re so sweet for bringing them.”

“I know, right?” he grins. “Can’t believe Gio turned into a family man. Swear to God, we all thought he’d die alone. No offense.”

We both laugh, because… yeah, fair.

“I’m glad he proved you all wrong,” I say.

I look at the other guy. He’s shifting from foot to foot, jittery like he’s got ants in his pants.

“You good?” I ask.

“Yeah, I just really need to piss, man. I’m gonna explode.” He looks at the first guy. “Can we go?”

“Wanna come in? We’ve got a bathroom,” I offer, already stepping back a little to make space.

“Oh, no, no, it’s fine, we don’t wanna bother you—”

“It’s not a bother,” I cut him off with a small laugh. “Come on, it’s just the bathroom.”

He hesitates for half a second, then shrugs. “Alright, cool. Thanks, man.”

“Make it quick,” Duke tells him, rolling his eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

They step inside and I close the door behind them.

“The bathroom’s down the hall, all the way in, left,” I say, pointing.

“Lifesaver, bro, thanks,” the guy says, already heading that way.

I glance at the other guy while his friend disappears down the hall.

He’s standing in the middle of the living room, eyes moving slowly over everything.

The couch. The shelves. The photos. The plants Gio swears he doesn’t care about but waters secretly.

“Nice place,” he says. “I’m lowkey jealous of Gio, not gonna lie.”

I laugh. “Yeah, it’s cozy.”

“Cozy,” he repeats, like he’s testing the word. “Yeah. Cozy.”

He keeps looking around and my stomach does that warm, stupid thing it does whenever someone says something good about our life.

“Do you want something to eat?” I ask. “I can make you a sandwich or something.”

He shakes his head immediately. “No, I’m good, sweetheart. You’re already letting my dumbass friend use your bathroom, that’s enough.”

I smile, feeling my face heat up.

“So, how do you know Gio?” I ask, leaning against the wall.

“Oh, man. We go way back. The amount of races we’ve done together?” He waves a hand. “Crazy. Your husband is a legend.”

My husband.

I can’t help it, I look down and smile like an idiot.

I love hearing other people hype him up. It makes me feel less insane for thinking he’s the coolest person on earth.

“Were you at the race? The one with the Escobar incident?” I ask.

“Bro, yeah,” he says immediately. “What even was that?! I didn’t think Escobar was that pressed. That move was so childish.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” I answer, getting into it. “Like, over what? Ego?”

“Pure ego. Dude can’t handle losing. Especially not to Gio.”

From down the hall, the other guy shouts. “Rava, dude, do you have any toilet paper? I think this one’s out!”

Out? Seriously??

My brain kicks me in the face.

How did I let the bathroom run out of toilet paper?

I never let that happen. I’m slacking. I need to get my life together, actually.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry!” I call back. “Hang on, I’ll grab some from the storage room!”

“Take your time, bro!” he yells. “I’m not going anywhere!”

I huff a laugh and head to the little storage room, open the cupboard where we keep the extra packs.

Thank God I bought a ton yesterday, because imagine the humiliation.

I’m reaching for the plastic-wrapped pack when I hear it.

The door behind me. Closing.

Click.

Lock.

I freeze. Turn around fast.

The handle doesn’t move.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

No.

“Sorry, man. Nothing personal. With you .”

His voice comes through the door and my blood runs cold.

“Open the fucking door!” I scream, slamming my palms against it. “You don’t understand—I’ll give you whatever you want! I swear, just get me out of this room!”

I sound completely desperate and I am.

I yank the handle again and again, throw my shoulder into it, useless.

The lock doesn’t even pretend to move.

I clamp my hand over my mouth as it hits me what I just did.

What a massive, life-ruining fuckup I just pulled.

Gio is going to come home and—

Oh my God.

I press my ear to the door and I can hear them. Going through everything.

Drawers. Shelves. Doors.

Stuff being dragged, things hitting the floor, wood, metal, glass, I don’t even know.

I keep fighting the door, and trying not to cry at the same time. I’m failing both.

The room gets smaller.

“Please,” I beg, voice breaking. “Please, if it’s money, I’ll give it to you, okay? I’ll give you whatever you want, I won’t be a problem. Just don’t do this. Please don’t.”

Another crash. Something falls, then another.

One of them curses, the other one answers, they’re moving faster now.

It’s over.

I can already smell the divorce.

I’d sign it myself. I’d deserve it.

I am the most irresponsible man alive and right now I hate myself more than I’ve ever hated anybody in my entire life.

“Shit—” he gasps, and now the footsteps are heavier, like they’re lifting something big.

The bike. Gio’s bike.

I don’t know which one. But I know it’s a bike.

Tears spill over, sliding down my cheeks while my brain plays out exactly what’s about to happen in a few minutes.

Gio walking into a wrecked house. Our safe place turned inside out.

His things gone. His bike gone.

And me, his idiot of a husband, locked in a fucking storage room because I let two strangers into our home like the dumbest man alive.

He’s going to open that door and see a destroyed house and a failed spouse who literally invited the danger in.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” I choke into the door, voice shaking. “Gio, I’m so fucking sorry.”

I hear Gio’s car.

My whole body is shaking at a level that should probably be medically studied.

I don’t even know what exactly is waiting outside this door.

I have no idea what he’s about to walk into. But judging by the sounds I heard before, it’s fucking bad.

And it’s completely my fault. All of it is my fault and my idiot, soft-brained, “trust people” personality.

He warned me. He literally warned me.

Don’t trust anyone, Rava.

There are people who want me dead, Rava.

And I, world’s biggest clown, opened the door and let in two men who looked like prison is their summer camp, because I thought they were his friends!

Because I’m stupid enough to believe that if someone smiles and knows a couple of stories, they must be safe!

They played me right in my face.

And the worst part is that Antonio could’ve been here.

God. Antonio could’ve been here.

They could’ve taken him and then I swear to God I’d be looking for a fucking rope because there’d be no coming back from that.

None.

I hear the front door now. My breath stops.

I cover my face with both hands, shaking, as I hear Gio’s steps getting closer, heavier, faster.

“What the fuck happened in here?” his voice explodes from outside, and my stomach knots so hard I feel sick. “Rava?! Are you in there?”

“Yes,” I manage, voice small and wrecked.

He unlocks the door, pulls it open, and I’m standing there with my hand over my mouth, eyes red, shaking like I just survived a natural disaster.

“Gio, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know, I thought they were your friends—” I start rambling through sobs and stuttering breath.

I step out of the storage room.

Our bedroom? Torn apart. Drawers open, clothes half on the floor, half hanging out, stuff thrown everywhere.

Gio’s office looks untouched, thank God, it’s locked.

Probably didn’t have time to crack it.

The living room? Wrecked. Couch cushions flipped, shelves half-empty, TV gone, things on the floor that definitely weren’t on the floor before.

Antonio’s room. All his toys are out, scattered, like someone shook the room upside down and left it like that.

I grab my head with both hands, dizzy, trying not to throw up from the guilt and panic.

“Wanna explain to me what the fuck happened?” Gio snaps next to me.

“There were two guys,” I say, words tripping over each other. “Older. They said they were your friends—”

“You let two fucking strangers into our house???” he yells.

I nod, wiping my face, hating myself. “I know. I know, I was irresponsible—”

“Irresponsible?!” He laughs once, bitter. “That’s a light word for this shit. Do you realize what the fuck could’ve happened???”

His voice cracks on the last part, more rage than volume, and it makes it worse.

“If the fucking kid was here?” he shouts. “If our kid was in this house while you were playing host???”

He has every right to scream at me. Every right. And I stand there and take it, staring at the floor.

“Gio, I know,” I say. “I swear, I had no idea, they talked like they knew you, they—”

“How many fucking times have I told you NOT to trust randoms unless I already told you who they are?” he fires back. “Are you out of your damn mind?? Have you completely lost it?”

He gestures around wildly at the chaos. “You could’ve fucking DIED, do you get that?! Do you actually understand that? You could’ve fucking died like this.”

I nod. Again. And again. And again. Every word hits like a slap, and I let it.

Because he’s right. It hurts like hell, but he’s right.

He drops down onto the floor and grabs his head with both hands, elbows on his knees, staring at nothing.

“I can’t fucking believe this,” he mutters. “Swear to God, I thought you were smarter than this, Rava.”

“I told you I didn’t know!” I snap back. “They said you borrowed some books and you told them to return them here—”

“Oh my God HAVE I TOUCHED A SINGLE FUCKING BOOK IN THE LAST FIVE YEARS?!?!” he yells, eyes snapping up to mine.

“IT COULD’VE BEEN FOR WORK, I DON’T KNOW!” I shout, voice cracking.

He lets out this hysterical, disbelieving laugh and shakes his head, side to side, like he’s trying to rattle the whole scene off his brain.

“I don’t fucking believe this,” he says again, quieter but so much worse.

I don’t know what to say. My mouth opens, closes.

I look up at the ceiling because if I look at him any longer I’ll fall apart completely.

“If you want to break up, I get it—” I start.

“Shut up, Rava.” His head snaps toward me. “Seriously. Enough. This isn’t about a fucking breakup. Even though your level of cluelessness is fucking terrifying.”

That one lands right in the center of my chest.

“When you have a fucking family,” he goes on, “you are not nice to strangers at your door. You don’t play polite. You don’t invite them in. How did you even let them inside?!?! Why?!”

I swallow hard.

“He… he said he needed the bathroom,” I mumble. “One of them. And then he yelled for toilet paper and when I went to grab some, he locked me in.”

Gio exhales, like he’s trying not to explode.

“Jesus fucking Christ…”

We both just sit there in the wrecked house, surrounded by the mess.

“Maybe we can find them,” I mutter. “One of them was called Duke. He had a tattoo on the back of his head, like a cross, and a scar near his eye—”

“You seriously think,” Gio cuts in, staring at me, “that he gave you his real name, Rava? What even is Duke?! A nickname? A dog? A fucking brand of cigarettes? Come on.”

I shrink a little. “I’m just saying—”

“Just stop,” he says, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re making it worse.”

Right. Of course I am.

“For starters,” he goes on, tired and furious all at once, “we need to change fucking houses. I assume you get that much.”

I nod.

“At least temporarily,” he says. “We’re either going back to Trentino or to my mom’s. I don’t know yet. But not here. Not until I’m sure those two are rotting in a cell somewhere.”

I nod again, faster this time. “Okay.”

He doesn’t look at me. His eyes keep scanning the room instead.

Antonio’s toys on the floor, the drawers, the chaos.

His jaw keeps clenching.

I want to ask what’s going to happen to us. To me and him.

Because right now it feels like he hates me. He won’t even look at my face.

Gio looks up suddenly, like something just clicked in his head.

“Why the fuck is my helmet here?” he mutters.

I follow his gaze. It’s on the floor by the hallway, tipped on its side like someone kicked it.

We look at each other for half a second, and then we both move at the same time, straight to the garage door next to us.

He yanks it open.

The spot where his bike should be, his shiny, perfect birthday present from the guys is just… air.

No BMW.

Just the oil stain on the floor where it usually rests.

He laughs.

“Fuck this, man,” he says, and walks right past me, out of the garage.

“Gio—” I try, following him back into the house.

He heads for the front door. Opens it.

“Should I come—” I start, reaching out.

The door slams in my face.

I flinch back.

I stand there, staring at the door.

And yeah. I deserve that.

I swallow hard and step back, looking around the house.

I really let this happen.

I lean my head against the wall, eyes closing for a second as my brain replays everything frame by frame.

Honestly, I want to bash my head into the wall until the image of it disappears.

I can’t believe how stupid I am. Like actually, genuinely, clinically stupid.

If I had just stayed quiet. If I had just pretended I wasn’t home. If I had looked through the peephole, seen two guys who look like tax fraud in human form and thought, yeah, no.

If I had just let the dude piss his pants at the door.

If he was even telling the truth about needing to piss.

Nothing would’ve happened.

The bike would still be here. The house wouldn’t feel see-through. Gio wouldn’t have that look in his eyes.

Instead, I invited them in. I literally walked danger into the center of our fucking life and said, “Bathroom’s down the hall.”

Now we’re standing in a house that doesn’t feel like a house anymore.

It feels exposed. Like the walls are made of glass and everyone can see in.

And it’s because of me.

Because I couldn’t say no. Because I wanted to be polite.

Because I thought being kind was always the right answer.

Turns out, sometimes it just hands your husband’s keys and his fucking bike to a stranger.

This is my fault.

The thought hits and doesn’t stop.

This is my fault. This is my fault. This is my fucking fault.

I look at the mess again and it feels like I’m watching a crime scene of my own stupidity.

They went through everything.

If Antonio was here…

My vision goes blurry.

If Antonio was here.

They could’ve walked in, smiled at me, smiled at him, told him they were Gio’s friends, and I would’ve believed them.

Antonio would’ve believed them because he trusts me.

Because I’m the idiot that keeps telling him, “Say hi, be polite, don’t be rude.”

They could’ve grabbed him. Walked out.

And I would’ve been locked in that closet listening.

Now there will be a new space between us.

The: I don’t trust you.

I replay it in my head, over and over.

Swear to God, I thought you were smarter than this, Rava.

Your level of cluelessness is terrifying.

When you have a fucking family, you’re not nice to strangers at your door.

I thought I was doing the right thing. That’s the worst part.

I opened the door because I didn’t want to be rude.

Because they smiled. Because they knew his name, they knew about the races, they said “your husband is a legend” and it made me feel… proud.

I wanted to be the kind of person that people trust around our house.

The kind of husband that can handle stuff when Gio’s not here.

Instead I locked myself in a fucking storage room and let two strangers tear through our life.

I drag in a shaky breath and it breaks halfway, turning into a sob. I clamp a hand over my mouth, but it’s too late. The sound already slipped out.

I ruined everything.

If we move, it’ll be because of me. If Gio never feels safe at home again, it’ll be because of me. If he never lets me open the door again, if he never leaves me alone with Antonio again, if he never looks at me the same way again.

A sob punches its way out of me.

My shoulders shake. Tears fall, dripping off my chin onto a pile of fucking scattered papers I probably destroyed too.

He is never gonna trust me again.

Because I invited danger in once, so now he has to prepare like it’s going to happen again.

The house used to be the one place he relaxed.

Now it’s just another battlefield.

Because of me.

I always thought my softness was a good thing.

The part of me that balances him out. The reason Antonio feels safe crawling into my lap at night, the reason Gio lets his guard down in our bed, in our kitchen, in stupid little domestic moments that feel like miracles.

But right now all I can think is that my softness almost put a target on their backs.

My kindness is a fucking security risk.

My brain keeps telling me the same thing.

You failed him. You failed your kid. You failed your family.

What kind of husband does that?

I squeeze my eyes shut and more tears fall. It’s stupid, because crying doesn’t fix shit, but I can’t stop.

A part of me wants to crawl to him.

Grab his shirt.

Beg.

Please don’t stop loving me. Please don’t give up on me. Please don’t take Antonio and go somewhere safer without me because, honestly, I wouldn’t even blame you if you did but I don’t know how to breathe in a world where you both exist and I’m not there.

But I don’t move.

Because if I was him, I don’t know if I’d touch me either right now.

So I sit there, breaking down quietly on the floor of the house I just made unlivable, trying to breathe through the panic and the guilt and the image of divorce papers that keep flashing through my head.

If I lose them over this, if this is the reason, then I deserve it.

Thank God Lulu and Blu are with Daisy and Lorenzo.

If they had touched them too, I wouldn’t be standing here trying to fix this.

I wouldn’t even wait for Gio to decide what to do with me.

I’d pack my shit, walk out of this family myself and sign my own exit papers.

I wouldn’t need him to leave me. I’d leave me first.

Now what?

I just stand there like an idiot in the middle of the hallway.

Do I lock the door? Do I go get Antonio? Do I pretend I’m useful for once?

Would it even matter if I locked it now? They already came in. They already did what they wanted.

Locking it feels like putting a band–aid on a bullet hole.

My first instinct is run.

Go to Antonio. See him. Touch him. Make sure he’s okay. I want to pick him up and not put him down for the next four years.

But Gio’s already on his way there. I know he is.

He probably got in the car the second he left. He’s not stupid. He knows what matters most.

And if I show up?

Yeah. I can practically feel it. He doesn’t want to see me right now.

I saw it in his eyes before he left. That wall.

That new distance that wasn’t there this morning when we were joking about breakfast.

So what do I do?

I lock the front door gently. Because that’s all I’ve got left, a useless gesture that makes me feel like I’m doing something.

Then I look around at the wreckage.

Half of our life is on the floor.

Gio said it and he was right:

We can’t stay here.

Just the thought of sleeping here tonight makes my skin crawl.

Knowing some random assholes walked around in our rooms, touched our things, knew exactly where we live… no.

The house doesn’t feel like a home anymore.

It’s a crime scene.

So I do the only thing that makes sense.

I start picking up.

I grab an empty box from the closet, the ones we never threw away from the last move, and I start filling it with whatever looks like it belongs to us and not to this mess.

Antonio’s favorite stuffed animal goes in first. Then his favorite book. The blue hoodie he always wears when it’s cold.

I fold it carefully, even though my hands are shaking.

Next box. Our documents. The ones I can find, at least. I smooth out the crumpled edges, wipe tears off one of them with my sleeve.

Part of me wants to sit down and scream. Another part wants to curl up and disappear.

But my body keeps moving because if I stop, I’m going to think.

And if I think, I’m going to fall apart.

Maybe this is the only thing I can do for Gio right now.

He doesn’t want to see me. He doesn’t trust me. He’s furious and terrified.

But when he comes back, Antonio will be safe in his arms, and at least the first boxes will be packed.

Clothes ready. Toys ready.

If we’re running, I can at least make sure we don’t run empty–handed.

I stack another pile of shirts. Push down another wave of guilt. My eyes keep burning, but I keep going.

I don’t know what’s going to happen with us after this.

If he’s going to forgive me. If he’s ever going to look at me the same way again.

But one thing I know for sure, is that he’s right.

We can’t stay here. And it’s because of me.

23) Go Big or Go Home

Wattpad doesn’t always send notifications when I upload two chapters close together, so make sure you’ve read the previous chapter before starting this one :)

Rava’s POV

It’s late afternoon and I’m in Lorenzo’s car, forehead almost glued to the window, watching everything pass.

Noah and Daisy are in the back. Marco’s working, poor thing, couldn’t come.

Gio’s… silent.

He took Antonio and drove here alone earlier.

I didn’t argue. Didn’t ask to go with them. Didn’t say anything. I’m hoping we’ll manage to talk tonight.

For now, I’m just giving him space and trying not to throw up from the guilt.

“Stop being sad,” Lorenzo says, one hand on the wheel, the other tapping against it. “I don’t like sad Rava. It’s weird.”

“How am I supposed to not be sad?” I mumble, still looking at the road. “They literally stole everything we have because of me. Gio’s never gonna forgive me.”

Daisy reaches forward and pets my arm gently from the back seat. “Rava, we all know that’s not true,” she says softly. “He’s mad right now, and I’m sure he doesn’t even fully realize how harsh he’s being. He’s freaking out too. All of you are upset instead of just being grateful you’re all okay and nothing happened to you.”

“Don’t you find it normal, though?” I shoot back, looking at her over my shoulder. “They stole his bike and our house looks like a tent after a hurricane. I let two random gangster strangers into our home. If I were him, I’d be disappointed too.”

“I think we’re gonna manage to find them,” Noah says from behind me. “Just give it some time. There’s no way they leave zero trace. Something will lead back to them.”

“I agree,” Lorenzo adds. “I’ll look into it too. They clearly knew Gio, or at least knew of him. That means there are connections. And I like digging.”

I let out a long sigh and fog up the window, tracing a random line in the condensation with my finger.

I feel like shit.

Not even about my stuff being in some stranger’s hands right now.

What hurts more is that my favorite person on earth isn’t talking to me.

“You froze all the cards and everything, right? In case they took something?” Daisy asks.

“Yeah,” I nod. “I did everything. One card’s missing. All the rest are here.”

She nods back. Noah whistles low.

We finally pull up to the house. The one we stayed during Christmas holidays.

We all get out and start unloading the car.

I see lights on inside. Gio’s already here.

I immediately hope he dressed Antonio properly, because it’s freezing.

My mom would smack both of us if she knew we had the kid out in this cold without ten layers.

Lorenzo heads toward the door first.

“I’m going in to see where his head is at,” he tells me over his shoulder. “In general, let’s keep some chill, yeah? You’re not gonna gain anything by fighting right now.”

“Tell him that, not me,” I mumble, pulling a bag out of the trunk.

“I will tell him,” Lorenzo says. “And if he disagrees, I’ll smack him. You need to be on the same team in this. Not against each other. Jesus.”

I nod, and keep taking our things out of the car.

“I wish we could just stay here,” Noah says, coming around the car and wrapping his arms around me from the side, pulling me into a quick hug. “But we’re working.”

“It’s okay.”

“Call me when everything’s okay, alright?” he says, pulling back just enough to look at me. “Don’t forget. I’ll be waiting. I don’t care if it’s 4 AM, just update me.”

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Thank you, Noah.”

“Now go inside,” he says, nudging me lightly. “It’s cold as fuck. Tell Antonio I said hi. And Rava?”

I look back at him.

“Don’t be ridiculously harsh on yourself,” he says. “You didn’t know. You didn’t do it on purpose. Okay?”

My eyes sting immediately. I smile a little, watery, and hug him tight.

“I really want to believe that,” I say. “Even if I can’t yet.”

He squeezes my shoulder and lets go. I exhale, wave at them both.

Lorenzo comes back down the steps just as they’re about to leave.

“He’s about to get in the shower,” he tells me. “He’s still a bit wired, but definitely not as bad as before. Try talking to him.”

I nod again. I think that’s all I’ve been doing today.

Nodding.

“Goodbye, baby,” Lorenzo says, kissing my forehead dramatically. “Good luck. If you find anything out, call us.”

“Thank you, Lorenzo,” I say with a small smile.

He heads back to the car, and I turn toward the house.

I walk up to the door, and step inside, closing it behind me and locking every single lock.

I walk down the hallway slowly.

I feel like I don’t belong here with them. Like I’m walking into someone else’s life.

This is the room where at Christmas I sat on the edge of the bed with a thermometer and tissues, forcing tea down Gio’s throat while he shivered.

Now he can’t even look at me.

I feel wrong just being here. Like I crashed a party I wasn’t invited to.

I push the bedroom door open and step inside with our bags, placing them down quietly near the dresser, trying not to make noise.

“Hi,” I say, with a small voice.

Antonio lifts his little hand immediately and waves, then walks over to me.

I scoop him up and he tucks himself under my chin, completely unaware of how fucked everything is.

Gio doesn’t say hi. Doesn’t nod. Doesn’t even glance at me.

I swallow it down and focus on the fact that our kid is here, in my arms, safe.

“Hey, bean,” I murmur, pressing a kiss against his hair. “You’re not cold, right?”

He shakes his head, his hair brushing my jaw.

“No?” I smile. “Daddy dressed you well. That’s why you’re not cold.”

Before I can cling to him a second longer, Gio steps over.

Doesn’t touch me. Doesn’t say excuse me. Just lifts Antonio right out of my arms.

“Come on. Bath time,” he says to him.

My hands fall empty to my sides.

Antonio looks back at me over Gio’s shoulder, lip pushed out just a bit.

There’s this sad, confused look in his eyes, like he can feel the distance even if he doesn’t understand it.

I force a tiny smile at him and wiggle my fingers in a wave.

“Go,” I whisper. “It’s okay.”

They disappear toward the bathroom together.

The second the bathroom door closes, I break again. Even though I wasn’t planning to.

I am staring at the empty space where Antonio was in my arms two seconds ago, feeling like someone just yanked my entire life out of my chest and walked off with it.

The house is quiet, except for the water starting in the bathroom.

I sit down on the floor, right there by the bed, back against the side of it.

Then I slide further until I’m basically just folded on myself, knees up, arms around them.

The second my head drops, the tears come.

I press my face into my knees and try to breathe.

My eyes burn, my nose is blocked, my throat hurts.

Every breath feels wrong.

Is this it? Is this gonna be my life now?

I know I fucked up. I know it.

I’ve replayed it a thousand times in my head already.

I know I made a tragic mistake.

But I don’t think I deserve the death penalty for it.

That’s what it feels like, a little. Like I’m being sentenced.

He took Antonio straight out of my arms.

I wipe my face with the back of my hand, but more tears replace them immediately.

I’m not a monster. I would never hurt Antonio. I would literally die before I let something happen to him.

But that’s the thing, right? It almost did.

And it was my fault. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t know. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t do it on purpose.

The risk was real. It walked into our house and touched our things and could’ve touched our child because I opened the door like a polite idiot.

So now what? Do I just… step back? Let Gio do everything? Let him protect them from me?

I bury my face in my hands and sob harder. My whole body shakes with it.

I’m so tired of crying, but every time I try to stop, my brain just goes back.

I always thought I was at least… careful.

Responsible enough. Soft, yeah, but not stupid .

Now I’m not sure.

Is this the part where I do them a favor and leave?

Is that what good husbands do when they become the weak link?

If you weren’t here, this wouldn’t have happened. If you weren’t here, he’d be safer.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to stop it, trying to breathe it away. It doesn’t work.

I didn’t expect that from Gio. The taking-Antonio-away thing.

I really didn’t. That’s what broke me. That exact second.

His arm brushing mine as he took him.

Antonio looking back at me over his shoulder, confused.

In that one tiny, stupid moment, I felt like the worst person on the planet.

Do I really deserve this? Maybe I do.

But at the same time, there’s this stubborn part of me that wants to stand up and scream.

I made one terrible mistake.

One.

I know it’s huge, I know it’s bad, I know it put us at risk, but I don’t deserve to be erased from my own family.

I don’t deserve to be treated like a stranger you don’t trust with your kid.

I love him.

I love both of you.

Can’t you see that?

Another wave of sobs hits and I press my palms over my eyes until they hurt.

A few minutes later, I hear tiny feet on the floor.

I lift my head.

It’s Antonio, waddling toward me with damp curls stuck to his forehead, zipped up in his full-body pajamas like a little marshmallow.

I scrub my face with my hands fast, smearing whatever’s left of the tears away, and force a smile.

“Well, what are you doing out here, bean?” I ask, trying to sound playful. “Does Daddy know you escaped?”

“No,” he says very seriously. “He’s taking bath.”

“Oh, so you snuck out?” I raise a brow.

He nods, laughing.

I open my arms and he comes straight into them. I pull him onto my lap and press him against my chest, his head fitting perfectly right under my chin. I kiss the top of his head, breathing in that clean, warm smell.

“Dada, why you crying?” he mumbles into my shirt.

“I’m not crying,” I say quickly, with a little laugh.

He leans back just enough to look at my face, squinting like a tiny detective.

“You cry.”

Well. Okay. Busted.

“Alright,” I sigh. “You got me.”

“Daddy do something?” he asks, little frown appearing between his brows.

That one hurts.

“No, baby,” I say softly. “He didn’t do anything. I did.”

He blinks. “What you did?”

I exhale slowly, eyes drifting to the wall for a second while I try to find words that won’t screw him up for life.

How do I explain to a kid that I’ve been teaching him to be kind and polite and helpful, and then everything blew up in my face because I did exactly that with the wrong people?

How do I tell him, “Be good, but not too good. Be kind, but only if it’s safe. Trust people, but actually, don’t trust people ever.”

My brain knots itself.

“All people make mistakes,” I start, talking slowly so he can follow. “Some small, some big. Today, I made a… kind of big one. By accident.”

He studies my face like this is the most important conversation he’s ever had.

“What mistake you did, Dada?” he asks.

I look at him and for a second I feel completely out of my depth.

I’ve been a parent for a while now and sometimes I still feel like I’m playing pretend, like someone’s going to walk in and say, “Okay, shift is over, give him back to the real adults.”

Sometimes I feel like I need a parent more than he does.

Someone to tell me, You didn’t ruin everything. This isn’t the end of the world. A solution will show up. You don’t deserve the absolute worst version of punishment for one mistake.

But there’s nobody else here. It’s just me. And him. And my fuckup.

I clear my throat.

“I trusted some people I shouldn’t have,” I say finally. “I thought they were good. I was… nice to them. And they weren’t good. That’s the mistake.”

He tilts his head. “Like bad guys?”

“Yeah,” I say, swallowing. “Like bad guys.”

“But you not bad,” he says immediately. “You my dada.”

I almost lose it again.

I hug him tighter, pressing his little head back against my chest so he doesn’t see my face twist.

“No,” I whisper into his hair. “I’m not bad. I just… did something not smart.”

He pats my arm clumsily, like he’s copying the way we comfort him when he cries.

“It’s okay,” he says. “Next time do small mistake.”

A wet laugh escapes me.

“Yeah,” I breathe. “I’ll try really hard for a smaller one next time.”

Gio comes out of the bathroom a little later, hair damp, no shirt.

I don’t say anything.

I stand up with Antonio, set him down gently with his toy, and grab my things. My toothbrush, my face wash, my towel.

“Gonna wash up,” I mumble, and head to the bathroom.

I don’t even look to see if he reacts.

I close the door behind me and stare at myself in the mirror for a second.

My eyes are puffy, nose red, cheeks still blotchy even after crying dried.

I look like shit. Not even a dramatic kind of shit. Just tired, guilty shit.

I wash my face slowly. Cold water, hands moving in little circles, trying to wipe away the day, the noise, the look in his eyes when he saw the house.

I brush my teeth, stare at the tiles, count how many cracks there are around the edge of the sink just so I don’t think too much.

I don’t even know if it’s a good idea to go lie down next to him.

I have no idea what it feels like in his chest right now.

To have his bike gone. To know our home was ripped apart.

To walk in and see everything he worked for turned upside down because I opened a door.

But then again, why doesn’t he think about how I feel either?

He knows my brain. Better than anyone. He has to know how fucking awful I feel.

How I’m chewing myself alive from the inside. It’s not like I’m playing it cool.

I’ve cried enough today for three people.

And he’s not doing anything to help me calm down.

Maybe it’s bold of me to even expect that from him.

To think, “He should know. He should come to me. He should say something.”

Now that I say it in my head, yeah. Maybe I’m asking too much from someone who literally just got robbed.

Fine. I’ll accept that.

I’ll take my punishment, I guess, and just hope that one day, maybe, he’ll look at me again the way he did before all this.

Like I wasn’t the reason he had to move his entire life in one afternoon.

I spit, rinse, wash my mouth, pat my face dry with the towel.

My stomach is in knots. I take a breath, then another, then put my hand on the doorknob.

When I open the door, he’s right there.

Standing in front of me.

I freeze.

Instinct kicks in and I immediately shuffle sideways, making space for him to pass.

I keep my eyes down, every muscle bracing for him to brush past me like I’m invisible.

Instead, he reaches out.

His hands grab me and he pulls me in.

I slam into him with a small “oh,” as his arms wrap around me and lock there.

I stand stiff for half a second, then I melt.

He doesn’t let go.

If anything, he holds me tighter.

One of his hands stays locked around my waist, the other slides up, fingers spreading over my back.

He starts rubbing slowly, up and down, over the tense muscles there.

It’s such a small thing. But my shoulders drop without me telling them to.

My jaw unclenches. I didn’t even realize how hard I was biting down until I stop.

I let out this shaky breath against his chest, and he feels it. His hand keeps moving on my back.

“It’s okay,” he mutters, so low I almost miss it. “Calm down.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, nodding against him. My fingers curl into the back of his shirt.

He pulls his head back just enough to look at me. I know my eyes are red, nose probably pink, the full tragic mess, but he doesn’t flinch.

“Wait until we put Antonio to sleep. Then I’ll talk to you, okay?”

“Okay,” I whisper immediately, nodding. “Okay. Yeah. Okay.”

I probably sound desperate as hell but I don’t care. I’d agree to anything right now as long as it includes him and talking and not never speaking to me again.

He keeps his hand on my back a second longer, then finally lets me go.

The air feels colder the second we’re not touching, but it’s different now.

We walk back toward the bedroom together.

Not touching, but side by side this time. That alone is already an upgrade.

Antonio is sprawled on the bed with his toy. When he sees us both come in, he smiles.

Gio goes over to him, ruffles his hair, starts the little bedtime routine. Blanket, story, low voice, the whole thing.

I catch myself smiling.

Because Gio said he’ll talk to me. Because he hugged me. Because if he truly hated me, if he really wanted me gone, he wouldn’t have done any of that.

I brush my fingers over Antonio’s foot through the blanket. He wiggles his toes and giggles, then yawns so wide his eyes water.

He finally knocks out mid-sentence, halfway through a story that Gio was probably improvising on the spot.

His little hand goes limp around the toy he’s clutching.

Gio watches him for a second, then carefully slides his arm out from under him.

“Come on, bean,” he mutters softly, and gets up.

He picks Antonio up with that automatic dad-move he has now, one hand under his back, one under his legs, holding him close to his chest.

I scoot a little so he can pass, and he carries him over to the same little crib we’d dragged next to the bed at Christmas.

The one we used so we wouldn’t flatten him in our sleep.

Gio lays him down gently, fixes his pajama sleeve, tucks the blanket around him just enough so he doesn’t kick it off in two minutes.

He brushes a thumb over his forehead, and then comes back to the bed.

My heart starts beating faster as he climbs in next to me.

I don’t move at first, I’m not sure how close I’m allowed to get.

I don’t know the rules yet.

Is there a new invisible line between us now? Am I supposed to stay on “my half”?

He answers that for me.

He just reaches out, grabs me by the waist and pulls me right onto him.

I end up half on his chest, and my arm goes around his waist automatically.

My whole body reacts, feeling exactly like I’ve been out in the cold for hours and someone just opened the door to a warm house.

He slides his hand up my back, into my hair, and starts stroking slowly.

That’s the moment it really sinks in how badly I needed this.

Gio’s fingers keep moving through my hair, and after a while his breathing evens out.

For a second I think he’s fallen asleep like this.

Then I feel him inhale a little deeper.

“Rava,” he murmurs, close to my ear.

“Mm?” I hum, not lifting my head from his chest.

I can feel his heartbeat under my cheek, fast but not wild anymore.

“I’m sorry I said you’re not… smart,” he whispers.

“I… I didn’t mean that,” he goes on. “I hope you know that. You are very smart.”

I swallow, staring at his skin.

“I know,” I say softly. “I mean… it still sucked to hear. But I know.”

He exhales, thumb brushing the back of my neck.

“I was fucking terrified,” he admits, voice almost embarrassed. “Walked into that house and… I don’t know. It felt like someone took a piss on everything I ever tried to build. And my first instinct is always to bite. You know me.”

“Yeah,” I smile a little against his skin. “Unfortunately.”

“I shouldn’t have thrown it on you like that,” he says. “Doesn’t matter how scared I was. Saying shit like that to you… it’s not… it’s not fair.”

I shake my head a little. “Gio—”

“No,” he cuts me off gently. “Let me say it.”

His hand slides down to the middle of my back, splaying warm over my spine.

“You fucked up,” he says, not sugarcoating it. “You really fucking did. I’m not gonna pretend you didn’t. You let two strangers in the house and they cleaned us out. That’s insane.”

“Thanks,” I mumble into his chest, but there’s no real bite in it.

“But,” he continues, pressing his chin lightly against my hair, “you’re not stupid. You’re not a bad dad. You don’t deserve to feel like you’re the villain in this.”

My throat gets tight again. I blink at the wall.

“I was so fucking scared,” he says quietly. “First thought when I saw the door? ‘Where’s my kid. Where’s my husband.’ Not ‘Where’s my bike.’ Not ‘Where’s my shit.’ Just you and him. And when I realized they were gone but you were safe, I got pissed because it hit me how close it was. And my brain did the thing. ‘If he wasn’t so nice, this wouldn’t have happened.’”

“That’s… true, though,” I whisper.

“Yeah, but saying it feels wrong,” he mutters. “If you weren’t so nice. Since when is that a crime?! You’re the reason our son isn’t an emotionally constipated menace like me.”

I huff a tiny laugh.

“You let the wrong people in,” he says. “It’s true. But that doesn’t make you broken or less of a human. And it doesn’t cancel out every right thing you do every day.”

“I still—”

“I know you’re blaming yourself,” he interrupts again, softer. “I could see it on your face the second I opened that fucking door.”

It stings because he’s right.

“I’m not gonna leave you over this,” he says, firm. “I’m not gonna take Antonio away from you. I’m not gonna pretend you barely exist. That’s not happening. So stop writing those stupid scenarios in your head. I was cruel. I know, and I’m sorry. I was just shocked.”

I let out a shaky breath. “I know. I can’t just… turn them off. The thoughts.”

“I know.” His fingers thread slowly through my hair again. “So I’m telling you. Over and over if I have to. I’m mad at the situation. I’m mad they touched our stuff. I’m mad they were that close to you and the kid. I’m mad they dared to walk into our house. I’m not mad at you the way you think.”

I go quiet for a second.

“We’re gonna look for them,” he says then, calmer. “We’re not just gonna sit and cry about it. They exist. They have faces, tattoos, names, habits. No one’s that invisible. We’ll find them.”

“You really think so?” I ask, rubbing my cheek against his chest.

“Yeah,” he says simply. “And I’m not saying it to make you feel better. I mean it. There’s always a trail. We’ve got friends in all the wrong places. They fucked with the wrong family.”

I nod slowly. “Okay.”

We’re quiet for a bit.

“It still hurts about the house,” I admit quietly. “I know it’s just walls and furniture and… stuff. But it was ours, you know?”

He hums.

“I get it,” he says. “It was home for me too. I’m not made of stone. Walking around and seeing everything flipped like that… it pissed me off, yeah, but it also broke my heart.”

Tears prick my eyes again. “I don’t want to lose it.”

“Be happy we even have the option to lose it, Rava,” he says softly. “Most people would just stay there. Sleep in the same bed someone went through their drawers over. Pretend they’re fine. We don’t have to.”

I blink, thrown off. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, yeah, I’m angry,” he says. “Yeah, I miss my bike already. A lot. Yeah, it fucking sucks that we need to move. But we can. We have the money to go somewhere safer instead of lying awake every night wondering if those assholes are coming back. That’s a privilege, whether we like it or not.”

I hadn’t thought about it like that.

At all.

“I don’t want you to see it like, ‘We’re getting kicked out of our life,’” he continues. “We get to upgrade.’”

I snort weakly. “Upgrade from crime scene to slightly less crime scene?”

He laughs softly, his chest shaking under my cheek.

“Also,” he adds, a little lighter, “the house had humidity. The walls were acting up. Maybe we needed an excuse to get a new place.”

I actually laugh at that.

“This is the excuse?” I say. “Armed robbery?”

“Go big or go home,” he mutters. “Preferably a different home.”

I shake my head against him, still smiling, even as my eyes are wet.

“I’m gonna miss it,” I admit.

“Look, we’re gonna find those guys. One way or another. We’re gonna get what we can back, or at least make sure they don’t do it to someone else. And until then, we’re gonna move somewhere that doesn’t make you lock yourself in the bathroom shaking every time the doorbell rings. That’s the plan.”

I breathe out slowly.

“And you?” I ask. “You’re… okay with me? Not just… tolerating me until all this calms down?”

He goes quiet for a second. His hand cups the back of my neck and he pulls me just a bit closer.

“Rava,” he says, like he’s annoyed I’d even ask. “If I didn’t want you, you wouldn’t be here. I’m not that complicated. I get rid of what I don’t want. That has never been you. Even when you do dumb shit. Especially when you do dumb shit.”

I huff another laugh.

“I’m still mad at the whole thing,” he admits. “I’m not gonna lie. It’s gonna take me a second to fully chill. But I don’t regret you, or us. I don’t regret this family. Not for a minute. So stop putting yourself outside of it.”

My eyes sting again.

“Okay,” I whisper. “I’ll… try.”

He kisses the top of my head.

“And next time someone rings the bell and looks like a GTA character,” he adds, “you don’t open. I don’t care if he’s crying, holding flowers, or says he’s Santa. You call me first.”

“Deal,” I mumble. “I might just never open the door again. Ever.”

“Honestly, I’m fine with that,” he says. “You don’t need to open doors. That’s my job. You just stay cute and stressed.”

I laugh, and snuggle closer.

“Anyway,” I mumble after a bit, tracing little circles on his stomach through his shirt, “I’m… kind of glad.”

He hums. “Glad about what, exactly?”

“That it happened?” I snort. “No, obviously not. I mean…” I pause, trying to untangle it. “Glad that we’re okay. That we got out of it like this. That I can lie here and be dramatic and apologize against and again, instead of… I don’t know. Being in a hospital. Or planning funerals. Or…”

My voice cracks a little, so I shut up and breathe.

“I think I get it,” he says softly.

“I appreciate you guys more now,” I admit. “I mean, I always did. A lot. But tonight it hit different. You and Antonio… you’re my whole fucking world. And I almost handed two strangers the key to it.”

He squeezes my side gently. “You didn’t almost hand them shit on purpose.”

I look up at him, a tiny smile pulling at my lips.

“They even said you’re a legend,” I tell him. “Swear to God. The ‘your husband is a legend’ line? That one really sold it.”

He rolls his eyes, but I see the corner of his mouth twitch. “Of course they fucking did.”

“I swear they didn’t trick me because I’m stupid,” I say quickly, needing him to hear that part.

“They were insanely convincing. Like… a whole performance. Knew races, knew Escobar, talked like they were there. They were sweet, they made jokes. They were dripping honey. I honestly didn’t even get one weird vibe.”

“I can imagine,” Gio mutters. “People like that know how to play it.”

He pauses, thumb brushing lazily over my hip.

“Let them enjoy it for a bit,” he adds. “The fake freedom. It’s gonna suck when they’re breathing through bars instead.”

A sharp, mean little satisfaction runs through me and I bury my face in his chest to hide the smile.

“Anyway,” he says, shaking it off. “Forget it for tonight. What matters is we’re all okay. The rest… we’ll handle it. Try to get it out of your head as much as you can.”

He pushes my hair back from my forehead, and leans in to give me a small, quick kiss. Just a soft peck.

I immediately lean up and give him one back, a little longer. And then another one.

“Did you lock the door?” I ask.

He snorts. “I locked the front door, the hallway door, and our bedroom door. They’re not robbing us tonight.”

“For the second time,” I add.

We both laugh quietly.

“Good,” I mumble. “I wanna actually sleep without imagining random dudes in the hallway.”

“Same,” he says.

I yawn, sleep finally sneaking up now that the adrenaline’s dropped.

“Goodnight, Gio,” I whisper. “And I’m sorry. Really. I’ll be more careful.”

“I know, baby,” he says. “I’m sorry too.”

He pulls me closer, tucks me firmly against his chest, and yanks the blanket up over us so we’re both covered.

His chin rests on top of my head.

Now my body believes we’re safe.

“Goodnight,” he murmurs.

I close my eyes, and let myself fall asleep knowing that we lost a bike, we lost a house, but I didn’t lose them.

And as long as I have that, I’ll figure the rest out.

---

Guys, I went to sleep at 5 AM writing this. I’m sorry if I upset anyone 🥲

And no, Gio’s reaction wasn’t unreasonable, if that’s what you were thinking. The guy literally had his entire house and his bike stolen. He didn’t overreact 😭 And of course he loves Rava, but in moments like that, after such a shock, you’re not thinking clearly.

The next chapter is going to be perfect :) I’ll write it tomorrow though, because right now I want to draw a bit and edit the older Ride or Die chapters for the next book hehe.

BYE, I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH ❤️

24) Sherlock With Anxiety

Rava’s POV

I’m making Antonio’s breakfast while Gio wrestles Blu into his harness.

Gio doesn’t look mad anymore.

I mean, I’m not gonna push my luck and test him, but his face is soft again.

Normal-Gio.

He even kissed me this morning.

Again.

On the mouth.

Honestly I was convinced I wouldn’t get one of those for at least a week.

It was small, but it was enough to make me feel wanted again instead of like the extra chair in the room nobody uses.

I put Antonio’s bowl down and mash the banana in, staring at it a little too intensely.

I felt so insecure yesterday I don’t even know how to explain it.

At some point I really, genuinely believed that was it.

Game over.

He’s not taking me back from this one. I risked our whole family because I opened a door.

But he got it. He understood I didn’t mean to.

And I learned my lesson so hard it’s carved into my bones now.

I’m never opening the door to a stranger again. Ever.

I don’t care if he says he’s Gio’s long-lost twin, his dead cousin, his guardian angel or the fucking Pope.

Doorbell rings and I don’t recognize you? Congratulations, you’re talking to the door.

The irony is, it happened exactly where we felt safest.

We had three security locks on that door. Three.

Gio paid extra for them. He was so proud, too.

And then we got robbed because I opened the door myself and basically said, “Hi, welcome to our home, please fuck it up.”

The locks weren’t the problem. My brain was.

I stir Antonio’s food and sigh.

I’m gonna fix that. Or at least try.

For them first, and then for me.

And for our little girl, too. The one we’re waiting for.

I’m not dragging her into this world with a dad who opens the door to every honey-tongued idiot who knows how to say “your husband is a legend.”

I want to be better. I have to be better.

For Gio. For Antonio. For the baby.

And for the version of me that doesn’t want to sit in a storage closet shaking because he trusted the wrong smile.

“Okay, listen to me,” Gio says, and his tone makes me look up immediately.

“I’m listening,” I mumble, wiping a bit of banana off Antonio’s cheek.

“You lock the door,” he points at it.

I laugh. “Yes, boss.”

“I’m serious,” he insists. “IF, and I mean IF you see anything weird, you call me right away. I’m literally five minutes away, I’m not going far. And you don’t open to anyone. Got it, Rava?”

I nod. Hard. “Okay. Okay, yeah. Got it.”

He looks at me for a second, like he’s checking if it actually went in this time.

Then he steps closer and pulls me into a hug. Out of nowhere.

He pats my back and then slides his hand up into my hair, fingers combing through it gently.

He kisses the top of my head.

“I hope our daughter gets your hair,” he says.

My eyes fly open.

I pull back just enough to look at him.

He smirks. “Oh yeah. And your eyes too.”

I melt. Straight up puddle on the floor.

“Insane combo,” he adds. “She’ll have everyone at her feet. Girls and boys.”

I laugh into his chest. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Just wait and see,” he says.

He turns to Antonio.

“Hey, champ,” Gio crouches. “I’m taking Blu for a walk, okay? Eat your food. Don’t make Dada chase you around with the spoon.”

“Bye daddy,” Antonio says, waving his spoon.

Gio kisses his cheek, ruffles his hair, then nods at me once and heads to the door.

I lock the last one again, just in case.

My paranoia has skyrocketed overnight.

“Dada,” he says, completely ignoring the spoon. “Can you bring the vroom? I forget it.”

I snort.

He always eats holding that red toy car. I don’t know why.

It’s like his emotional support vehicle.

I honestly think Gio’s gonna cry the day Antonio gets his driver’s license and the examiner looks at him like, “Why do you drive like you’ve been doing this for ten years, young man?”

“I’ll go get it,” I say, getting up. “Don’t move. Or eat the table.”

I head to the living room, grab the little car from the couch, and for a second I just stare at it.

Thank God they didn’t take this thing.

Antonio would’ve sobbed his lungs out. And I would’ve sobbed with him.

Yesterday I cried for Gio. For his bike.

For that empty space in the garage.

Fuck.

I have to do something. I can’t just sit here.

I put the vroom in Antonio’s hand and watch him perk up instantly.

“Tank you,” he says.

“You’re welcome,” I mumble, still half in my head.

My brain starts doing laps.

Clothes. Faces. Hair. Scars. Jewelry. Tattoos.

I freeze.

Tattoos.

I look up at nothing, spoon still in my hand.

The guy in our living room. The taller one.

He had this shaved patch on his arm.

No hair. With fresh ink underneath.

I remember the redness. The plastic still on it.

Noah shaves the area every time he’s about to tattoo.

“Oh my God,” I whisper. “Oh my God, that’s it.”

Noah’s studio is one of the biggest around.

Half the city goes there. And this idiot has no idea we’re literally best friends with the guy who drew on his criminal ass.

I grab my phone fast.

It rings. And rings.

“Come on, pick up, pick up, pick up—”

“Yes?” his voice finally comes through.

I exhale. “YES. Noah, can you hear me?”

“Yes, Rava, I can hear you, you maniac. Is everything okay?”

“Yes. No. Kind of. Listen,” I say in one breath. “I need to ask you something. Did you, by any chance, recently do a tattoo on someone’s arm?”

Noah laughs. “Um. Yeah? That’s my job? I do that every day. Many arms. Many tattoos. Why, you want one too?”

“No, I don’t want one. Not now, at least,” I say, pacing a little in the tiny kitchen. “The guy from yesterday, he had this shaved spot on his arm. With fresh ink. Like, the bandage was still on. It had the sticker on top. It looked new.”

“What was it?” Noah asks. “The design?”

“Shit. I didn’t see it well,” I admit, rubbing my forehead. “I didn’t look at the drawing, I was too busy freaking out about the fact he was in my house. But I remember him. He was really tall, had a scar on his left eye. Back of his head shaved—”

“Hold on.” Noah cuts me off. “Big cross on the back of his head?”

My heart stops. “YES. YES. Noah, yes. That’s him. That’s him.”

“Oh my God. I’m gonna cry. I tattooed a criminal. I tattooed the guy who robbed my friends. I hate my life.”

“Noah, this is perfect,” I say, almost laughing from the adrenaline. “No, I mean it, this is actually perfect. We can find them now.”

“I don’t know about ‘perfect’, but, yeah, we have something,” he says. “I don’t know his real name, but I can check what he wrote on the form when he came. And his card name when he paid. Although, let’s be real, probably stolen.”

“Yeah, probably,” I say. “Wait, he paid with card?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, that’s even better,” I say. “We can trace transactions. Cameras. Something. I don’t care. Tell me how many clues we just unlocked, because I feel like Sherlock with anxiety right now.”

“There’s more,” Noah says. “He booked another appointment. Tomorrow. He wants me to go over an old tattoo and darken it. I’m supposed to see him again.”

I grip the counter. “Noah. Oh my God.”

“I know,” he groans. “He might pay with your card this time. Honestly iconic of him, if yes.”

“Noah, I really don’t care about the card right now,” I say quickly. “Listen. He has no idea we know each other, yeah?”

“Zero clue,” Noah says. “I didn’t exactly have ‘my best friends just got robbed yesterday’ written on my forehead.”

“Perfect,” I say. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. You’re gonna bring Lorenzo there. He’s gonna book an appointment too, same time, next to him. Pretend he wants a tattoo. Sit right by him. We’ll set them up. I’ll think of something. A trap. Something smart. We’ve got this.”

“I’m in,” Noah says without even hesitating. “You say jump, I ask how high and do a backflip.”

“Okay, acrobat. Let me feed my child and then I’m calling Gio,” I say. “We’re not letting this go.”

“Good,” Noah says. “Text me details. Dude…”

“Yeah?”

“See? You’re a genius. You are not stupid. I love you. And you’re not an idiot. Just soft,” he says. “We’ll fix it.”

I swallow, smiling a little. “Love you too. Talk soon.”

I hang up, put the phone down, and look at Antonio, who is now zooming the car into his bowl.

I scoop up another spoonful and sit back down in front of him.

“Sorry I took so long, bean,” I say, blowing on it a little. “Something very good just happened.”

He looks up at me with his mouth already open, then pauses. “What happen, Dada?”

Right. Words. Carefully.

I feed him the spoon first, buy myself three seconds while he chews.

“So,” I start, “Yesterday some… bad people came and made a big mess in our house.”

He nods, more serious now. “Make boom boom,” he says, doing little explosion hands.

“Yeah,” I huff. “Exactly. They made boom boom.”

I think for a second, searching for something that doesn’t sound like a horror movie.

“Well,” I say, “there are special rooms in the world. Big, strong rooms. With big doors. And those rooms are only for people who hurt others. You know? People who steal, or hit, or are really mean to others.”

He frowns. “Like time-out time!”

I smile a little. “Kind of. But, like, super time-out. Grown-up time-out. They can’t go play, they can’t go to the park, they can’t go for ice cream. They just stay there with other bad grown-ups.”

“In the room?” he asks.

“In the room,” I confirm. “With the other bad people. So they can’t hurt anyone else.”

He thinks about it, lips pushed together. I give him another spoonful.

“Is scary?” he asks after he swallows.

“For them?” I shrug. “Probably a little. But for us? No. For us it’s good. Because it means they’re not near our house anymore. They’re not near you, or Daddy, or Blu, or Lulu. They’re far away, in their special ‘you were bad’ room.”

He nods slowly, taking that in.

“We just found something that might help put them in that room. So they can’t break more houses. Or scare more kids. Or make more mess.”

His eyes widen. “You put them?”

I can’t help smiling. “Me, Daddy, Noah and Lorenzo are all gonna try, yeah. Daddy is very strong,” I say. “And he has a lot of friends. And Noah is very clever. And Lorenzo is very annoying. So together, they’re like… super team.”

“Superheroes?” Antonio says.

“Yeah,” I say.

He grins, then gets serious again. “They come back?” he asks quietly. “The bad guys?”

My stomach squeezes, but I keep my face calm.

“No,” I say firmly. “We’re not gonna let them come back. You’re safe, bean. I promise. Daddy will protect you, and I will too.”

He relaxes a bit at that.

“Okay,” he says. “They go room.”

“Exactly,” I nod. “They go room, we stay home. That’s the deal.”

He crashes the toy car into the side of his bowl. “Vroom go room,” he announces.

I laugh. “No, vroom stays with you. Vroom is good boy. Vroom never steals.”

“Vroom is baby,” he says, hugging it to his chest with one arm while I sneak another spoon into his mouth.

“You know what I was thinking,” I say casually, “when all this is over, and we’re calm…”

He blinks at me, already interested. “What?”

“Maybe,” I draw it out, “we can get you a new car.”

His jaw drops. “New vroom??”

“New vroom,” I nod. “Not instead of this one. This one stays forever. This is OG vroom. But maybe we can get him a friend. Like… a purple one. Or a blue one. Or one that makes real noises.”

He lights up. “Purple. And blue. And black,” he says immediately.

“Oh, okay, we’re starting a dealership,” I say. “Antonio Motors.”

He giggles.

“I give Daddy vroom,” he says seriously, holding up the toy. “He no cry.”

“That’s very sweet,” I say, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “He’ll love that. But first, you have to finish your breakfast. Superheroes don’t fight crime on an empty stomach.”

“I superhero?” he asks.

“Of course,” I say. “You’re Antonio ‘Vroom’ Rossi. The bravest bean in the world.”

He grins, opens his mouth wide for the spoon.

---

HIII SORRY FOR SMALL CHAPTER. MY SISTER IS HAVING A BIRTHDAY PARTY AND IM CURRENTLY IGNORING EVERYONE TO POST THIS.

Also Im so excited for the physical book to come out 😭 im gonna share the link THE MOMENT i see it :) HEHE

BYE GUYS I LOVE YOU SO MUCH ❤️

25) Skittles Under A Rainbow

Rava’s POV

The door unlocks and Gio walks in with Blu.

“Hi,” I say, getting up immediately.

I lean in and kiss his cheek, smiling way too much. “Gio, I’m a genius.”

He starts laughing right away. “Until half an hour ago you were calling yourself stupid. What changed?”

“No, no, listen to me,” I say, waving my hands. “I’m a genius. Sit down.”

“You’re scaring me,” he says. “Wait, let me feed Blu and I’ll come back.”

He heads into the kitchen.

I plop back down at the table and start tapping my fingers on the corner of it, trying not to vibrate out of my own skin from excitement.

Antonio copies me with his tiny hands, tapping his own little rhythm and staring at me.

Gio comes back, leans over Antonio from behind and kisses his face all over. His cheeks, his neck, his forehead, until Antonio bursts into giggles and grabs his hair to drag his head down in front of him.

“Okay, okay,” Gio laughs, letting himself be manhandled.

He scoops Antonio up and sits, putting him on his lap so they’re both right next to me.

It’s still so weird how much Antonio already looks like him.

it’s the expressions.

The confused face? Copy fucking paste.

I’m basically living with two versions of the same confused man.

That’s a blessing, honestly.

“So,” Gio says, resting his chin on Antonio’s shoulder, both of them looking at me. “What’s the news? Why are you a genius?”

“Okay, listen,” I say, super proud of myself. “I noticed something on that guy. The tall one. He had a tattoo on his arm and there was no hair on that spot. It was shaved, right?”

“Yeah,” Gio nods slowly.

“Which means,” I raise a finger, “he did that tattoo recently. So what did I do?”

Gio’s eyes narrow.

“I called Noah. I described the guy—”

“Don’t tell me,” Gio cuts in, already grinning.

I stare at him in full silence and nod once.

He starts laughing, almost hysterically.

“No shit!”

“No shit,” I echo, grinning. “Noah did the tattoo. On him. And he has a second appointment with him tomorrow.”

Gio is just staring at me now, mouth slightly open.

“That’s not all,” I say, leaning in, buzzing. “Listen to what I thought.”

“Go on, mastermind.”

“We’ll get Lorenzo to book a tattoo at the same time,” I say. “Same slot. He’ll sit right next to him. Marco will go too, hanging around as ‘moral support’.”

Antonio copies my hand gestures, absolutely lost but very involved.

“Noah is gonna act like he’s venting,” I continue. “He’ll say something like, ‘Some friends of mine got robbed the other day, poor things, thank God they didn’t touch the desk.’ Something like that. Make it sound casual, like he’s just gossiping.”

Gio squints. “Because…?”

“Because,” I say, “Mister Genius Thief hears: There’s important stuff at their desk. You know how they think. They will see it as a second chance. A free shot.”

Gio’s mouth curves. “You think he’ll actually go back?”

“I think thieves who get in that easily and leave that much behind?” I shrug. “Yeah. They’ll be tempted. Especially if they think everyone’s gone and there’s still something worth taking.”

Gio is listening so closely now that even Antonio goes quiet.

“So,” I go on, “we’ll already have called the cops. In a ‘we have solid info about the guys who robbed us and a probable second attempt, you might want to be ready’ way. We ask some of Marco’s people to do a little drive-by ‘patrol’ near the old house,” I say.

“Civilians, but keeping eyes open. If the guys show up, our people spot them, notify the cops immediately. The cops swoop in, catch them in the act or right after, and boom. We nail them. Solid.”

I sit back, feeling very pleased. “We get our stuff back, they get their big-boy time-out.”

Gio just stares at me for a beat.

Antonio pokes his cheek. “Dada is genius,” he declares randomly, and I almost choke laughing.

“See?” I say, pointing at Antonio. “The child knows.”

Gio finally laughs, shaking his head. “Okay, okay. I’m not gonna lie—that’s… actually smart as fuck.”

“I told you I’m a genius,” I say, grinning.

He looks impressed and a little amused.

“And the best part? Duke guy has no idea we’re all connected. He thinks Noah is just some random tattoo artist. He doesn’t know he literally walked into our circle.”

Gio leans back, still holding Antonio. “You really thought this through, damn.”

“Look,” I say. “If I was dumb enough to invite them in, I’m at least gonna be smart enough to help throw them out of everyone’s lives.”

Antonio crashes his car on the table and shouts, “Boom!”

“Exactly,” I say, tapping his little car. “Boom.”

Gio suddenly reaches out, takes my face in both hands and pulls me in for a kiss.

I smile against his mouth before pulling back just enough to look at him.

“So…” I say, searching his eyes. “Will you forgive me if my plan actually works?”

He huffs out a laugh through his nose. “If it doesn’t work, I’ll still forgive you,” he says. “I’ll be pissed until we figure out another way to catch them, but I’ll forgive you.”

I grin. “Okay,” I say. “Then we’re gonna pull it off.”

“Now we draw,” Antonio announces.

Gio gasps dramatically. “You’re right. It’s time, king. It’s been way too long since someone did a portrait of me.”

He looks at me when he says that and I almost blush.

Almost. He remembers the Spain one.

“What is… potait?” Antonio asks, tripping over the word, and we both burst out laughing.

“A portrait,” I say, ruffling his hair. “It means you’ll draw Dada, you, and Daddy. Can you do that?”

Antonio nods, so seriously you’d think we just hired him for an important job.

“Perfect,” I say, standing up. “Let’s go.”

Gio gets up too, swinging Antonio onto his hip, and the three of us head toward the living room.

I bring all of Antonio’s art stuff into the living room.

Well, all the stuff I managed to shove into a bag when we left the other house, and dump it on the coffee table.

Crayons, markers, some colored pencils, a slightly bent sketchbook, stickers that will definitely end up on the furniture.

The essentials.

“First we do Dada,” Antonio announces, climbing onto the couch.

I laugh, way too proud. “Wow. Honored.”

I glance at Gio.

“Alright. That’s how it is. I’ll remember this,” he’s acting offended.

He’s smiling though.

“After Dada I do Daddy,” Antonio says, very focused, grabbing a marker.

“Of course,” Gio nods. “Obviously.”

“And then Blu,” Antonio adds.

I blink. “And you’re not gonna draw yourself?”

“No,” he says casually, already drawing, tongue sticking out a bit.

“Why not?” I ask, laughing.

He shrugs. “I don’t draw babies.”

Both me and Gio just freeze.

Then we look at each other with our eyes wide and our jaws dropped before bursting out laughing.

“I’m— I’m sorry, what?” Gio chokes out. “You don’t draw WHAT?”

“Babies,” Antonio repeats calmly, like this is a known rule of the universe.

Gio leans forward, hand over his chest. “Excuse me, sir. You are not a baby. You’re a whole man. A whole guy. I demand a drawing of you, mister. It’s my right as a parent.”

Antonio sighs like we’re so exhausting.

“Okay, Daddy,” he mumbles, giving in.

“The first one is ready,” he declares after about twenty seconds, grabbing the paper and handing it to me with both hands.

“Let’s see,” I say, taking it carefully.

On the page there’s… something.

Big round head. Two dots for eyes. A massive smile. Spiky lines on top that I assume are hair.

Tiny stick body with long, long legs. One arm is suspiciously longer than the other, holding what looks like… a spoon?

Or a sword. Or a toothbrush.

Honestly, it’s open to interpretation.

“That’s you, Dada,” he says proudly. “You’re happy.”

“Wow,” I say, genuinely impressed. “I love it. You made me super tall, too. Respect.”

Gio leans in to look. “Damn, he really gave you model legs. Look at that. The power.”

“This is going in a frame,” I announce. “I’m not kidding.”

“In the new house,” Gio adds. “Front and center. Hallway gallery. First thing people see: Rava long-legs.”

Antonio giggles, kicking his real short legs.

“Okay,” I say, handing it back carefully. “Now you do Daddy.”

Gio sits up straighter, smoothing his hair.

“Make sure you capture my best angles,” he says. “I want cheekbones.”

“Chick… bones??” Antonio repeats, confused.

That look again. The ‘Gio’ look.

“Don’t worry about him,” I tell Antonio. “Just draw him like you see him.”

He nods seriously and gets to work. Gio watches him, studying his every move.

“Is there a motorcycle in the drawing?” Gio asks.

“No,” Antonio says.

“Tragic,” Gio mutters.

“And remember,” Gio adds, poking his shoulder lightly, “I want a drawing of you too. No more ‘I don’t draw babies’. I’m gonna sue.”

Antonio rolls his eyes in the most dramatic way, but he’s smiling.

“Where did he learn that?” I whisper.

Gio just points at me.

Antonio lifts his head after a moment. “Done,” he says, handing the new paper to Gio.

Gio takes it like it’s a legal document.

“Oh my God. Why do my eyes look like I’ve seen every bad thing that has ever happened in this universe AND I’m about to see more.”

“That’s Daddy,” Antonio insists.

“Baby, that is tax season,” Gio says. “This man has anxiety, and zero savings.”

I’m wheezing.

He moves on to the body.

“Man… where is my torso,” he says. “Why do I have one spaghetti line for a neck and then nothing. No chest, no shoulders. I’m basically a lollipop.”

He taps the stick legs. “And why are my legs like Wi-Fi signal. I look like I fall over when air moves.”

He stabs his finger at the hands, laughing.

“And what are these???” he asks, barely being able to talk. “Paws? Claws?? Am I about to play the piano or cast a spell?”

Antonio is fully cackling now.

“No, listen,” Gio says to me, dead serious. “If this guy knocked on our door, would you let him in? Be honest. Look at this face. This is ‘Hi, I’m here to talk to you about your car’s extended warranty’ energy.”

I’m crying.

“And don’t even get me started on the smile,” he adds. “That is not a normal human smile. That is ‘I haven’t slept in twelve years but I just found a coupon’ smile. Why do I look like I know secrets I shouldn’t know.”

“That’s happy Daddy,” Antonio says, laughing like crazy.

Gio pauses. Looks at it again.

“Damn,” he mutters.

He clears his throat, flips instantly into dramatic mode.

“Okay, official review,” he says, holding the drawing like a critic. “The proportions are insane, the anatomy is illegal, the eyes haunt my soul, but the vibe? Ten out of ten. Mentally unstable, emotionally available. You nailed me.”

He kisses Antonio’s forehead.

“I’m putting this on the fridge,” he says. “So every time I go for a snack, I remember that in your heart I look like a cracked-out Muppet.”

He hands the drawing to me. “Scan this. If I ever die, this goes on the funeral program.”

“Gio,” I groan, laughing. “Relax.”

“No, I’m serious,” he says. “People will walk in, see this, and go, ‘Yeah. That tracks.’”

I have to look away for a second because, yeah, my heart can’t handle that.

“Okay,” I clap my hands once. “Next. Self-portrait. Draw yourself.”

Antonio groans dramatically. “Fine,” he says, dragging out the word.

He is acting like we’re forcing him into unpaid labour, but deep down, I know he enjoys it.

He grabs a fresh sheet and starts again.

“Make your hair good,” Gio says. “You have better hair than us. Show off.”

He does.

Antonio slams a new page on the table like, boom, family album.

“ALL,” he says. “Everyone.”

Gio leans over, looks once… and absolutely loses his mind.

He throws his head back and starts laughing so hard no sound comes out.

“Oh my— Rava. Rava. Look at us,” he wheezes. “Look at this little LGBTQ parade. We’re literally four Skittles under a rainbow.”

I lean in and yeah, it’s… all of us?!

Four stick-people, all different colors, giant smiles, little noodle legs, a rainbow exploding over our heads.

Antonio is vibrating with pride.

“Okay, wait,” Gio says, wiping his eyes. “Point and explain. Who is who.”

Antonio points.

“This is Dada,” he says, tapping the pink one.

“This is Daddy,” he points at the big blue head.

Gio squints. “Why is my head the biggest again. Why do I look like I came here to eat the other three.”

“This is me,” Antonio points at the purple one, laughing.

“And the cursed salad at the end?” Gio asks. “Who is Shrek over there in green?”

“That’s… Blu,” Antonio says, very serious.

I choke. “You made the dog a person?”

“He walk,” Antonio shrugs. “He is people.”

Gio slams the table, crying. “I fucking love this kid.”

He leans closer to the paper, still laughing.

“Okay, let’s start from the top,” he says. “First of all, the rainbow. Iconic. Love the gay agenda. We didn’t even tell him and he said, ‘Yeah, my parents are under a rainbow 24/7.’”

He points at the pink stick.

“Dada looks… nice,” he says. “Look at the arms. Too open. Very ‘I will listen to your problems and bake cookies about it.’”

I snort. “I mean, yeah?”

“Then you’ve got purple Antonio,” Gio continues. “He looks emo.”

Antonio giggles hard.

Gio taps the blue one, him.

“And then there’s me,” he says. “Why am I this shade of blue. Why do I look like a Twitter logo.”

I’m gone.

“Also,” he continues, “these legs again?? I look like I’ll snap in half if someone sneezes too close to me. Antonio, baby, do I really look that skinny to you?”

“Yes,” Antonio says, absolutely no hesitation.

“Damn,” Gio says.

“Our kid is blind, Rava.” We laugh in silence.

He moves to the green stick.

“And here we have Blu,” he announces. “No ears, no tail, just… suspicious little man. Looks like he sells weed behind the playground.”

I gasp, laughing.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Gio says. “Look at this face! This is ‘woof woof, give me your wallet’ face.”

Antonio is squealing now.

I scoop all the papers into my hands.

“Antonio,” I say, absolutely serious, “you outdid yourself. For real. These are insane. You’re a hidden talent.”

He lights up.

Gio nods, still laughing, eyes shiny from crying.

Antonio suddenly throws his arms around me, little body pressing into my side.

I melt instantly.

“Oh, come here,” I murmur, dropping the papers on the table and wrapping him up completely.

I pull him onto my lap and kiss his cheek, his hair, his forehead.

“We’re living with an artist, Gio,” I say into Antonio’s hair. “You need to respect that.”

“I do,” Gio says. “I respect him more than I respect myself at this point.”

Gio scoots closer and just grabs both of us, one arm around me, one around Antonio, dragging us against his chest.

Antonio squishes between us, giggling.

“Okay,” Gio says quietly, kissing the top of Antonio’s head and then mine. “New house rule. We listen to the artist. Whatever he draws, we are.”

Antonio leans back, proud. “I draw more later,” he announces.

“Can’t wait, king,” Gio says.

---

HEEEEY!!! I’M NOT DEAD!!! Actually—quite the opposite. I’m more active than ever right now.

THE PAPERBACK AND THE KINDLE ARE OFFICIALLY OUT!!!! WAAAAAA

Perfect? Yes. Iconic? Also yes.

And now… it’s time to hunt for extra scenes for part two :))

The first one is a lock: the moment Emiliana was making bracelets with Gio on the beach as an extra scene 🌸🌷

Now tell me… What other extra scenes would you LOVE to read in part two? :))

They’ll be available both in the paperback and the Kindle ebook, hehehe.

THAT’S IT :))

I’m off to start prepping book two. BYEEEE ❤️❤️❤️ I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH

26) You’re Not Pregnant

Gio’s POV

We’re sitting at the station, right across from Tweedle-Dumb and Tweedle-Dumber, and plot twist: I don’t even fucking know them.

At all.

They know me, though. Of course they do. Everybody knows me.

Rava is a genius, officially.

They actually came back for round two.

Only this time, not only did they not take shit, we got to find out where all our things from the first robbery are.

Not in our hands yet, okay, but we know where they’re stashed.

All of it. His stuff. My bike. Everything.

These guys are bricks. I’m serious. They didn’t sell anything, didn’t move it, didn’t strip it, nothing.

Just kept it for themselves.

Like, what’s the plan here, my guy?

You think you’re gonna ride my BMW around town and I’ll just be like, “Oh wow, crazy coincidence, some random dude has the exact same custom engraving as mine with the letters G, R and A, what are the odds, must be the universe.”

Idiots.

I hope they have a great time in prison. Really. Spa retreat. Because apparently this isn’t even their first rodeo.

They’ve got a whole file. I saw the folder and wanted to beat them with it.

And honestly, I feel stupidly grateful that the only thing missing from us was objects .

Things. Metal, leather, plastic.

Not people.

If even one hair had moved from Rava or Antonio, I swear to God I would’ve killed them right there and I’d be the one in a cell and they’d be in a coffin.

Rava is next to me. He’s here as witness, ready to sign everything. Me too. Let’s just get this shit done.

Stamp, signature, bye-bye. Close this chapter.

Because we have somewhere to be today.

Valentina finally has an ultrasound we can actually make it to on time.

No cops, no chaos, no last-minute “sorry, there was a robbery and we’re traumatised” excuse.

We’re going. I’m not missing my daughter on that screen again.

Every time we go, it’s the most embarrassing thing ever. Rava cries quietly and then lies about it if you bring it up. “No, I didn’t, it was allergies.”

Yeah okay, king, allergies to your unborn child’s heartbeat.

We ask the dumbest questions, too.

Stuff like, “Can she hear us if we argue?” “Does she know we’re gay?” “Can she be stressed already or is that just us?” The doctor laughs every single time.

Valentina is always just as lost as we are.

Every time the doctor says something new about the babies, she just stares like, “Wow, they come with that too?!”

It’s like watching someone read a manual while the device is already running inside her.

Honestly, we couldn’t have found a better girl to carry our kid.

She’s responsible, she listens, she doesn’t disappear, she takes care of herself, she takes this seriously, but not in that dramatic, self-sacrificing way.

Thank God she’s not one of those, “Oh no, I gave birth and now I’m devastated because I feel like I’m giving my baby away.”

I swear, sometimes I feel like some of them don’t fully understand what they signed up for.

Valentina knew exactly what she was doing. She’s doing it because she wants to help us have a kid, not because she wants a free emotional meltdown at the end.

I’ve met women who get paid, sign the papers, carry the baby, give birth, and then suddenly start playing victim like, “They’re taking my child from me.”

Be fucking for real.

You weren’t upset when you saw the money, huh?

You weren’t crying when you signed the contract and picked the stroller with your paycheck in your head.

But now it’s magically your baby? I don’t get it. At all.

Valentina is the exact opposite.

Every time we see her she’s like, “The next one, you’re carrying, Gio, I’m tired,” and then laughs.

Chill as hell. Zero weird guilt, zero drama, zero “this is secretly mine.”

She knows exactly what she’s doing and why she’s doing it.

“Fontana?” the officer calls.

We both stand up at the same time. I smile.

We walk over to the desk. I lean in and kiss the top of Rava’s head as we go.

I swear, sometimes I want to punch him. His perfection is irritating.

We sign together. Done.

The officer thanks us, says the usual shit about “we’ll keep you updated,” and I glance back at the two idiots in cuffs.

I give them a little nod like, have fun, boys. That’s all they’re getting from me.

Then we’re out.

We step outside into real air, walk to the car.

Valentina is in the front passenger seat, Antonio in his car seat behind her, turned slightly so he can lean forward.

He’s mid-presentation.

As soon as the door opens I hear him: “AND THIS ONE—” in his tiny voice.

He’s holding his drawings with both hands, showing them to her.

His face is so intense, eyebrows down, mouth serious, like, listen, woman, pay attention, this is the good stuff.

Valentina is nodding like she’s at an art gallery. “Wow. Wow. Incredible,” she’s saying. “So this one is Daddy? I love the hair.”

Last night he drew a car, and he was so proud we had to take a picture and call half the family on video just to see it.

One by one, grandparents, uncles, cousins, Marco, all staring at this very square car like it’s the Mona Lisa.

Now he’s doing the same thing with Valentina, absolutely sure she understands the importance.

“Dada, look,” Antonio says before he even says hi.

“Hi to you too, baby,” I laugh, turning around in my seat. “Let me breathe one second.”

I glance at Valentina. “Did he make you cry with all that ‘look at my art’ energy or was he chill?”

“Oh, he was perfect,” she says. “This man is gonna be a big name. The way he talks about his drawings and bikes? Yeah. It’s obvious.”

Rava laughs softly next to him.

“Speaking of bikes,” Valentina says. “How did it go? You guys fix it?”

“Yeah,” I nod. “We signed everything. They’ll send our stuff back sometime this week.”

Rava puts his hands on the back of my seat and leans forward until his face is basically in mine.

“See?” he says, grinning. “I fixed it.”

I nod once, slow. “You learned your lesson though?”

He crosses his arms like a scolded teenager and drops back into his seat. “Yes. I’m never opening doors again unless it’s you or our people. With ID.”

“And?” I ask.

He groans. “And I’m never believing someone who says you borrowed books because you literally don’t read.”

“Exactly,” I say, proud.

“Daddy reads,” Antonio pipes up.

I turn to look at him. “What?”

“Stories,” he says.

I nod, smug. “That’s true. He’s right. I am excellent at reading bedtime stories. Sometimes I even change the plot myself if I don’t like it and make it ten times better.”

I shrug. “Sometimes I’m actually invested, too. Like, hell yeah, I do want to know if the little bear went to the goat’s birthday party after they fought. I need closure.”

“God,” I add. “Maybe I should rethink my career path.”

Valentina snorts so hard she goes red. “Stop,” she wheezes.

“Hey,” I say, side-eyeing her. “Don’t strain yourself—”

“For the love of God, Gio,” she cuts in. “I’m fine. The baby is not a feather or glitter that disappears if I laugh too hard. Chill. We’re good.”

“The bear fought with… the goat?” Rava asks, horrified.

“I don’t know why,” I say. “I’m guessing the bear tried to eat the goat’s grandpa or something. I’ll find out tonight.”

“You’re so gangster,” Valentina mutters, wiping tears of laughter.

Antonio lets out a little giggle.

I start the engine, check the mirror, and pull out of the parking spot.

We get to the clinic and I scoop Antonio up before we go up the stairs.

“Are you ready?” Rava asks behind me.

“No,” I say.

“I’m not asking you, I’m asking Valentina,” he says. “You’re not pregnant.”

“How do you know?” I ask, and we both laugh.

We walk in. The place smells clean. Too clean. We’re the only noise.

“Antonio,” I whisper, shifting him on my hip. “People here really like quiet, okay? So we’re gonna be quiet too. We won’t cry here. We’ll cry later when we’re alone.”

He nods. “No cry, Daddy.”

“That’s my boy,” I say.

Rava leans in and whispers, “Tell that to yourself, not Antonio.”

“At least I can cry without waking up the entire building,” I mumble back.

The nurse opens the door. “Mrs. Vitale?”

“That’s me,” Valentina says.

“And the Fontana family, of course,” the woman adds, laughing as she tickles Antonio’s hand. “Look at you, how big you are now. Feels like yesterday we were looking at you on the screen, tiny.”

Antonio stares at her, confused, chewing on my jacket.

Perfect.

We sit down on the side of the room, giving Valentina space on the bed. The doctor turns to her as she preps the machine.

“So, how are we doing?” she asks.

Valentina sighs. “Aside from the little kicks she keeps throwing at me? I’d say good. Everything’s fine.”

“No strange pains, bleeding, anything worrying?” the doctor asks.

“God, no,” Valentina says. “If I had, these two would’ve felt it before I did and dragged me here themselves. Don’t worry.”

The doctor nods. “Responsibility. I like that.”

She glances at Rava as she gets the gel and probe ready. “You’re the teacher, right?”

Rava smiles. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“My daughter goes to your school,” the doctor says. “She has a teacher named Floriano. Is he good?”

I side-eye Rava so fast, because I remember very clearly all the times he came home ranting about how unprofessional Floriano is and how he shouldn’t even be in a classroom.

“There are… better ones,” Rava says carefully. “Won’t lie. Good luck to your daughter. I’ll try to rescue her next year.”

The doctor’s face lights up.

“Oh, thank God,” she says, actually relieved, and we all burst out laughing.

“Alright, let’s see,” the doctor says, and we all shut up immediately.

We’re staring at the screen like idiots.

“There she is!” the doctor says, and we all lean in closer at the same time.

Now I see her. Rava covers his mouth with his hand, and his eyes already start shining, even though he was making fun of me five minutes ago.

My soft little idiot. I pull him closer, laughing, wrapping an arm around him and wiping the tear that just slid down his cheek. “Is that her little nose?” he asks, trying so hard not to actually sob.

“Yes,” the doctor smiles. “That is in fact her tiny nose. Here you can see the little hands, the whole side profile, the legs.”

“They’re so small,” Rava says, voice cracked, and I kiss the side of his head, stroking his hair, still holding Antonio on my other side.

I don’t want him feeling left out in moments like this.

I take his little hand and guide it, pointing toward the screen. “Right there, that’s your little sister,” I tell him. “When she gets bigger, you’re gonna take her for rides on your bike. And you’re gonna watch out so nobody bothers her, okay?”

Antonio nods, serious. I look back up at the screen. “Clearly she got your side profile,” I tease Rava, and everyone laughs.

“I don’t see anything unusual,” the doctor says. “A lot of people have issues with the limbs, but everything looks fine to me. She’s developing normally.”

“If I swear right now, will she hear me?” I ask.

Valentina goes, “Yeah, she’ll start kicking violently and storm out of the room,” and Rava laughs, still wiping his eyes.

I hope she gets his eyes. Please, let her get his eyes.

Shape, color, everything.

Actually, that’s gonna be a disaster. I won’t be able to say no to her.

Putting her in time-out is gonna be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

I won’t be able to lecture her, because the second she looks at me, I’ll just see Rava and want to hug her instead.

Good luck to me, honestly.

---

hey, sorry I kind of cut it off abruptly, I genuinely don’t have the energy to write more today, I swear. I will continue though, I promise :)) and the next chapter is very special and will remind you of something really sweet from Ride or Die ❤️

On Wednesday I’m traveling to Bulgaria RAAAAAA I love being at the airport. it’s such a vibe.

Anyway, I’LL TRY TO POST BEFORE I GO.

I’m off to work on the paperback.

BYE I LOVE YOU ❤️

daily admiration sorry:

27) RAVA

Gio’s POV

We drop Valentina off at her place and then it’s just the three of us in the car.

At some point Rava and I really need to go look at new houses, because even though the idiots are in prison now, I don’t want to go back.

I don’t want to put them back in that house after what Rava went through.

And I know myself, everywhere I look, whatever I touch, I’ll be thinking, someone disgusting had their hands on this.

No thanks.

Maybe we move near Noah and Marco. That area is stupidly chill.

Quiet, safe, boring in the best way. Plus it’s closer to Rava’s school, so he’ll get there even faster.

I glance at the mirror.

“Antonio,” I say, turning the wheel a little as we stop at a light. “What do you want to do now?”

He’s in the backseat playing with his car again, obviously.

“Swings,” he says.

“Swings?” I repeat.

He nods, still driving the toy across his knees.

Rava lights up immediately. “Gio,” he says, soft but excited. “We have to go to the swings.”

I groan. “What, you wanna make me cry in front of the baby now?”

He laughs. “I already did it. You have to do it too.”

“Those swings already hold half my tears,” I mutter. “How many more can they take?”

“They hold a lot of mine too, if that makes you feel better,” Rava says. “They’re used to it.”

I snort, and before I can overthink it I start the car and turn toward those swings.

The swings where I told him I loved him.

God. I can’t believe it’s been years since that day. It still feels like yesterday.

Me falling apart in front of him, him holding me together, picking up all my pieces.

And now we’re going back there with our son in the backseat.

Same place, same two idiots, plus one tiny human.

If those swings could talk, they’d probably roast the shit out of us.

Would probably cuss us out for how long it took us to get our shit together, honestly.

I turn and park outside the playground.

No one’s here, obviously. Who else is insane enough to come to the swings in this kind of cold? Just us.

We walk toward the gate with Antonio in the middle, his little hands in ours.

He’s the one dragging us forward, swinging our arms up and down like we’re the kids.

That’s 100% from Rava.

He does that all the time.

I swear, from the first time we held hands that night at the beach party with Jasper, and the day we met Marco, every single time, at some point, he starts doing that thing.

Back and forth, back and forth.

It’s like he can’t help it. His body just goes, we’re holding hands, I must swing them now.

And now Antonio does the same thing.

I look over at Rava. He looks stupidly proud.

We step into the playground.

Christ.

It’s actually scary how many memories I have in this one place.

How many feelings these little bridges and slides and swings are holding for us.

We go sit exactly where we sat back then. Side by side on the same wooden beam.

Except now, instead of beer bottles between us, we have Antonio’s little water bottle.

Antonio is right in front of us, playing, and making engine noises.

Rava glances behind us and squints at the wood.

“Jesus. Look,” he says.

I turn to see what he’s staring at.

Our names are still carved there.

His is still half done.

He had two chances to finish it and both times I interrupted him.

Once because I was throwing pebbles at him when we were kids.

Second time because I started crying, convinced my mom was dying.

He runs his fingers over the letters and laughs softly. “I can’t believe it’s still here,” he says. “It feels creepy.”

I stare at him, smiling.

He’s just as sweet as he was back then.

I don’t regret a single thing that happened to get us here.

“Your name is still unfinished,” I add, brushing the carved lines.

“Yeah,” he says. “I tried to finish it five years ago. But someone had a breakdown and I had to calm him down instead of fixing my broken name.”

I nudge him with my shoulder. “You’re welcome.”

I look at Antonio. “I gave you your bracelet here,” I tell him.

He immediately pulls his sleeve up and shows it to me, proud, like I might’ve forgotten.

I lean over and hug him tight because I physically can’t not.

Rava’s hand comes up to my head, fingers in my hair, slow.

“How weird is it that back then we had completely different problems,” he says quietly. “We were scared if your mom would get better. If I’d go to Canada. What my dad would say when he found out about us.”

I lift my head.

“Has he talked to you at all since the wedding?” I ask.

Rava shakes his head, eyes dropping. “No.”

It hits me with that old familiar sting. Still.

It hurts that someone like him, never got accepted by his own father.

On the other hand, I’m glad as fuck that Charles is not in our lives.

I have no idea what he’s doing and he has no idea about us. About Antonio. About the baby girl coming.

About our house, our lives, our stupid fights, our mornings.

And maybe that’s exactly how it needs to stay.

Some people don’t deserve a second chance just because they used to share your last name.

His whole face drops a little, and he looks away, sulking quietly like an offended Playmobil.

Before I can say anything, Antonio marches right between us and dumps a whole handful of pebbles on the wood between us.

Rava bursts out laughing. “Bean, what is all this?”

“Toys,” Antonio says very serious.

I nod like that makes perfect sense. “That’s… nice. What are we playing with them?”

He grabs them with his tiny hands, picks out three, hands one to me, one to Rava, and keeps one.

“Race,” he announces. “We throw far.”

I start laughing. He’s already in full competition mode. “Rava, we’re raising a legend.”

“Someone has to carry the legacy,” Rava says, grinning.

I turn to Antonio. “Whoever throws it the farthest wins?”

Antonio nods. “I go first,” he says, and takes position.

I put my hand right behind his back, wait until the exact second he throws his little stone, and launch mine at the same time, but harder.

He sees “his” pebble flying way ahead and landing far.

I didn’t do it to inflate his ego. I just know him.

If he saw his own stone drop half a meter in front of him while ours flew off, he’d cry and our whole sentimental swings moment would turn into a meltdown.

His whole face lights up, and immediately so do ours.

Rava grabs his own hair in fake shock. “Antonio? Be honest. You’ve been practicing for this. You’re experienced.”

Antonio giggles. “No.”

“What, you were just born this good?” Rava asks.

Antonio nods, laughing.

“Do it again,” Rava says. “I don’t believe you.”

Antonio throws again. This time it drops right in front of him, but I toss mine at the same time and let it land farther again.

He shrieks with happiness like he just broke a world record.

I have no idea how we’re ever going to top this when he finds out physics is real.

“Antonio, remember me when you’re a world-famous pebble-thrower,” I tell him.

Rava is dying next to us. Actually crying laughing.

Antonio looks confused.

“Dada, why you laugh?” he asks, laughing too just because we are.

“Nothing, bean,” Rava says, wiping his eyes.

I pick Antonio up and sit him on my lap. “Do you think Dada might be teasing us a little? Huh? You think he’s tricking us?!” I whisper dramatically.

Antonio gasps.

Rava throws his hands up, still laughing. “I’m not! I promise I’m not teasing!”

“He’s lying,” I tell Antonio. “What punishment should we give him?”

Aside from the one I’m giving him tonight when we’re alone. The best kind.

Antonio leans in and whispers his idea in my ear.

I gasp. “Wow. You’re harsh.”

I turn to Rava. “Rava, today you are NOT having chocolate with us—wait, Antonio, are we being too mean? It sounds a bit cruel.”

Rava covers his face with both hands and makes the saddest fake sobbing noise.

Antonio immediately wraps his arms around him, pressing his little face to Rava’s chest.

“I’m sorry, Dada,” he says.

“It’s okay, bean, I forgive you,” Rava says, kissing Antonio’s hair.

I turn back to the plank behind us.

“Antonio, you know what this says?” I ask, pointing at the half-carved Rav— that never got finished.

He squints.

“Dada. It’s his name. One letter is missing. Will you help me finish it so his name is written properly next to mine?”

“Vava?”

“Yes! Vava.”

Antonio nods immediately.

I take his little hand in mine, curl his fingers around the rock, and together we carve the last a into the wood. It scratches loud, rough, but when we pull back, the name is finally all there.

RAVA.

Antonio starts clapping all by himself.

“Finally,” Rava laughs. “I feel complete. Justice. I’ve been waiting years for that letter. Almost two decades, man.”

He looks at the wood and smiles in this soft, quiet way. “I guess it was never meant to be me that finished it. It had to be Antonio.”

“I have an idea,” he says suddenly. “Should we write your name under ours, bean?”

He looks at Antonio, and Antonio starts nodding fast.

Rava picks him up and settles him on his lap, facing the wood.

He guides his hand, and together they start carving A N T O N I O under our names.

I sit there watching them, and it hits me like a truck.

Back then, I was just a little kid who liked writing his name everywhere because I was a cocky show-off.

Ten years old, carving Gio into anything that didn’t move, because I thought the world needed to know I existed.

I had no idea that one day, under that stupid little name, my kid’s name would be carved too.

And I definitely didn’t know that the boy I was throwing pebbles at back then, the one trying to write his name next to mine while I pelted his head, would end up being my husband.

I never let him finish it.

Not the first time, not the second.

I kept interrupting him every time.

Like on some level I already knew it wasn’t my job to complete his name.

It was our son’s.

---

HII GUYSSS sorry the chapter was short, I’m on vacation and I genuinely can’t focus at all…

also WE’RE ABOUT TO HIT 5 MILLION READS ON RIDE OR DIE, WHAT??

the story hasn’t even been out for a full year yet 😭

I’m so happy, you don’t even understand. Seeing so many people love my babies is the best feeling EVER.

And this is only the beginning 😼 because I definitely don’t plan on stopping writing anytime soon, hehe.

OKAY THAT’S IT, BYE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH ❤️

28) Being In Charge

It’s a switch chapter I’m warning y’all

Gio’s POV

Today was Valentine’s Day.

We were supposed to have this whole thing planned, get dressed up, go out somewhere nice.

But Antonio’s a bit sick, nothing serious, just enough to make us both paranoid, so going out was a no from the start.

Our date gets pushed to another day.

Instead, we put him to bed, and then said screw it, let’s at least sit on the couch like adults for once.

With wine.

One thing led to another and now there isn’t a single piece of clothing on either of us under the couch blanket.

I’m not taking full responsibility for this but also… I’m not innocent.

Rava is stretched out on top of me, his head completely squashed against my chest.

I can literally feel how hot his cheek is from the wine, like he’s got a radiator glued to my ribs.

My arm is around him, and I’m massaging his scalp, playing with his hair, while my own head is spinning just a little in that nice, slow way.

Every few minutes, one of us says something that isn’t even remotely funny and we both start laughing like idiots.

We’re not drunk, but we’re definitely not fully sober either.

We’re in that perfect middle zone where everything feels lighter and everyone looks prettier, especially the person stuck to your chest, breathing against your skin.

Our dicks are rubbing up against each other.

I lift my hands up, lace them behind my head on the pillow.

Rava lifts his head a little, eyes flicking from one of my arms to the other like he’s seeing them for the first time.

Just stares. Doesn’t say shit. Doesn’t move.

I let him look. Don’t do anything. Just letting those green eyes eat me alive.

Fuck, I wish I could freeze this.

Keep those eyes glued to me forever. Only me.

Yeah, I’m greedy as hell. I want it all. Don’t care if it’s selfish. Sue me.

He shifts, plants his palms better on my chest so he’s braced right over me. Then his tongue darts out and starts messing with my lip ring, tugging it lightly, flicking it, playing.

His whole face is melted.

It’s so fucking hot watching him like this.

I drop my hands from behind my head and go straight for his ass, I grab two full handfuls of those cheeks and pull him in tighter.

Our dicks press harder, trapped between our stomachs now.

I don’t know if it’s the wine we killed earlier or what, but the want in me is dialed up to stupid levels.

Like five times worse than usual.

All day I’ve been walking around half-hard thinking about him.

From the second he woke up this morning looking like absolute sin without even trying.

No glasses, no fancy fit, no styled hair.

Just Rava in a plain white tee, hair a fucking mess from sleep, rubbing his eyes and scratching his stomach.

Basic as hell.

And yet I’ve been feral since breakfast.

Nothing objectively sexy. Just him. Just Rava being Rava.

And I’ve been losing my mind over it.

I bite the inside of my cheek, trying not to smirk, because it’s actually so dumb.

All day I was in full dad mode with medicine, cartoons, tissues, “Antonio blow your nose, not your soul,” all that, and now suddenly my head’s like, hey, remember how it feels when you’re under him instead of on top?

I can’t even lie, Rava’s dick feels unreal.

Objectively.

Like if I wasn’t married to him, I’d start a rumor about it just out of respect.

It’s not fair that someone who looks that soft, talks that sweet, is also built like that.

And there are days where I don’t care, I’m happy in my usual lane, on top, in control, doing my thing.

That’s me. That’s my default. Always has been.

I like knowing exactly where I’m putting him.

But sometimes I get this itch.

This annoying little thought: maybe tonight you shut up and let him drive.

Rava shifts a little on top of me, sighing into my chest.

“Mm,” he mumbles. “This is nice. I’m not moving ever again.”

“You say that every time and then you get up to pee,” I say.

He laughs. “Shut up. Let me have one dramatic sentence.”

I keep scratching his scalp and feel him melt even more. His leg is thrown over my hip, blanket wrapped around us.

“Happy Valentine’s, by the way,” he says after a bit. “In case I forgot to say it.”

“You did forget,” I answer. “Rude.”

He lifts his head just enough to look at me. “I literally made heart-shaped pancakes this morning.”

“That was for Antonio,” I say.

“And who ate half of them?” he asks.

I pause. “Stop.”

He smiles and drops his head again.

“You know what I like about tonight?” he says suddenly.

“If you say ‘you’ I’m kicking you off me, I swear,” I warn.

He snorts. “I was gonna say that I like that for once we didn’t try to do anything big. No reservations, no pressure. Just us.”

“That sounds like ‘you’ with extra steps,” I say.

“But it’s true,” he adds. “I feel like sometimes you think you have to perform. Like you have to make everything perfect.”

I roll my eyes at the ceiling. “Wow, attack me on Valentine’s, Ravioli, go ahead.”

“I’m not attacking,” he says softly. “I’m just saying… you can relax sometimes. You don’t always have to be in charge of everything.”

I stare at the ceiling, chewing on that.

“…You know,” I say slowly, “that’s very interesting timing.”

He hums. “Why?”

“Because I was literally just thinking about that,” I admit. “About not being in charge. Today.”

He shifts, curious now. “In what way?”

I glance down at him. “You really want me to spell it out?”

“I mean… maybe.”

I slide my hand down his back, over the curve of his waist.

“In the way where,” I say, “you stop acting like you’re all shy and soft and you actually take over.”

He blinks. “Hey. I do take over sometimes.”

“Not like I’m talking about,” I say. “I mean full thing. No holding back. You. In control. Me shutting up and listening.”

His eyes flick to my mouth, then back up. “You. Shutting up. That’s a big fucking promise.”

“Don’t push it,” I mutter, but I’m smiling.

He just looks at me for a second, like he’s trying to see if I’m joking or not.

Then he squints a little.

“Maybe that’s the wine talking,” he says softly. “Not you.”

I huff out a laugh. “No, baby. The wine is just making me less annoying about it.”

“So if you wake up tomorrow and regret it—”

“I’m not going to regret it,” I cut in.

“You don’t know that,” he insists.

“Rava,” I say, looking straight at him. “I’ve been preparing for this mentally and physically all day. It’s not the wine.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “All day?”

“Yes. All day,” I repeat.

He starts laughing, but his eyes are still soft, searching my face, looking for any sign I’m messing with him.

“Look at me,” I say.

He does.

“If I didn’t want it,” I tell him, “I wouldn’t even joke about it. You know how I am with this shit. I don’t do ‘maybe’ when it comes to control. Either I’m in charge or I’m handing you the keys on purpose.”

His throat works around a swallow.

“Okay,” he whispers. “Then… okay.”

I grin, a little crooked. “Also, and I can’t stress this enough, you’re hot. This is not purely spiritual, I need you to know that.”

He snorts, and then suddenly starts laughing.

I squint at him. “What’s so funny, you idiot?”

He tries to calm down, fails, wipes his eyes. “Nothing, just… you. This whole thing.”

“What about me?” I ask. “Use your words, teacher.”

He snorts again.

I narrow my eyes. “You little delinquent. You clearly want this so bad, so why the hell do you never just ask me?”

He goes a bit red, looks away for half a second, then leans down closer.

“I can’t just walk up to you and say ‘hey Gio, bend over, I’m in the mood,’” he whispers.

I laugh. “Why not? That’s literally what I do and you obey just fine.”

His jaw drops. “That is NOT how you ask.”

“That is EXACTLY how I ask,” I say. “Okay, maybe with a bit more romance. Sometimes I add ‘baby’ at the end. I’m a gentleman.”

He presses his lips together, trying not to smile, but it breaks through anyway.

“You know what I mean,” he mutters. “You’re always so sure of yourself. I’m not built like that.”

“You don’t have to be me,” I say. “You just have to tell me what you want.”

He rolls his eyes. “I open my mouth to say it and my brain goes, ‘nope, illegal sentence, shut it down,’” he admits. “So I just… don’t.”

“Tragic,” I say. “We’ve been missing out because your brain has stage fright.”

He laughs again.

I brush his hair back from his forehead, tucking them behind his ear.

Then I lean up and kiss him softly, tasting the last of the wine on his tongue.

“I’m gonna go get some paper and—”

“No, no,” he says, pushing me back down. “I’ll get them.”

I freeze. Look at him. “Why?”

“Because I want to. You sit here. Wait for me.”

He slides off me smooth, blanket slipping down as he stands.

Naked. Completely fucking naked.

And there it is again, that problem with Rava.

His whole body is a walking contradiction. Ass round, thighs thick.

He is so sexy you wanna pin him down and fuck him until he’s crying your name.

But also… so sexy you wanna spread your legs for him.

Right now I’m betting everything on door number two.

So here I am. Naked on the couch. Waiting.

Like some prince expecting his knight to come back with the goods.

I’m kinda proud of it.

I’ve seen the way bottoms look at him in clubs or wherever, like they’re wishing he was a top.

I’ve seen tops clock him too with hungry stares, the kind that say “fuck my pride, I’d bottom for you in a heartbeat, no questions.”

And every single time I catch one of those looks I just grin inside because motherfucker, I get both worlds.

Blessed doesn’t even scratch the surface. I’m stupid grateful.

Rava comes back, drops the lube right next to us on the couch cushion.

Then he’s climbing over me again, naked.

My hands move on autopilot straight to his hips.

He leans down slow, then starts with those soft kisses.

Rava edition.

Barely-there brushes of lips against my mouth.

So light you almost don’t feel them, but you do.

Then his tongue touches my neck.

Fuck.

His tongue has no bones, but it makes me bone-level hard.

He shifts on my lap, adjusts himself higher so his weight settles right where it counts.

Then… he fucking does it.

His hand slides down between us, wraps around both our dicks at the same time.

One grip.

Mine and his, pressed tight together.

He starts stroking, down, then up, thumb dragging over the heads.

I look down.

My eyes lock on his hand.

Our heads are bumping with every stroke, leaking together.

Holy fuck.

This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen him do.

No idea why it hits this hard, but damn.

My brain flatlines for a second. I’m just staring.

“Damn, Rava. You’re getting filthier by the day.”

He catches me looking, and he grins. “What?” he says. “You got a problem with this, Gio?”

I huff a laugh. “Not a single fucking one. Keep going. I could watch this all day.”

He smirks, tightens his grip, and keeps stroking.

Down, squeeze, up, twist at the top. Our precum mixes.

He preps me first, and then he lines up.

“What position do you want?” he asks.

I laugh. “We’re good like this. I don’t get to watch you fuck every day. Wanna take it all in.”

“Fair,” he says, smirking a little. “Doesn’t hurt my feelings to watch you suffer because of me either.”

He leans down, kisses my chest, tongue flicking over a nipple once before he straightens back up.

Grabs the lube again, slicks himself up proper.

A lot.

Hand stroking down his dick, coating every inch until it’s shiny and dripping.

And there I am with my legs spread wide like some eager slut on the couch, knees bent, waiting for Rava to slide in.

The second his tip nudges against my hole, this rush hits me.

Jesus.

Excitement straight to the gut.

I knew I wanted it, but after what he just did with his hand five minutes ago, now I want him even more.

Need it.

“If it doesn’t feel good we stop, okay?” he says, serious now. “For real. Don’t hide it.”

I laugh. “If you keep treating this like something I don’t want, I’m gonna flip you over and end up fucking you instead.”

He laughs quietly.

I look at him straight. “Kidding. Mostly. Seriously, I want it. Stop stressing.”

He nods once, plants his hands solid on my chest for leverage.

“Deep breath for me?” he whispers, lips brushing mine, eyes locked like he’s checking I’m still with him.

I’m a fucking puddle for this man, swear to god. Melted. Gone.

I suck in air slow, and nod once.

I do it because I promised I’d listen to him, always.

And then he pushes in.

We both go dead quiet on instinct.

Antonio’s asleep, and the last thing we need is daddy duties right now.

Not when Rava’s finally sliding in.

He leans down closer, one hand coming up to brush my hair back slow.

“Hope the kid stays knocked out a little longer. Because right now?”

He gives me another kiss. “I need his daddy more than he does.”

He pushes deeper.

And deeper.

Fuck.

Is this what wine does to teachers? Turns the soft-spoken ones into this?

Sign me the fuck up. I’m a fan.

Got the hottest one in the game and he’s all mine.

More.

I feel that burn that flips into something filthy good.

Now he’s all the way in, buried to the root.

He moans right into my mouth, and I kiss him hard to swallow the sound.

Tongue in, tasting him, shutting us both up.

Holy fuck, I’d forgotten how good he feels inside.

“Good?” he murmurs, mouth still on mine.

I nod fast. “Yeah. So good.”

He smiles, and starts moving.

Slow thrusts at first.

Back, forth.

Dragging out, sliding back in.

He reaches back blind, fingers finding the edge of the blanket, and tugs it up just enough to drape over his hips.

My hands never leave his ass.

I pull him deeper myself, take him all the way in one greedy push.

Unreal.

“Thank you,” he whispers, as he starts moving.

He slides out, steady pushes back in.

His hand drops between us, wraps around my dick, and starts stroking in time with his thrusts.

We’re quiet. Have to be.

The only sounds are the wet slide of lube, the soft taps when his hips meet my ass, our breathing getting rougher but swallowed fast.

Nothing like when it’s just us, no headboard banging, no filthy loud moans, no screaming each other’s names.

Antonio’s probably drooling on his dinosaur pillow, and we’re not about to scar the kid for life.

Not that he’d remember at his age, but try explaining to a three-year-old tomorrow morning why Daddy was making weird noises after bedtime.

Yeah, no. Hard pass.

He rolls his hips once with that deep grind that hits exactly right.

Fuck. Didn’t expect it to light me up that fast.

“Do that again,” I mutter.

He looks down at me. “This?”

Does it again.

Same angle, same pressure. Hits perfect.

I want to curse loud, bite down on my fist instead because I’m a parent now.

He smirks, and starts doing it over and over.

I wrap my legs around his waist quick, lock my ankles behind his back.

Pull him in closer, deeper. No escape.

I know he loves dragging this out, edging me until I’m begging, but fuck that tonight.

He’s not stopping now.

He’s gonna fuck me through it whether he likes it or not.

He doesn’t fight it. Just groans low against my neck, hips snapping harder, hand speeding up on my dick.

And I’m close. Too close. Trying to swallow every sound.

This orgasm is different.

It builds slower, deeper, spreads everywhere, not just in my dick.

Longer wave than when I’m topping, but just as brutal.

Intense as fuck.

And yeah, bad timing.

Regretting the quiet rule hard right now.

Want to groan his name, curse, make noise like we usually do.

But no.

Bite my lip instead, hold it in.

“I’m so close, Gio, I can’t—” he gasps against my ear.

I just nod hard. Same. Fuck, same.

Couple seconds later it hits, my dick pulses in his hand, and I cum hard, with ropes shooting up my abs, splattering my chest, some even hitting my chin.

Vision whites out for a beat.

His rhythm falters.

I feel it, he’s right there with me.

I grab the back of his neck quick, pull him down, slap my other hand over his mouth just in time.

He moans into my palm, muffled and desperate, while his eyes are squeezing shut.

Suddenly he slows, burying himself all the way each time.

I feel every twitch inside me as he unloads.

His whole body shakes against mine.

He exhales into my hand. I let go of his mouth. He lifts his head to look down at my chest.

“Wow,” he whispers, still panting.

Yeah. Me too.

“Enjoy your little control moment?”

He looks at me completely fucked-out. “Hello?? Read the room.”

I crack up.

Then he turns his head slowly toward me.

“So…” he says. “Impressions.”

I laugh even though I’m still trying to survive. “Impressions?? What are you, Booking.com?”

“Yes,” he says. “Rate your stay.”

I turn my head too, look at him properly.

He looks nervous under all that smugness. That’s the funniest part.

His mouth says “rate your stay,” but his eyes are like, did I do good or do I go cry in the bathroom now?

I reach over and hook my fingers in his, bringing his hand to my mouth to kiss his knuckles.

“You look very proud of yourself,” I say.

“I am,” he admits immediately.

I grin. “Good. You should be.”

He stares at me, waiting.

I exhale slowly. “Okay. Full review? That was… insane.”

He bites his lip, trying not to smile too big. “In a good way? Or ‘insane, please never do that to me again’ way?”

“In a ‘if you stop doing that to me I’m filing for divorce’ way,” I say.

He lets out this tiny relieved laugh.

“So…” he says after a moment, a little shy. “You’d… let me do it again? Another night?”

I scoff. “You think this was a one-time event? No, baby. This is now an official part of the program. Limited access, very VIP, but definitely recurring.”

---

OKAY GUYS IM IN A RUSH IM SKIPPING MY OWN BIRTHDAY PARTY FOR THIS BYEBYE I LOVE YOU DIVAS ❤️

29) Inner Picasso

Rava’s POV

I never thought I’d say this, but Gio officially has beef with a three-year-old.

And in this specific case, the three-year-old is his own son.

The reason? Lorenzo and Noah. Obviously.

The damage is double. And genuinely hilarious, because Gio is two seconds away from cutting both of them off after what they did.

“They hate us,” he tells me, while I’m trying not to choke laughing. “They clearly hate us.”

It all started so innocent.

Antonio is teething again, crying all the time, chewing literally anything that exists, and they “wanted to help him forget the pain.”

Their words, not mine.

So yesterday they come over all sweet, all smiles, with two big bags.

“Just something small for our favourite little man,” Noah says.

That was the first red flag.

The first present is a huge set of markers, every colour in the universe. Thin ones, thick ones, glitter, neon, all of it.

We shared one look that said: we’re screwed.

The second present… is from Lorenzo.

A drum set.

An actual, real, not-toy sounding drum set. Tiny, yes.

But not tiny enough.

“I swear I thought he liked us,” Gio whispered to me, watching Antonio unwrap it.

This morning, I come back from school and I see Gio on the couch with his arms crossed, and Antonio on the armchair opposite him, teary-eyed, hugging his teddy.

It went like this:

“What happened here?” I ask. “What did you two do?”

Gio doesn’t even look at me, just jerks his chin toward the hallway. “Go to Mr Antonio’s room and see.”

Antonio’s mouth wobbles and he starts crying again, tighter around the teddy.

Now I’m actually worried.

I go straight to his room, open the door fast—

Oh.

I exhale.

The entire wall, up to the exact height Antonio can reach, is covered.

Drawings. Lines. Colours. Circles. Clouds. Cars. Random chaos.

Every marker we own has had its moment on that wall.

I close my eyes for one second, then go back out.

Gio is still in the exact same position. Arms crossed. Jaw clenched.

Antonio is little puddle of guilt and tears.

I look at Gio. “Where were you when all this happened?”

“In the kitchen cooking?!” he snaps. “How was I supposed to know he’d unleash his inner Picasso on the wall because I left him alone for ten minutes?”

“Gio, he’s three,” I say. “Him being alone is your negligence.”

“Negligence? Seriously??” His eyes go wide.

I sigh. “Yes?! He’s tiny. Of course he’s going to do something if he’s too quiet.”

“So now it’s my fault he’s a street artist?”

I ignore him and crouch in front of Antonio instead.

No point arguing over his head like he’s invisible.

“Hey, bean,” I say softly. “Can you tell me what happened?”

He sniffs, wipes his nose on the teddy. “I draw…”

“On… the wall?” I ask.

He nods, eyes huge and wet.

“Why on the wall, love?” I say. “Why not on the paper? Coloring books exist for a reason.”

He looks at me like the answer is obvious. “Wall big,” he says. “Paper small.”

Okay, fair logic from his point of view. I press my lips together.

“Did Daddy tell you not to draw on the walls?” I ask.

He nods again, guilty. “He say no,” he whispers. “I forget.”

“Convenient,” Gio mumbles from the couch.

I shoot him a look. “Helpful commentary, thank you.”

I turn back to Antonio. “Listen, bean. Drawing is good. You’re very good at it. We love your drawings. But walls are not for drawing, okay? Walls are for staying clean. Paper is for drawing. You understand?”

He nods slowly. “I in trouble?” he asks.

“You’re not in big trouble,” I say. “But it was something wrong, so we have to fix it. Together.”

His chin trembles again. “Daddy mad,” he whispers.

I glance over my shoulder. Gio is still pretending to be stone, but his eyes are glassy.

“He’s not mad at you,” I say. “He’s mad at the wall.”

“I’m mad at both,” Gio says.

“Gio,” I warn.

I turn back to Antonio and smooth his hair. “Listen. You’re gonna help us clean it as much as you can, so you learn, okay?”

He nods, a bit more brave now.

“Come on, love. Show me what you drew.”

He slides off the armchair and takes my hand, pulling me to his room.

Gio follows behind us like a grumpy bodyguard.

We stop in front of the wall.

There’s a sun. A bike. Something that might be Blu. Two stickmen holding hands. A tiny scribble next to them.

“Who’s this?” I ask, pointing at the two figures.

He lights up a little. “Daddy and Dada,” he says. Then he points at the tiny scribble. “And baby.”

I feel my chest squeeze. “Oh,” I say. “So this is us.”

He nods proud.

I look at the wall.

Yeah.

That’s paint-job level damage.

No amount of “little wipe” is fixing all that.

But he’s three. A three-year-old can’t understand “property value” or “this will take three coats of white, you tiny criminal.”

All he knows is colours and space.

So I can’t scream at him. There’s no point.

I just have to somehow show him that what we do has consequences, without making him scared of making mistakes.

I hand him some wipes.

“Okay, Antonio,” I say softly. “With these, we’re going to erase the drawing from the wall, alright? But then you’re going to draw it again on paper. So we can put it on the fridge and everyone can see it. It was a nice drawing, it just went to the wrong place, okay? We’re not erasing it because it’s ugly.”

He nods and sniffs, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

I give him the cleaning wipes. “You’re gonna scrub a little, I’m gonna scrub a little, and Daddy’s gonna scrub a little. Okay? Do whatever you can.”

He nods again, tiny “okay” under his breath.

“I’ll be back in one minute,” I tell him, brushing his hair back. “Keep going.”

I step out of the room and close the door halfway. Gio’s with me in the hall, arms crossed, still upset.

I look at him. “Seriously? What did you say to him before I came?”

“I just started asking him what he did in there,” Gio says, defensive. “Okay, maybe I looked extra angry, but how am I not supposed to be? I freaked out.”

I push my hair back, trying to keep my own eye from twitching. “Okay, listen. I get it. It’s bad. I’m freaking out too right now. But think about it logically. He’s three. No matter what you tell him, he’s not going to store it as ‘life lesson.’ He’ll think ‘oh, Daddy shouts and I’m not allowed to make mistakes.’ You don’t want that, believe me.”

He exhales through his nose.

“You do not want Antonio to be scared of making mistakes,” I repeat, softer. “And you definitely don’t want the reason for that fear to be you .”

He looks away, shoulders dropping a little.

I touch his arm.

“I get you completely, Gio, seriously. My eye twitched too when I saw the wall,” I say. “But you’re not winning anything right now by snapping. He’ll take it the wrong way and it’ll just hurt him. That’s it.”

He stares at the floor, thinking. Exhales. “You’re right. Fuck. I’m sorry.”

I step closer and pull him into a hug. He squeezes me, tired and tense. I rub the back of his neck.

“Don’t be sorry,” I murmur. “We’re still learning how to do this. All of it. I just happen to work with kids and know a tiny bit more about how their brains work. Trust me on this.”

He nods against my shoulder and hugs me tighter.

“I think it would be a good idea if you go help him,” I say after a moment. “I don’t want him to have a bad image of you in his head.”

He groans quietly. “If he ever has a bad image of me, my life is over.”

I pull back and look at him. “Hey. What about us?”

His eyes go wide instantly. “Right, right, I know, I didn’t mean it like that,” he says fast. “I swear. I’m just tired. Jesus, I need sleep.”

I laugh. “Same. I need sleep too. Let’s eat and then go lie down before one of us cries in front of the wall.”

He snorts, finally cracking a real smile.

“Fine,” he says. “But first I’m going in there to show our son that his dad is not a dictator.”

“Good plan,” I say, kissing his lips. “Go help him scrub. I’ll start the food. And later I’ll text Noah that he’s on wall-cleaning duty next time he steps foot in this house.”

Gio grins a little too much at that. “Now that is the first good thing I’ve heard all day.”

Yeah. So that happened.

And as if the mural incident wasn’t enough, now we have the drums.

He hasn’t stopped hitting them.

I’m not exaggerating. I think Gio is one good cymbal away from crying.

I’m used to screaming, it’s basically the soundtrack of my job.

Kids yell before class, they yell at recess, they yell in the corridor because someone took their sticker.

For Gio? This is all new. Unfiltered, constant three-year-old chaos. With percussion.

His hands are on his face, mourning his own peace.

Antonio is giving that drum set everything he’s got.

At first they tried to play together, father–son band moment, big bonding.

Gio almost didn’t let him touch the sticks.

And now Antonio is getting revenge. I have never seen him this happy in my life.

But at what cost?

Gio’s mental health.

That’s the cost. It’s hilarious.

We’re on the couch right next to Antonio, who literally woke up from his nap, blinked twice, and walked straight to the drums like he was late for his shift. Eyes half closed. No words.

Just “bam bam bam”.

Gio is lying on top of me, head on my chest, trying to fuse into my body and hide from the sound.

I stroke his hair and, very discreetly, cover his ears a little with my palms, pretending I’m just playing with his curls.

He lets out this tiny relieved breath.

Then I feel him move.

He grabs his phone from the coffee table without even looking, unlocks it blindly, and presses call.

He puts it on speaker and rests it on my stomach.

Lorenzo.

The call connects.

“Hey, baby,” Lorenzo answers, way too happy.

“Lorenzo,” Gio says, voice calm, “Antonio wants to thank you for your gift and he said he wants you to hear his whole show. Right now. He’s been practising ALL DAY. Don’t hang up. He’ll cry.”

Lorenzo goes dead silent.

Absolute silence.

“LOLEZO!” Antonio screams, still hitting the drums.

We both jump a little at the volume.

“Hiiiii, little man,” Lorenzo says, sounding suddenly very awake. “What do you have for me?”

Antonio, motivated, slams every single piece of that drum kit with his whole soul.

It’s so loud through the phone that it almost feeds back.

“That was evil,” I tell Gio quietly.

He laughs into my shirt. “Giving drums to a three-year-old is evil. So now we’re even.”

---

Hey guys, I’m gonna be working NONSTOP all day for the next three days… wish me luck 😔 we have a big celebration here and it’s going to be absolute chaos in the kitchen where I work. I’m literally going to clock out at 8pm after being there since 8am. I’m not even exaggerating.

So I uploaded a small chapter so I wouldn’t leave you with nothing these days…

Also, for those of you who don’t have Instagram, here’s the drawing I’m preparing for the second paperback 😼 tell me what you think hehe.

I CANT WAIT TO PUT TATTOOS ON THAT THING MUAHAHA

Also we don’t talk about Gio’s right hand

30) The Tattoo

Rava’s POV

We’re at Noah’s studio.

We’re all on the same couch.

Me, Gio, Marco in the middle.

Me and Gio have him in a double side-hug, both of us playing with his hair as we stare at the closed door across from us.

Noah’s private tattoo room. Door shut.

Lorenzo has his ear literally glued to the door like a nosy aunt. “I swear they’re having sex,” he whispers.

Marco’s eye twitches. “I hope your child grows up to be a criminal and I’m the lawyer of his victim. I’ll make you and your criminal child suffer the way I’m suffering right now.”

I choke on a laugh.

Noah is currently inside that room because today’s tattoo happens to be on… some guy’s asscheek.

Full cheek.

And he couldn’t say no because he’s alone in the shop today.

So now Marco is spiraling, and honestly, completely fair.

“My man is probably palming another man’s ass right now,” he says, leaning his full weight on me. “I’m gonna cry, I’m actually gonna cry.”

He drops his head on my shoulder.

I keep stroking his hair, biting back a grin.

“Marco,” I murmur, “I’m 100% sure Noah only has your ass in his head. Besides, between us?” I lower my voice. “The guy didn’t even look like he had a nice ass.”

Gio sits up.

“What the fuck?? Why were you looking at his ass at all?”

I stare at him. “I didn’t do it on purpose, Jesus. My eyes just landed there. The same way they land on everything when I people-watch.”

Gio crosses his arms, squints. “Yeah, and apparently stayed there long enough to judge if it’s a good ass or not—”

“Gio, shut up. You literally have a tattoo right above your dick,” I snap. “Should I start getting mad that someone else touched there too??”

He points at himself. “It was a woman, doesn’t count—”

“Both of you, shut the fuck up,” Marco cuts in, totally done. “My man is in there right now spreading a stranger’s asscheek and slapping it with a needle, not yours. So you two can stop arguing about who’s more violated.”

Fair point.

Lorenzo pulls away from the door and spins around. “I heard a moan,” he hisses.

“From who,” I ask, deadpan. “Noah or the client?”

“Didn’t sound like work moan,” Lorenzo says. “Sounded like ’ this is nice ’ moan.”

Marco covers his face with both hands. “I’m gonna vomit.”

I squeeze his shoulder. “Hey. Breathe. It’s literally his job.”

“I know it’s his job!” Marco whines. “I just didn’t prepare my soul for the phrase ‘my boyfriend is elbow-deep in another man’s ass crack’ today.”

Gio snorts into my other shoulder. “Think of it this way,” he says. “If he’s willing to tattoo someone’s ass for money, imagine what he’ll do to your ass for free.”

Marco groans. “That does not help. That makes it worse. Shut up. Both of you are banned from comforting me.”

“Don’t worry, Marco,” Lorenzo says. “If Noah decides to leave you for the client, you know where to find me.”

Gio’s head snaps toward Lorenzo. His jaw drops. “Dude.”

Lorenzo lifts both hands. “What? I’m just saying I’m available.”

“I thought what we had was serious,” Gio says. “You’re moving on that fast?”

Lorenzo stares at him like a betrayed telenovela wife. “Yeah, okay, as if I’m gonna beg for you while you’re sitting here with the teacher thing.”

I am the teacher thing.

“Sorry, guys, for standing in the way of your tragic love story.”

“You’re forgiven,” Lorenzo says to me immediately. “Anyway, as I was saying, we have Marco here, who almost just got released back into the boy market—”

Marco launches up from the couch, going straight for him.

Lorenzo squeals and sprints to the other side of the room, laughing. “Don’t hit me, I’m fragile! I was supporting you emotionally!”

I’m laughing into my hand when the private room door finally creaks open.

We all freeze.

Noah steps out with his tattoo machine still in his hand, gloves on.

He looks at us and blinks. “Everything okay out here?” he asks.

Marco instantly straightens. “Yeah. Yes. How’s the tattoo?”

“It’s good,” Noah says. “We’re taking a ten-minute break now so he doesn’t die.”

“Yeah, his ass needed a break from all the in-and-out,” Marco mutters under his breath.

I choke and force it into a cough.

The client comes out right after, moving a little stiff, jogging pants low on his hips, clearly trying not to show how sore he is.

He stands next to us, stretching carefully like an old man.

“Hurts?” Noah asks him.

“Nah, it’s fine,” the guy lies, wincing. “Just didn’t know my butt had this many nerve endings.”

“Surprise,” Noah says. “You’re full of them.”

The guy goes to the bathroom.

Gio presses his lips together, trying not to laugh.

Marco just stares at Noah.

Noah notices. He tilts his head. “You good, baby?”

Marco nods, eyes still glued to Noah. “I’m fine. How much longer do you need?”

Noah laughs and pulls him into a hug. He pets Marco’s hair like he’s calming down a terrified golden retriever. “Why, you in a hurry? You want a tattoo too?”

Marco doesn’t even answer, just nods into Noah’s chest.

Noah kisses the top of his head. “You can’t. Sorry. You drank yesterday.”

“Excuses,” Marco mumbles into his shirt.

Gio leans forward. “No, seriously, listen to him.” He looks at all of us. “Do you remember that party years ago? When they gave me this tattoo—” he points at his ankle “—the fucking ravioli?”

I already start laughing.

“The next day it was leaking ink everywhere and I couldn’t figure out why,” Gio says. “Maybe because I drank my entire bloodstream in alcohol.”

Noah cackles. “I must’ve been drunk as hell too not to stop that. Or I wasn’t there. I don’t remember. That whole day is just blur. Loud blur.”

“That day was insane ,” Lorenzo sighs, nostalgically feral. “We should recreate it. Same place, same chaos. But this time with Marco.”

Noah immediately tightens his arms around Marco like someone tried to snatch him.

“NO. Absolutely not. I’m not handing him over to you animals. Especially you, Lorenzo. You’ll both die and I’ll lose the love of my life and you.”

I swallow dramatically.

“Wow. Hi to you too, best friend. Don’t drown me in affection like that, I might choke.”

Noah snorts and peels himself off Marco just enough to move.

He drops down next to me on the couch and bumps his shoulder into mine.

“Sorry,” he says. “You’re right.” He flips his head toward the others. “We’ll go out tomorrow. Just us. No clowns.”

Gio gasps. “Excuse me—”

“Without them,” Noah repeats, eyes on me now. “You and me. Like in Canada.”

He throws his arms around me in the most dramatic side-hug, half tackling me, chin on my shoulder. I crack up but hug him back anyway, slipping an arm around him.

I forget sometimes how important this idiot is to me.

Then he does stuff like that and my brain is like, oh right, this one’s family too.

The guy comes back from the bathroom and Marco just stares at him.

Noah clocks it immediately. Poor thing.

Honestly, if Gio had to tattoo some dude’s asscheek and hold it stretched for an hour, I’d cry too.

Yeah. No question.

Noah looks from the client to Marco and starts laughing under his breath.

He walks over, hooks a hand around Marco’s neck, pulls him in and kisses him quick.

Then he leans in and whispers something in his ear that none of us catch.

Whatever it is, it works instantly.

Marco comes back to the couch all soft and smiley.

Lorenzo stares at him, offended. “You whore…”

Before anyone can answer, the door swings open and Daisy walks in with Antonio on her hip.

“Hiiiiiiii!” Antonio yells like a siren.

Marco gasps. “THE CHILD.” He jumps up. “Come here, love of my life. Oh my God, I missed this juicy little face so, SO much.”

He takes Antonio and drags him to the couch, and he and Gio instantly start playing with him, forgetting about the ass crisis.

---

HIIII sorry again for small chapter it’s only 1400 words oop. I’m writing Guilty Pleasure all day muahahhhahahahahah.

I also changed some character aesthetics because I’m more familiar with the characters now and I can see them better. (not the ride or die ones, the guilty pleasure ones)

ALSO CHAT i’m tattooing a guy tomorrow I’m so nervous.

I hope he doesn’t want his ass tattooed.

ANYWAY THATS ALL I WILL UPDATE YOU.

BYE BYE GUYS I LOVE YOU🩷❤️

31) Just The Three of Us

Hey guys :) sorry if this is a little chaotic. I’ve been writing Guilty Pleasure for so long that I kind of forgot how to do the softer writing 🥲 I even typed Silas accidentally… Anyway, bye.

Rava’s POV - August 9th

We’re at my mom’s place getting the table ready and I’ve already cried twice and we’ve been here for like an hour.

It’s ridiculous. A few years ago, in this exact house, I remember screaming at Charles because he called the cops on Gio.

I remember Daisy chasing us with a sandal because her hair turned blue.

I remember hiding Gio in my closet because my mom was coming upstairs.

I remember the time I was ready to leave Italy after accidentally sending him a half-naked photo of my body.

I remember throwing a party the night before my wedding and somehow ending up crying again because of something Charles said.

And now we’re all here, in the same house.

Only now it’s me, Gio, and our bean.

Daisy with Lorenzo, waiting for their own first bean.

Jin with his new girlfriend who’s trying her best not to look terrified by all of us.

Noah with his tree guy who physically can’t detach from him for more than three seconds.

And Valentina, who just casually happens to be carrying our daughter.

The parents are all here too. All of them.

Gio’s mom. Lorenzo’s parents. Marco’s parents. My mom.

We are literally a herd of starving people and the moms made it their mission to feed us.

I’m pretty sure Lorenzo is already drunk with Marco.

They’ve been “tasting” wines for like half an hour and now they’re laughing like idiots because Antonio is just staring at them.

That’s it. That’s the joke.

Our child is looking at them and they’re acting like it’s the funniest shit they’ve ever seen in their lives.

Lorenzo slides off his chair and hits the grass and then his dad starts laughing too.

Which, by the way, is unsettling because they look the same.

It’s like watching Big Lorenzo and Mini Lorenzo glitch in real life.

Gio, on the other hand, is basically in a full-blown debate with Marco and Valentina’s dad over whether Ducati is better than BMW.

Their dad is obsessed with bikes too, obviously, that’s why Marco rides like that.

I can’t hear exactly what they’re saying, but judging from Gio’s hand gestures, it’s serious.

He looks pissed in that passionate-Italian way, and every two minutes he wipes sweat from his forehead.

Antonio is sitting next to me on the grass, picking at it.

I nudge him gently.

“Bean, I think Daddy needs a hug. You wanna go give him one?”

He suddenly giggles, stands up, and starts walking towards Gio in that slow, determined toddler way.

Gio doesn’t notice at first, still arguing, but then he glances down and sees him.

His whole face changes.

All that fake rage melts off like it was never there. He opens his arms automatically.

He scoops Antonio up, kisses his cheek, then sets him down carefully on top of the BMW.

He holds him steady, one arm around his waist, and immediately turns to look at me, grinning.

He hits me with the happiest “ look what our son is doing“ face I’ve ever seen.

I laugh and pretend to be shocked, hand over my mouth like ‘oh no, not our innocent child on a motorcycle.’

Gio reaches for the throttle, wraps Antonio’s little fingers around it, and twists it.

The engine roars and the sound makes everyone’s head snap in our direction.

Antonio starts scream-laughing. Gio does it again.

Antonio dies laughing again, louder this time, kicking his little feet.

Marco and Valentina’s dad grabs Gio’s phone, lining up the shot.

He takes a bunch of pictures of Gio and Antonio on the bike.

After a few, Gio turns again and motions at me with his eyebrows up, like ’ come on, get your ass over here.’

I get up instantly and go squeeze myself in next to him.

My shoulder is pressed to his, and I lift Antonio’s hands a little higher.

My smile is huge.

When we go to check the photos, I notice Jin in the background of every single one, standing there eating chips like an extra who refused to leave the set.

Perfect.

Marco and Valentina’s dad disappears inside the house to grab a beer, and the second the door shuts behind him, Gio’s arm snakes around my neck and drags me closer.

He starts kissing me everywhere. My cheek, my jaw, my mouth, wherever he can reach, and I start laughing because he always does this at the most random, unexpected times.

“I love you,” he murmurs against my skin.

My stomach flips immediately. It always does. Every single time.

“And I love you,” Antonio says suddenly, looking down at his tiny hands.

Gio and I both burst out laughing.

I wrap my arms fully around Gio’s neck, pulling him closer, running my fingers through his hair the way I know he likes.

“And I love you too,” I whisper into his ear.

“I’m hungry,” Antonio announces.

“WAS THAT THE BABY???” Gio’s mom suddenly shouts, from the kitchen window.

Oh god.

She comes outside immediately and starts playfully shoving and slapping Gio like she just caught him committing a crime.

Gio is trying to hide while laughing. “Rava, help—”

“Aren’t you ashamed leaving the baby hungry like this??”

I start laughing too.

“Mom, when I was a baby I was hungry all the time—”

She shoots him a look that clearly says stop talking right now before I end you.

I’m losing it.

“Rava, should I feed him?” she asks me.

“Of course, yeah. It’s his time anyway.”

Gio looks at her, offended.

“Uh… I’m also a parent, why don’t you ask me too—”

“You be quiet.”

I choke on my laugh.

“Come help me feed the baby. Now.”

“Yes, mom.”

Gio sighs dramatically, climbs off the motorcycle, and heads inside.

Before he disappears through the door he turns back, blows me a kiss with his hand, and grins.

I do the same, smiling like an idiot.

Then I head back to the table.

Back to the chaos.

Jin literally slams into me. “DUDE. Hear me out. Leave your spawn with Gio’s mom and let’s go swimming. All together.”

I throw him the slowest side-eye I’ve ever side-eyed in my life.

“Bro… look at them.” I point at Lorenzo, Marco, and Noah who all have couch cushions shoved under their shirts like pregnant bellies.

They’re doing it for “solidarity” with Daisy and Valentina, apparently.

Marco and Noah are rubbing Lorenzo’s stomach like he’s carrying the second coming of Christ, and Lorenzo keeps nodding dramatically, giving off the energy of a mother who has survived fourteen deliveries and three world wars.

Jin stares at them.

“Shame,” he mutters. “SHAME that they’re doing this without me. I’m gonna go cry into Luciana’s breasts.”

I elbow him.

“Oh please. Like you don’t already do that on Gio’s.”

“I don’t cry anymore.”

“But you cried today.”

“Hush, child. I’m the older one. Respect me.”

He gives me his middle finger and then he leaves.

We finally get everybody to sit down at the table, which honestly feels like a miracle on its own.

The heat is disgusting.

I swear even breathing feels aggressive.

Gio’s mom looks at Lorenzo. “Have you thought of a name for the baby yet?”

Lorenzo has his mouth full. “I said Riccardo. She rejected it.”

Daisy looks offended. “Yeah, sorry for not wanting to name our child after your rat.”

Lorenzo points at her with his fork like she’s the problem. “He was iconic.”

“He was a hamster,” she shoots back. “When I hear Riccardo, I think of rodent food and wood shavings. Not a baby.”

“Crazy take,” Lorenzo says.

Then Gio’s mom looks at me. “And you two?”

I glance at Gio.

“I’m voting Emiliana,” Noah says before either of us can answer.

“Fuck yeah,” Lorenzo says. “That girl did God’s work. She deserves to have her name permanently attached to this family.”

“Fuck,” Antonio mutters.

Every muscle in my body locks.

We all turn.

No. Absolutely not.

The worst thing you can do with a child is react when they say something you do not want repeated.

Everybody gasps.

Of course they do.

Antonio’s eyes light up.

“Ignore him,” I whisper immediately. “Trust me. Everybody ignore the child.”

Nobody listens to me.

Because why would they ever listen to me when they could all make my life harder for fun.

Jin is already laughing.

Lorenzo is choking on his food.

Gio’s mom has both hands over her mouth.

All of them staring.

All of them giving him exactly what he wants.

“No, seriously,” I say, sharper now. “Stop reacting. Do not encourage him.”

Antonio sits up straighter in his chair, like he’s on stage.

“Fuck,” he says again.

I close my eyes for one second because maybe when I open them this will be a hallucination.

“Do not laugh,” I warn them.

That makes Jin laugh harder.

I catch Gio laughing for half a second and shove him with my elbow.

He straightens up instantly. “Rava’s right. Sorry. Antonio, you’re grounded for the rest of the week.”

Marco immediately starts screaming with laughter. Valentina loses it too.

“What are you laughing at?” Gio says.

Lorenzo looks at him in disgust. “Gio acting like a serious dad is the fakest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Adorable,” he adds. “Horrifying. I got chills.”

“Guys,” Valentina says through laughter, barely getting the word out.

But Noah cuts in first. “Gio is exactly the kind of dad who, in the future, if Antonio calls him and goes, Dad, I got arrested, he’ll be like, okay, but can you still make it to dinner?”

Lorenzo slams his hand on the table, laughing so hard he nearly folds in half.

“GUYS,” Valentina yells.

We all turn to look at her.

“I think my water just broke.”

My heart immediately starts beating like it’s trying to escape my body.

“OKAY NOBODY PANIC—” Gio shouts.

And that is the exact moment the absolute apocalypse begins.

I freeze for half a second because my brain has completely shut down.

I don’t know what to do.

I don’t know what the protocol is when someone’s water breaks in the middle of dinner.

“THE CAR KEYS,” Gio shouts at me while grabbing every single one of Valentina’s emergency bags he insists on carrying everywhere “just in case.”

Of course he was right.

Of course the one time we needed them is right now.

I fumble around the table like an idiot trying to find the keys while Gio is stacking bags.

Behind us Lorenzo finishes his drink in one aggressive gulp and slams the glass on the table.

“MADONNA MIA,” he shouts. “THE CHILD IS HERE.”

The baby is not here.

The baby is coming.

But Lorenzo is already emotionally in the delivery room.

“VALENTINA AMORE,” he yells.

“I’M FINE,” she says, which sounds extremely not fine.

Marco grabs one of her arms.

I grab the other.

“Okay okay okay,” I say, which is not helpful because I’m absolutely panicking.

“We’re going to the car.”

We start walking her toward the door while the rest of the house collapses behind us.

Gio is running around collecting bags while Jin is grabbing random water bottles.

Noah has taken his phone out.

He flips the camera on, and fixes his hair.

I stare at him in horror.

“Guys,” he says to the camera like he’s reporting live from a historical event.

“GUYS—”

“NOAH,” I say.

“Here you are witnessing the arrival of the second Fontana child—”

“SHUT UP,” three people scream at the same time.

“—WE ARE GIVING BIRTH—”

“NOAH SHUT UP I’M THE ONE GIVING BIRTH NOT YOU,” Valentina yells, trying to breathe through another contraction.

Noah looks genuinely offended. “I’m documenting history.”

Gio runs past us carrying three bags and a blanket. “Rava do you have the keys?!” he shouts.

I nod.

We spill out into the driveway. Everyone’s talking at the same time.

I’m about to get into the car when suddenly, Gio grabs my waist.

His other hand is scooping Antonio up.

“Gio, what are you doing—”

He doesn’t answer.

He pulls us both toward the back of the car and sits Antonio on the trunk.

Antonio immediately starts kicking his little feet against the metal.

“Stay,” Gio tells him.

Then he steps back, pulls out his phone, flips the camera around, and suddenly we’re all squeezed together.

Me. Antonio. Gio.

Click.

The flash hits my eyes.

And the second it does, it clicks in my head too.

What he just did.

Of course he thought of it.

‘Before everything changes.’

Before the house fills with another tiny screaming human.

Before we’re not just us anymore.

My eyes start burning immediately. I hate that he knows me well enough to notice.

Gio looks at the picture and breaks into the biggest, happiest grin I’ve ever seen on his face.

He pulls us both in before I can even wipe my eyes.

Antonio gets squished between us. Gio wraps one arm around my shoulders, the other around Antonio’s tiny back, pulling us tight against his chest.

Then he kisses the top of my head.

His hand moves up into my hair, gently brushing it back. “You okay?” he murmurs quietly.

I laugh a little even though my throat feels tight. “Yeah.”

Gio squeezes us tighter.

And suddenly it hits me.

This right here. This is it.

The last few breaths of the life we’ve had until now.

Just the three of us.

Our weird little chaotic family.

Tonight that family gets bigger.

And it’s beautiful, it’s everything we wanted.

But this version of us, just the three of us, is about to quietly disappear.

Antonio leans his head against Gio’s chest. I lean into his shoulder.

“Alright,” Gio finally says softly.

He kisses my head again. Then Antonio’s.

“Let’s go meet the next bean.”

---

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the last chapter of Raise or Die – Paperback 1 😼

Now we’re starting Paperback 2, which as you can probably guess… is about to be full chaos.

THE STORY IS NOT FINISHED !!!

I’m just taking a break because I’ve been dealing with a health problem lately, but I promise I will come back soon ❤️❤️

BYEBYE GUYS I LOVE YOU❤️🩷

32) A Potato With Feelings

Gio’s POV

We’re on the road to the hospital.

Rava is driving because I’m in full overdrive, and if I get behind the wheel right now, one of two things will happen.

Either our child will be born on the asphalt.

Or our child won’t get the chance to be born at all.

So he drives.

Probably a little too fast, but I feel like the universe should mind its fucking business for the next ten minutes.

I’m in the passenger seat beside him. Valentina is in the back seat.

Noah is beside her. Which is also a mistake.

A massive mistake.

Because of course the first thing he does is lift his phone.

“GUYS,” Noah announces to the camera. “FONTANA GIRL IS COMING. SHE’S BEING BORN—”

“SHUT UP,” Valentina screams from the back seat.

Noah lowers the phone half an inch.

“Okay, okay. Calm down. Everybody stay calm.”

Nobody is calm. There isn’t one calm person in this car.

I twist around in my seat fast. “Valentina, do you want water?”

“I WANT TO GIVE BIRTH.”

“Yes, but water?”

“SHUT UP, I’M IN PAIN.”

“Right. Right. Sorry. Sorry. No water.”

Two seconds pass.

“Maybe a little water?”

“GIO,” Rava snaps.

I throw both hands up. “I’m trying to help!”

I look at the road. Then at Rava. “Rava, how fast are we going?”

“Fast enough, Gio.”

“Can you go faster?”

“I’m already going faster than I should.”

“Come on, just a little more.”

“GIO, WE’RE GOING TO CRASH.”

“But we need to get there.”

“We will not get there if we die.”

“Okay.”

I immediately lean forward again.

“But maybe just a little faster—”

Before he can answer, Noah lifts the phone again.

“Guys, if you’re watching this in the future, just know everyone wants to hit me right now because I’m filming, but one day they’ll thank me for this video.”

“No, we won’t,” I say.

“Yes, you will.”

“Noah.”

“I am literally preserving history.”

“You are literally speedrunning your funeral.”

He turns the phone toward me.

“And here we have your dads fighting like the married couple they are.”

I snap my head toward him. “We are NOT fighting.”

“You told him to drive faster and he threatened to kill all of us.”

“I did not threaten,” Rava says. “I informed.”

“Married couple behavior,” Noah whispers into the phone.

Then he turns the camera toward the back seat.

“And here we have our beloved Valentina, ready to give birth to one of you because she loves your dads very much and is doing them a favor since Rava couldn’t get preg—”

“Someone take his phone,” Rava says, gripping the wheel while trying to keep his eyes on the road and not turn around to commit murder.

Noah keeps filming.

“—nant, which is very unfair biologically, but very generous emotionally—”

“NOAH,” Valentina yells.

I twist around again. “Valentina, what are you feeling right now?”

“Rage.”

“No, I mean physically.”

“RAGE PHYSICALLY.”

“Okay. Okay. Good.”

“How is that good?!”

“I don’t know! I’m trying to stay positive.”

Then a car pulls up beside us.

Lorenzo’s car.

The window rolls down and Lorenzo is halfway out of it.

“NOAH,” he yells over the noise of the road. “FILM ME. TELL THEM UNCLE LOLEZO IS HERE.”

Daisy’s voice immediately screams from inside the car. “GET BACK INSIDE BEFORE YOU DIE.”

“I AM SUPPORTING THE FAMILY.”

“You’re going to become part of the road!”

Noah gasps and swings the camera toward the window.

“And here is Uncle Lolezo, currently risking his life for attention.”

“FOR FAMILY,” Lorenzo shouts.

“For attention,” I correct without looking away from the road.

I lean toward my window. “Lorenzo, get inside the car.”

“YOU get inside the car.”

“I AM INSIDE THE CAR.”

Valentina groans.

And the whole car shuts up for exactly half a second.

I turn again. “What? What is it? What do you feel? Is it the baby? Is the baby coming? Rava, can babies come in cars?”

“Yes,” Noah says before I can answer. “That’s how cars are made.”

“What?”

“Stop speaking.”

Valentina exhales hard through her teeth. “It’s another contraction.”

“Okay,” I say, instantly panicking again. “Okay okay okay. Do we time them? Noah, time them.”

“I’m busy making cinema.”

“Time the contraction.”

“I have one phone.”

“Use your brain.”

“That’s not reliable and you fucking know it.”

Valentina grabs his arm. “Shut up and let me squeeze you.”

Noah looks down at her hand crushing his wrist.

“Understood.”

I turn around again, breathing hard, and I press my hands together in front of my mouth.

Noah notices instantly.

“Oh, this is good,” he whispers and brings the phone toward me. “Here, your daddy Gio is praying to whatever god is listening that the baby comes out with your dad Rava’s eyes.”

“Noah,” Valentina snaps suddenly.

He immediately points the phone at himself. “The pregnant woman needs me. What is it, woman?”

“My bag,” she says through the pain. “Grab my bag.”

I hear him start searching behind me.

Zippers open. Something hits the floor.

“Why do you have so many things in here?”

“Because I’m prepared.”

“Damn, woman. You packed like you’re going on tour.”

I immediately twist again. “What does she need? Is it the papers? Her socks? Did we bring socks? People online said socks are important. Why are socks important? Is the baby cold already?”

“Gio,” Rava says.

“What?”

“Breathe.”

“I am breathing.”

“Take out my lip gloss,” Valentina says immediately. “Now.”

Noah starts laughing. Wheezing.

I turn around, staring at her. “You’re giving birth and you care if your lips are glossy?”

Valentina glares at me. “There might be a hot single dad there.”

“At the place where… babies are born?”

“SHUT UP, YOU NEVER KNOW.”

Noah almost folds in half. “Icon behavior,” he says, digging in the bag.

“Do not mess it up,” Valentina warns.

“You want me to apply it?!?!”

“My hands are busy trying not to kill everyone.”

“I have no idea how to do this shit.”

This family is a public safety issue.

Noah uncaps it. “Okay. Um, pout?”

“Wait. I’m having a contraction, you idiot.”

We arrive.

Rava barely stops the car and I’m already out, slamming the door.

I grab one bag. Then another. Drop one. Pick it up again.

Why do we have this many bags? Why is she packing like we’re relocating countries?

Valentina’s out of the car with Daisy and Marco holding her, and we’re all moving toward the entrance.

Marco is crying. Fully crying.

“Bro,” I tell him, breathless, “why are you crying.”

“I DON’T KNOW,” he sobs. “IT’S BEAUTIFUL.”

“It’s not even out yet,” I say.

“That’s WHY.”

I don’t have the energy to unpack that.

Rava lifts Antonio out of the car seat and shifts him onto his hip, calm on the outside, chaos under the skin. I can see it.

He looks at Noah. “For fuck’s sake, give this man a child. He’s crying just looking at Antonio.”

Noah wipes under his eyes like he’s offended. “I will start crying too. I haven’t even proposed yet. Will you help me, Gio?” he asks me like this is the moment.

“We’re in this together from day one, right?”

“Right,” I say. “But let our child be born first and then we’ll fix your life. I’m literally losing my mind.”

“Same,” Noah mutters.

We push through the hospital doors and it hits us all at once.

Bright lights, and that sterile smell.

Suddenly all the chaos from outside gets trapped in a hallway.

We’re just standing there like a bunch of idiots.

Too many people.

Valentina leans forward, gripping Daisy’s arm.

“Hi,” a nurse says, already moving toward us. “Who’s in labor?”

“HER,” all of us say at once.

“Name?”

“Valentina Vitale,” Daisy answers.

“How far along?”

“Full term,” Lorenzo says from behind me, voice shaking like he’s about to collapse. “She is—she is doing it now, like now now.”

“Sir, breathe,” the nurse tells him.

“I AM BREATHING.”

He is not breathing.

Another nurse comes in with a wheelchair.

“Let’s get her seated.”

Valentina shakes her head. “No, I can walk—”

“You can sit,” Daisy says, already guiding her down.

“Any complications?”

“No.”

“Water broke when?”

“TODAY. There was pasta—” Lorenzo is spiraling again.

“Okay,” the nurse says, cutting him off gently. “We’ve got it.”

Another contraction hits and Valentina grips the sides of the chair.

“Okay,” she breathes. “Okay—let’s go—”

They start moving.

And we follow. All of us.

“No, no,” one of the doctors says, stopping and looking at us. “Only one person can come in.”

Silence.

Everyone looks at everyone.

I just look at Rava. Because I already know.

“Rava,” I say.

He looks at me, confused for a second.

“No,” he says immediately. “Gio—”

“You’re going,” I cut him off.

“No, you—”

“I’m not going in there.”

“You’re the—”

“I know what I am,” I snap, then lower my voice because this isn’t about me spiraling. “I know. But I will make it worse,” I say, quieter now. “I’ll stress her out. I know I will. I can feel it already.”

Rava shakes his head. “You won’t—”

“I will,” I say. “I’m already freaking out. I’ll walk in there and start asking questions nobody needs and she’ll want to kill me.”

He knows I’m right. He hates that I’m right. I hate that I’m right.

“I want to be there,” I add. “More than anything. You know that.”

I glance at Valentina.

“She needs calm,” I say. “That’s you.”

Rava stares at me.

I step closer, grabbing his arm. “Go,” I tell him. “Be with her.”

His jaw tightens.

He nods once.

Then he hands Antonio to Noah without even looking.

“Hold him.”

I grab Rava before he can disappear through that door and I pull him into me.

Rava hugs me back tighter.

“I love you,” I whisper against his hair.

He pulls back just enough to look at me.

His eyes are shining. His lips are trembling.

“I love you more,” he says.

I shake my head because absolutely the fuck not.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Rava—”

“Bye,” he says, like the little shit he is, then kisses me fast before I can argue, turns around, and walks into the room.

He actually waves at all of us.

Happy.

Then the door closes, and I stand there completely useless.

My hands go straight into my hair.

I turn around because if I keep looking at that door, I’m going to start barking at it.

Antonio is standing there confused, holding his little toy car in one hand, looking up at me.

I crouch down and scoop him into my arms. He comes easily, and fuck me sideways, he’s getting heavier.

I sit down right there on the floor because my legs are done pretending they work.

“Where did Dada go?” he asks, pressing his little hand against my cheek.

I smile even though I’m crying like an idiot.

“Dada went to bring you company.”

“Company?”

“Yeah, baby.” I wipe my face with the back of my hand, then fix his little sleeve because apparently I’m a father now and that means I fix sleeves during emotional emergencies.

“Remember how you said you wanted someone to play with you when me and Dada are working?”

He nods slowly.

“And remember how you said the stuffed dinosaur was a terrible listener?”

“He doesn’t answer.”

“Exactly. Rude little bastard.”

Antonio giggles.

I kiss the top of his head and hold him closer.

“Well,” I say, softer now, “you’re going to have a baby sister.”

He stares at me.

“A real one?”

“Yeah, Tony. A real one. Very small and loud. Probably very dramatic, because she’s related to us, so honestly, she never stood a chance.”

He looks toward the door.

“She can play cars?”

“Not yet. At first she’s going to be kind of useless.”

His eyes widen.

I point at him. “Don’t tell her I said that.”

“She’s useless?”

“Temporarily useless,” I correct, very seriously. “Like a potato with feelings.”

Antonio thinks about that. “She will cry?”

“Oh, she’s gonna cry a lot.”

“Why?”

“Because babies are tiny old men trapped in soft bodies and everything offends them.”

He giggles again.

“But listen to me,” I say, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “When she comes home, everyone is going to look at her a lot, okay? Because she’ll be new. And tiny. And people get weird around tiny new humans.”

He nods, serious now.

“But that doesn’t mean we stop looking at you.” I clear my throat a little. “You hear me? You’re still my boy. You’re still Dada’s boy. You were our first little monster. Nobody gets your spot.”

Antonio looks down at his toy car.

“My spot?”

“Your spot,” I say, tapping my chest gently. “Right here. Nobody takes that.”

He leans into me a little.

“Baby sister takes my toys?”

“Absolutely not.”

He relaxes.

“Unless you want to share some.”

He frowns. “Not the red car.”

“Not the red car,” I agree instantly. “That’s sacred. I’ll put it in a glass box if I have to.”

He smiles at that.

I kiss his temple and look at the closed door again.

My heart is beating like it wants to escape my chest and go check on Rava itself.

“You’re gonna teach her things,” I tell Antonio. “You’re gonna teach her which cartoons are good. And how to build pillow forts. And how to make Dada say yes when Daddy already said no.”

Antonio perks up. “How?”

“Oh, you already know how. You do the eyes.”

He gives me the eyes immediately.

I gasp. “See? Illegal. That’s illegal power.”

He laughs and then puts his tiny hand on my wet cheek again.

“You sad?”

I swallow.

“No,” I lie badly.

He tilts his head.

I sigh. “Okay. A little.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m happy.”

His face twists. “Happy is crying?”

“Sometimes,” I say, pulling him closer.

He pats my cheek. “I fix it.”

I close my eyes and hold him tight, careful not to scare him, careful not to crush him, even though everything in me wants to cling.

My son is in my arms. My husband is behind that door. My daughter is almost here.

Our daughter. Fuck.

I’m somebody’s father twice.

Somebody trusted me with two whole humans.

God has jokes.

Everyone’s staring at the door.

Lorenzo’s got Daisy in his arms because she was crying like she was the one giving birth.

If there was an audience, she’d be bowing by now.

He’s holding her tight, half whispering to calm her down, half trying not to laugh because he’s still a little drunk and everything is hitting him ten times harder.

Marco’s off to the side talking to my mom and Rava’s mom, doing that thing where he nods like he understands anything that’s happening when in reality none of us know shit.

Valentina’s dad is sitting next to me, his hand on my back, rubbing slow circles.

“I always knew my daughter would do something like this one day,” he says.

I let out a small laugh, shaking my head.

“Yeah,” I say. “She’s tough as hell. I’m really glad we chose her, I don’t think we could’ve found anyone better.”

Because we couldn’t.

“Valentina was never a “kids” person. Not even close. She didn’t hate them, obviously, but she was never that girl dreaming about babies and family dinners. Back then, she’d sit at those long, loud tables and straight up say she didn’t think she could handle that life.“

“This is kind of ironic,” I mumble, half smiling.

He chuckles under his breath.

“I never pushed her,” he goes on, shrugging. “If you don’t want it on your own, who am I to force it on you? I’m just… glad she found a way to help someone else.”

“Sir,” Noah suddenly cuts in, way too loud for a hospital, “your daughter is a fucking legend.”

I snort.

He points at Valentina’s dad. “Exactly like your son Marco. You did a great job.”

Valentina’s dad actually laughs, and they bump fists.

“What do you think they’re doing right now?” I ask.

“They’re giving birth,” Daisy says instantly.

“Wow. Revolutionary,” Lorenzo mutters, still holding her.

Then he looks at me, eyes half-lidded, smirk lazy. “Bro… imagine if YOU were in there.”

I glare at him.

“The baby would come out and tell you to shut the fuck up.”

“First of all, rude. Second of all, that kid would respect me.”

“Yeah, sure,” he says. “Out of fear probably.”

“Do you think she’ll look like Rava?” Marco asks, glancing at me.

I open my mouth, but my mom beats me to it.

“I think she’ll look like a potato,” she says casually.

We all turn to her.

“What?”

“Have you seen what you all looked like when you were born?” she continues, completely serious. “You were little mucus creatures. Absolutely not cute.”

I laugh. “That’s comforting, thanks.”

“Don’t expect a model right away,” she adds. “Give it time.”

“Great,” I mutter. “We waited nine months for a potato.”

“An expensive one,” Lorenzo says.

“Shut up.”

We’re all laughing now.

A doctor steps out with the coldest face I’ve ever seen.

Not mean, but terrifyingly professional. Which is somehow worse.

Every single one of us freezes. Nobody breathes.

I swear even Lorenzo sobers up for half a second.

The doctor looks at all of us. “Your friend and your baby are perfectly healthy.”

I break.

My hands go to my face and I start crying. I can’t even pretend I’m being normal about it.

Everyone crashes into each other at once.

We are all laughing and crying and making these stupid broken sounds like we all got hit by the same emotional truck.

“My brother has a child,” Daisy sobs against my shoulder. “I’m going to die.”

I laugh through the tears and hug her with one arm.

The nurse steps closer with a soft smile. “I’ve been informed about the situation. So… who’s the lucky dad?”

I wipe my face with both hands, already laughing.

“Me,” I say. “Me. I am. Can I come in?”

“Of course!”

Everyone starts hitting my shoulders, my back, pushing me forward.

“Go,” Marco says. “Don’t faint,” Noah adds. “And cry quietly,” Lorenzo says.

“Fuck off,” I choke out, still smiling.

The nurse opens the door.

And the second I step inside, my hands fly straight back to my mouth.

Because Rava is there, holding this tiny little human in his arms.

Our tiny little human. She’s wrapped up so small, sleeping.

The whole room is quiet.

I look at Rava first. His eyes are wet. His face is actually glowing.

Then I look at Valentina.

Her cheeks are flushed red, her hair tied up messily, little strands stuck to her forehead.

She looks exhausted. Completely destroyed.

I walk to her first. “Hey,” I whisper.

I gently push her hair back from her face. She smiles at me, and that’s when my throat closes.

“I hope one day I can repay you for what you just did for us,” I say.

Valentina stares at me for a second. “You can start by bringing me something to eat.”

I laugh.

“Done,” I tell her. “Anything. Everything. I’ll buy the whole damn cafeteria.”

“Good,” she breathes.

I kiss her forehead because she gave us something I don’t even have words for.

Because thank you feels too small.

Then I turn.

Rava is looking at me.

I walk toward them slowly. “Please don’t yell,” Rava whispers.

I let out a shaky laugh, wiping my face again. “I’m not gonna yell.”

“You look like you’re about to.”

“I’m trying very hard to be classy.”

He smiles, and another tear slips down his cheek.

I sit beside him and look down at her. She’s so small it makes me angry.

Like who approved this? Who looked at something this tiny and said yeah, send her out there, she’ll be fine??

Her little nose. Her tiny closed eyes. Her mouth.

And maybe people will call me insane.

Maybe they’ll say it’s too early to tell. Maybe they’ll say all newborn babies look the same.

I don’t care. They’re fucking wrong.

Because I know that mouth. I know that shape.

I’ve kissed it in every light. I’ve watched it smile, tremble, swear at me, break my heart, put it back together.

I’ve studied Rava’s lips for years.

And our daughter has them. She has his mouth.

I know she does. I look up at him.

He’s already crying.

I lean in and kiss his cheek, right over the tear.

Then I rest my forehead against his temple and stare down at the sleeping little miracle in his arms.

“I’m the happiest man in the world,” I whisper.

---

Okay, I hope you enjoyed the emotional chapter because now we’re going back to chaos 😼 MUAHAHAH we are SO back.

okay sooo the entire previous book is coming out in paperback in June on Amazon, with 2 extra scenes :)

1. Lorenzo accidentally sends nudes to Gio.

2. Gio, Rava, and Antonio visit Gio’s dad’s grave (sorry).

I’M SO EXCITED TO HOLD IT IN MY HANDS AAAAAAA. anyway.

what do you guys think the baby girl’s name will be? :)

Book Announcement ✨

HEY GUYS ✨

I’m posting this to let you know that Raise or Die Part 1 is finally available as both a physical book and a Kindle ebook 🥹

(check this comment for the link)

The book includes the artwork below AND these two bonus scenes:

1. Lorenzo accidentally sends nudes to Gio. (Yes. It is exactly as much of a disaster as it sounds.)

2. A visit to the cemetery with Rava and Antonio to see Gio’s father. (I’m still recovering from that.)

Thank you for all the love you’ve shown this little family. I hope you enjoy these extra scenes with them as much as I enjoyed writing them:)

(I didn’t enjoy the second extra scene. I cried)