Submitting in Vegas: (Vegas Morellis, #3)

by Sam Mariano

  Rafe chuckles at me and I realize I’m just standing here mooning at him instead of walking up the stairs to join everyone else in the Christmas morning festivities. I force my feet to move, turning around and heading up the steps, feeling a faint heat on my cheeks. I hope I’m not actually blushing, but I think I am.

  About half the presents are still under the tree. Carly and Sin are on the floor with Skylar, while Vince and Laurel sit on the couch. Nicholas is snuggled up in Laurel’s arms, and Skylar is slowly opening a rectangular package.

  Laurel looks up and flashes us both smiles as we come in. “Merry Christmas!”

  I lean down and hug her, smiling at baby Nicholas. “Merry Christmas. How is the most handsome boy in the world enjoying his first Christmas?”

  Nicholas peers up at me and shoves his small hand in his mouth.

  I nod my head. “Sounds about right.”

  Laurel smiles and nuzzles him. “He’s lucky Santa came at all, considering he had Mama up all hours of the night.”

  Rafe leans over my shoulder to peer down at him, murmuring, “Yeah, we Morelli men tend to keep women up all hours of the night, don’t we?”

  I feel my face heat up even more.

  Carly calls, “That’s why you get so much coal in your stocking.”

  “Not you,” Laurel tells Nicholas, folding the blanket around him and running the back of her finger along his chubby cheek. “You’re perfect. You’re never going to do anything wrong.”

  “Oh, boy,” Rafe says, leaning back, apparently done visiting Nicholas, and looking around for a spot. Sin is in daddy mode, so he looks past him to the couch. The only empty spot is next to Vince, so I’m not going to take it. I know Rafe insists Vince isn’t a creep for anyone but his ex, but I’m not trying to sit next to sexual offenders.

  “You can sit next to your cousin,” I urge him, so I can sit on the floor at his feet, near Carly.

  “Are you going to sit on my lap?” Rafe murmurs.

  My eyes widen of their own volition and I look up at him. Since I’m unsure about his family knowing about us, I make a joke. “Are you wearing a red fat suit and a big white beard?”

  “No,” he drawls. “That’s a weird fetish, even for me, Virginia.”

  Laurel snickers and I feel like my whole face is on fire. Now every joke feels like a flashing sign over my head that we had sex.

  Carly roots around under the tree. She made it look really nice last night, but it has all been torn apart, probably while she tried to locate all of Skylar’s gifts in the pile. “Here’s one for you, Virginia,” she says, holding it up.

  “Oh. There are actually presents for me? I didn’t realize… Oh, my gosh, I didn’t bring presents, I only brought stuff to make breakfast. I thought it would just be for the kids, I’m so sorry.”

  “No, we didn’t expect presents,” Laurel assures her. “We just didn’t want you to feel left out.”

  “And of course I got you something,” Rafe tells me.

  I’m floored. I look up at him, confused, then back at the present Carly is holding out with a pleasant smile. I take the package and look at it—it’s from Carly, strangely enough. “Well, now I feel terrible.”

  “Don’t. Please, if I want something, I just use Vince’s money to buy it, right, Satan?”

  “That’s right,” Rafe says easily. “Gold digger logic 101.”

  Carly rolls her eyes like his existence disgusts her. “I really didn’t get you anything, though. Not a damn thing.”

  “I’m heartbroken,” Rafe says, clutching his heart. “I got you a present.”

  “Good,” she says, smiling up at him brightly. “I still don’t feel bad.”

  “That’s all right, Vivian, I can afford to buy my own toys,” he says, stepping over a wrapping paper graveyard and walking over to take the seat by Vince.

  “Really?” Vince asks. “You’re going to make her sit on the floor, and you’re going to take the couch?”

  Rafe quirks a golden brow. “Your wife is on the floor.”

  “Because her niece is opening presents,” Vince states. “She wanted to help.”

  “Well, Virginia doesn’t want to risk getting pregnant, so I advised her to take the floor.”

  Vince glares, and Carly’s head snaps around to point between them. “You two, do not even start. I mean it.”

  “You’re the one who gets people pregnant, Casanova,” Laurel informs him, shaking her head. “Vince has never knocked anyone up, and I’m pretty sure when he does, it’ll be my sister.”

  Since everyone in the room but Laurel now knows that isn’t true, we all let the moment pass and turn our attention to the present opening.

  Carly gasps dramatically and pulls a tiny pair of pink shoes out of the box Skylar finally got open. “Wow! Look at these fancy new kicks, Skylar.”

  Skylar grins at the shoes and claps—more because of Carly’s enthusiasm than because of the shoes, I’m pretty sure.

  Once Rafe sinks into the spot next to Vince, I walk over and take a seat on the floor, placing my present in my lap. I don’t know if I should open it or not, but Carly glances back at me to see if I’ve opened it yet, so I start tearing into it.

  It’s a nice MAC eye shadow palette—or, I think it’s eye shadow. There’s a larger round one on the right hand side that may or may not be eye shadow. It’s skin colored, so it could be something else. Highlighter is a thing, maybe it’s highlighter. Well, either way, it is make-up.

  “These colors are beautiful. Thanks, Carly, that was so nice of you. You really didn’t have to get me anything.”

  “No sweat,” she assures me, flashing me a smile over her shoulder, then turning her attention back to Skylar.

  Rafe tells Carly to open her present from him. She tells him she doesn’t think she should in polite company, but she roots around for it anyway. The package she locates is thin and rectangular, like a movie case, so she shoots him a look.

  “This isn’t porn, is it? There are little ones present.”

  “It isn’t porn,” he assures her.

  She seems skeptical, but opens it anyway. It is a Blu-ray of the 90’s classic, Pretty Woman. She gives him a dead-eyed look, and he seems quite pleased with himself as he tells her, “Merry Christmas, Vivian.”

  They have a strange relationship. I bet if he had met her before Vince, they would have hooked up. She would have been one more blonde he snuggled in a booth while I took their food order. He probably wouldn’t have knocked up her sister in that case, though one can never be completely sure.

  Many, many presents later, the tree is nearly cleared. Laurel got herself, me, and Carly all matching pairs of fuzzy Christmas colored socks. I’m going to wear them in bed later and run my feet up and down Rafe’s legs. Apparently, it was Carly’s turn to buy mugs this year, whatever that means. She apologizes to me that I did not get one, since she had no idea I existed when she was picking them out, but she gives mugs to Laurel, Sin, and Vince.

  “No mug for me?” Rafe asks, feigning hurt.

  “I told you, you get nothing,” Carly states.

  “I actually got you a mug,” Laurel admits.

  Carly gasps, as if betrayed. “You didn’t.”

  “I did, but you’re going to approve,” Laurel assures her, gesturing to a small, square package under the tree. “Baby, can you grab that box, please?”

  Sin grabs it and hands it to Carly, who passes it to Rafe.

  “This is going to be awful, isn’t it?” Rafe asks.

  “I hope so,” Carly says. “You are not worthy of being part of our mug tradition.”

  He makes quick work of unwrapping and unboxing the present, and when he pulls out the white ceramic mug, I bite back a smile. It reads, “Damn it feels good to be a gangster” and has pink and purple flowers all over it.

  Laurel is grinning when he looks over at her. “Do you love it?”

  Rafe shakes his head, puts the mug back in the box, and hands it to me. “Here you go, Virgini
a. You get a mug this year.”

  “Ordinarily I would say mugs can’t be transferred, but if it means you don’t get one and everyone else does, I approve,” Carly says, her messy bun bobbing as she nods.

  “Wow, you really hate him, don’t you?” I ask.

  “He impregnated my 19-year-old sister. He’s the worst,” Carly answers.

  Everyone else opens their mugs. Laurel is delighted when her new mug proclaims, “My husband is hotter than my coffee.”

  Sin’s reads quite accurately, “Stop saying words to me.”

  Carly wiggles her eyebrows when Vince opens his: “Blow me. I’m hot.”

  “I got one for Mia, too,” Carly tells Laurel. “Remind me to stick it in the box to ship out tomorrow.”

  “What box?” Rafe inquires. “I wasn’t aware we were sending presents to Chicago. I didn’t get her anything, either. Next year, someone needs to do a much better job of telling me who all I need to buy gifts for.”

  Vince shakes his head. “You don’t have to buy anything. It was just a backdoor way of getting to send presents for Dom. Mateo won’t let me send any, but Laurel’s allowed, so we just brought his stuff to put in her package.”

  Rafe stares at Vince like he’s a fucking idiot. “You don’t really think Mateo doesn’t know about this shit, right? You think Mia is sending you pictures he doesn’t know about? You think he expects Laurel to be sending Dom extra gifts? Come on, now.”

  I’m a little confused as to how they all think Laurel won’t find it odd that Vince pays so much extra attention to Dom, but when I look over at her, she is blissfully absorbed in loving on Nicholas. She has to hear this, right? Laurel is an intelligent girl—has she honestly not put the pieces together?

  “Anyway,” Carly says, redirecting the conversation. “Nicholas still has lots of gifts to open. Skylar, you want to help?”

  She doesn’t. Skylar is completely over opening presents; now she just wants to play with the ones she can already see. That’s understandable, so Carly enlists my help, and while Sin cleans up wrapping paper and helps Skylar open her new bath squirties so she can eat the starfish, Carly and I open Nicky’s gifts. He gets lots of good things—cashmere socks, a fabric book, cute little shoes, a onesie that proclaims, “His majesty has arrived,” and then a funnier one that states, “What happened in Vegas didn’t stay in Vegas.”

  I hold that one up to show Rafe, quite proud of whomever bought it. Probably Carly.

  “Technically, he happened in Chicago,” Rafe states.

  “Probably,” Laurel adds. “I’m not sure which city he happened in.”

  “Moving on,” Sin says, lifting an eyebrow at Laurel.

  Carly and I continue to open Nicky’s presents. Rafe got him a cute little musical lamb. I love it so much, I crawl over to show him. “Look at this little guy. Look how cute.” I turn the tab on his butt to wind him up, then hand the lamb to Laurel so she can hold it up for Nicky while it sings.

  “Do you like that?” she asks.

  Nicky’s tiny hand pops out of his blanket and he reaches up, resting his hand on the lamb’s head.

  “Aw, he loves it,” I decide. “Do you mind if I take a picture?”

  “Of course not,” Laurel says.

  While I take a couple pictures of Nicky with my phone, Rafe gets off the couch to retrieve a small rectangular package for Laurel, and a much smaller rectangular box for me. “Here you go, ladies.”

  I tuck my phone away, looking up at him and flashing him a smile. “Thank you.”

  Laurel starts opening hers, so I let her go first. It’s a Nordstrom gift box, and inside is a navy blue, crossbody purse. Laurel oohs over it, then opens it up to check it out and finds a bookstore gift card inside. Her eyes light up more over the gift card than the purse.

  “Thank you,” she tells Rafe. “We’ll have to take Nicky to pick out a new book once my warden permits me to leave the house.”

  Sin gives her a stoic stare. “You just had a baby.”

  Laurel looks to Rafe, faintly apologetic. “It might be five years.”

  “He just doesn’t want you to go out with me, kitten,” Rafe teases.

  “I’ve let you take my future wife on enough dates for one lifetime,” Sin grumbles.

  “It can’t be a date if we bring a baby,” Rafe assures Sin. “I mean, unless you’re offering to babysit.”

  “I guess somebody doesn’t want to be invited to Christmas next year,” Sin replies.

  “Oh, come on,” Rafe says. “I was joking.”

  “I’m laughing my ass off,” Sin tells him.

  Rafe shakes his head. “Man, everyone is in a fucking mood today. Lighten up. Next year we should do Christmas at my house, so we all have more space to get away from each other from time to time. This place is too cramped, that’s the problem.”

  “My house is not cramped,” Sin states.

  Laurel sighs, but offers more of an explanation. “We were up all night with a newborn, Rafe. We’re sleepy.”

  “I tried to help,” Carly volunteers. “But it turns out he only wanted me for my boobs, and as soon as he realized he wasn’t getting any milk out of them, it was all over with.”

  “Why don’t you take a nap after breakfast?” I suggest. “Rafe and I can watch Nicky for a little while so you can get some sleep. I feel bad that you’re hosting Christmas so soon after having a baby, anyway.”

  “The problem is I can’t pump yet. I tried, and I couldn’t even get a whole ounce out. I don’t want him to be hungry.”

  “Well, pump that ounce, we’ll throw it in the fridge, and you and Sin can take a nap for a couple of hours. Let us help you. That’s literally what I’m here for,” I remind her.

  “Me too,” Carly agrees.

  “You have to help tonight,” I tell her. “If you guys are tired, you should take a nap, too. I’ve babysat Skylar before, so I can handle her and a newborn. Since I didn’t get anyone a present, it’s the least I can do.”

  “Are you sure?” Laurel asks skeptically. Nodding her head at Rafe, she says, “He’s not much help with a baby.”

  I offer her a smile. “I can handle it myself.”

  “If you’re sure you don’t mind,” Laurel says. “I am really tired.”

  “It’s settled,” I tell her, setting my present aside. “I’ll go make breakfast now so we can get all of you to bed.”

  “Wait, aren’t you going to open your gift?” Rafe asks.

  “I’ll do it afterward,” I tell him, meeting his gaze. “When it’s just us.”

  16

  Rafe

  I check my watch and glance toward the kitchen, watching for Virginia. She took Nicky for a walk through the house when he got fussy, but that felt like ages ago. She’s still missing, Vince and Carly took Skylar to nap with them so I can’t even play with the baby that actually does some stuff, and I’m getting bored.

  I pull out my phone and screw around on that for a while, but she finally comes back, so I put it away. Virginia looks serene as she rocks Nicky, peering down at him, then up at me, her brown eyes full of softness.

  “He’s asleep,” she says softly, before sinking into the spot next to me on the couch.

  Reaching an arm around behind her, I pull her close and glance down at him. “It’s a Christmas miracle.”

  “He’s a great baby,” she says, looking up at me. “He’s barely been alive for three days and already he had to deal with a mini family reunion.”

  “Poor little guy.”

  “Already working on that badass card, aren’t you?” she says, brushing his soft cheek with her thumb. Glancing over at me, she asks, “Do you want to hold him?”

  “You seem to have it under control. I’ll let you keep him, unless of course you’d like to open your presents.”

  “I think I’ll hold this little present for another minute first,” she says lightly. “I am excited to see what you picked out for me,” she assures me. “It’s just… you know, there’s an adorable sl
eeping baby that I can cuddle, and I don’t get to do that every day.”

  I nod my understanding, searching her face for signs of longing. It’s hard to tell why she likes Nicky so much—if her own biological clock is ticking, or she just likes babies. Might as well ask, I suppose.

  “Do you want kids?”

  My question startles her, but she keeps her gaze on Nicky for a moment rather than looking up at me. When she begins answering, she hems and hauls in a way that makes me wonder at the accuracy of her response. “I…” She trails off and leaves that there for a long time. Really, a long time.

  My lips curve faintly. “So, yes?”

  “No. I…” She sighs. “I’m not sure. I mean, I could see myself being fine without kids as long as I got to be the fun aunt, or, like… say I had a stepchild or something like that, then that would be fine. I don’t have to have kids of my own. My life could be perfectly full without any. But if I married someone who wanted kids, then I would also be content to have one or two. I’m flexible. I don’t have baby fever, if that’s what you’re asking. But you already have this baby for me to love on, so I might as well, right?”

  “You don’t have to defend what you want, Virginia, I was merely asking.”

  “I know,” she replies, a faintly defensive. “And I answered you.”

  “If I said I wanted kids, then how would you feel?”

  “Confused,” she answers. “But as I said, I’m open to both possibilities.”

  “All right. I don’t want kids,” I add, to clarify.

  “I know,” she assures me.

  “I don’t see that changing,” I add, in the interest of fairness. “This one came out a boy, now I have an heir, I’m all set. The only reason I might have had kids is gone now.”

  Looking down at Nicholas, she says, “I wouldn’t want you to have kids, if that was the only reason.”