by Bethany-Kris
“You have the strangest way of teaching me things, Ma.”
Catrina’s smile bloomed wider. “Your final lesson. I’m going to enjoy stepping back now for good. Enjoying what I’ve made, and watching how you grow it into something even better. You’re my daughter, after all, so I expect nothing less.”
“I want to be angry with you.”
“Yet, you really can’t,” Catrina said with a tip of her hand. “Because you see, when it’s your turn, and her turn …” A nod came in Cross and Cece’s direction before Catrina continued on with, “Then you will also know what to do, or perhaps she’s already soaking it in. Maybe she will make it easier on you than I did. Who knows? What was the lesson, Catherine?”
Catherine stared long and hard at her mother. Cross wasn’t sure his wife was even going to answer. She did, eventually.
“Never stand for competition,” Catherine said. “Always cut it off at the knees.”
“What else?”
“Trust no one.”
“Not even those closest to you. Even your own mother. Well done, mia regina.”
Catherine looked away. “Not the little queen, now?”
“Not when the crown no longer fits. Time to wear a new one.”
“I still want to be mad at you.”
“That’s okay,” Catrina said with a sigh. “We now have all the time in the world to work whatever it is out, and finally, without me being your boss. I’ve missed being just your mother. It’s a delicate line otherwise.”
Catherine’s defensive posture relaxed, and her crossed arms dropped to her sides. “You’re kind of amazing, Ma. You know that, right?”
“Only kind of?”
Cross snorted to himself. Both women’s eyes darted to him, but he was already taking another drink of coffee and looking anywhere but at them.
Cece pushed away from her father’s legs, and crossed her little arms over her chest. She eyed both her mother and grandmother like she was considering what she had just witnessed, and deciding how she felt about it.
Their sly, wild girl.
Their smart girl.
She didn’t miss a fucking click.
“Ma no mads,” Cece said, not even posing it at a question. “No mads at Grandmamma.”
“No, I’m not mad, Cece.” Catherine looked happier, and Cross liked that, too. These last few months had been difficult for more reasons than he cared to admit. “Are you mad, baby?”
Cece shook her head, which caused her waist-length hair to fly out in all directions. “Not to my ma.”
“And what about me?” Catrina asked. “Are you mad at me, bambina?”
Cross set his cup to the counter, and used his elbow to keep himself propped up. This was the most amusement he had in days. He was not going to miss this for a second. Cece never disappointed with her quick wit and cute face.
She didn’t disappoint this time, either.
Strolling across the kitchen, Cece pointed at her grandmother. She walked right on past, heading toward the entryway, and never once dropping her hand or looking away.
“No makes my ma mads,” Cece said earnestly, “no makes me mads, Grandmamma.”
Serious as could be.
Narrowed brown eyes.
A single pointed finger.
That girl of theirs was going to be just like her mother and grandmother. Dangerous. Pretty. Sharp. Quick. Everything good and wonderful and perfect.
“Cece, be nice,” Catherine called after her daughter.
“I says what I says, Ma!”
Cross full-on laughed that time.
He couldn’t help it.
Catherine shot him a look.
So did Catrina.
He shrugged.
“She is definitely my kid,” he said as he followed his daughter out of the kitchen. “And I regret nothing.”
“You look tired.”
Catherine stared down at Cross where he was stretched out across the large sectional in their living room. “And you look very comfortable.”
“I can afford to be comfortable now, babe.”
She smiled just a little. “So I heard. Got that all worked out with Andino, did you?”
“Enough, yeah.”
“What did you figure out?”
“I’m going to get some guys run-ready for him.”
Catherine nodded. “So, less work.”
“A lot less.” Cross smirked. “Seems you’ll have a lot less work going on, too. Taking over for your mom and knowing all the ropes has it’s perks, Catty. No more running back and forth across the country. No more lessons. All business.”
Catherine sighed happily. “Yep.”
“So, this is what the top feels like, huh?”
Her laughter was a balm to his soul.
“Yes, running after kids, church every Sunday morning, dinner on the table, and sore feet at night. This is definitely what the top feels like, Cross.”
“You don’t sound very sad about it.”
Catherine didn’t even think about it before she said, “I’m not.”
Other than the sandy blond-haired man professing his love for an equally blonde woman on the television, their house was quiet. Cece had gone to sleep after her nightly book, and a subsequent review that the novel was good enough to be read another night. There was a first time for everything, he supposed.
Catherine rubbed a hand over her stomach, and smiled sweetly at him. Reaching up, his hand covered hers. Pride, love, and happiness spread through his veins like a fast growing wildfire. It grew in his chest until it was almost hard to breathe.
He didn’t even mind.
“Still think it’s another girl,” he told her.
Catherine shook her head. “Nope. It’s a boy.”
“You only say that because Cece thinks it’s a boy. And she only thinks it’s a boy because she wants a brother.”
“You keep thinking that, Cross.”
“I will.” He eyed her with a grin. “Two is still your limit?”
“Don’t even,” she warned.
Well, he would never know if he didn’t try.
“I was thinking a half of a football team, you know.”
“You know I could cut your balls off before you even knew what happened while you’re sleeping, right?”
Instinctively, Cross moved his hand from his wife’s stomach to cover his junk. It didn’t matter that he was wearing jeans. “Don’t you even think like that, Catherine.”
“Call it a fair warning.”
“So that’s a no on more kids, then?”
Catherine snorted. “That’s a no. Cece is like five kids in one.”
“She’s just like me, that’s all.”
“Exactly,” his wife said with a roll of her pretty green eyes. “And if this one is a boy, God help us all.”
Finally feeling slightly safer about uncovering his cock and balls, he reached out to snag his wife by her wrists. Tugging her gently, he pulled her into the couch, and on to him. She stretched out like a happy little kitten over top of him.
Leaning up, Catherine watched him through her thick lashes. Cross kissed his wife three times in quick succession on her pretty mouth.
“Life is finally going to slow down,” she said.
“Kind of scary, isn’t it?”
Catherine lifted her shoulders as if to say, I don’t know.
“At least we won’t be bored to tears.” He kept one of his hands roving over his wife’s stomach, and his other drifted through her hair. “Life makes sure of that.”
“Can’t be bored with you, anyway.”
“Oh?”
“Nope.”
“You give me too much credit, Catty.”
“Never, wild boy.”
Cross grinned.
Thankfully, life hadn’t changed them that much.
“Always, my sly girl.”
“Cross!”
Catherine’s shriek carried out of the master bathroom. Cross had been beyond exhausted
when he fell asleep the night before. She wasn’t sure if he even heard her.
“Cross!”
“W-what? Jesus, what?”
His grumbled, sleepy voice filtered into the bathroom. Catherine clenched her eyes shut and breathed her way through another round of pain. She couldn’t even speak through the damn things. They had come on so quickly.
She wasn’t finished preparing for the baby.
The clothes weren’t put away. The crib wasn’t put together. Her baby shower was a week away, yet. It was too early—a whole month early.
The baby didn’t seem to care at all.
“Catty,” Cross called from inside the bedroom, “are you okay?”
“No,” she hissed through gritted teeth. “Get in here.”
She had woken up in the middle of the night with an ache in her back that felt like someone was sticking a hot knife against her spine. She hadn’t thought anything of it, the bed wasn’t wet, and she wasn’t having any kind of pain other than that one strange ache.
Certainly not contractions.
Cece’s pregnancy and birth had been textbook, as far as Catherine was concerned. Every single little thing the books talked about would happen, happened. Contractions started at far spread intervals. She labored for hours upon hours like that, until they finally became closer together and more intense. The doctors only wanted her in the hospital when the contractions were less than three to four minutes apart. The doctor used a strange looking hook to break her waters. She got a nice little epidural that took away the pain. She pushed for a bit, and Cece was born screaming.
Yeah, textbook.
Apparently, this birth was not going to be the same.
Another wave of pain hit just as Cross came into view in the bathroom doorway. His disheveled appearance spoke to how hard he had been sleeping because the man looked good rolling out of bed first thing in the morning. His wild eyes searched for her, and found her in a full bath of what had been hot water.
It was now lukewarm.
“What—”
“Baby is coming,” Catherine told him.
Cross’s hands pressed to the doorjamb on either side of him. Leaning forward, he simply stared at her like he didn’t understand the words coming out of her mouth. “Are you sure it’s not those fake contractions?”
Another contraction started then.
Catherine had been counting.
Thirty seconds apart was now twenty.
“Cross, I swear to fucking God, get me out of this goddamn tub right now.”
Every single word came out strained, high pitched, and desperate. She couldn’t even be mad that he didn’t see how much pain she was in because all she could do was clench her fists, grit her teeth, and breathe. Nothing helped, anyway.
“Holy shit,” Cross mumbled. “You didn’t want to wake me up and let me know you were having contractions, or what?”
“I wasn’t having contractions, Cross,” she snarled at him. “I was having a pain in my back. I thought a hot bath would help. I fell asleep, and then woke up when contractions actually started. The water was a little cloudy—I knew my water broke. There wasn’t even really a minute between the contractions. I called for you five fucking times!”
“Fuck. I’m sorry, Catty.”
“Get me out of this bathtub!”
“Okay, okay, okay.”
His repeated chant did not help her in the slightest. Catherine squeezed her eyes shut once more as the peak of the contraction hit. Like a wave, it rushed in, gained pressure to its most painful point, and then began to taper off.
She barely felt her husband’s arms wrap her into a tight embrace as he yanked her dripping wet from the bathtub. By the time the contraction started to wane, Catherine opened her eyes to see the bedroom ceiling staring back at her.
Cross was at the side of the bed, phone in hand. He pressed it to his ear, and held it there using his shoulder as he reached over to stroke Catherine’s cheek.
“It’s all right,” he told her. And then, “Yeah, Zeke, it’s Cross. Can you get over here right now? I need someone to take Cece because Catherine’s in labor.”
Another contraction hit.
That wasn’t even ten seconds after the last one ended.
And the pressure.
It came fast.
Hard.
Strong.
Undeniable.
Push, her body demanded.
Push, push, push.
She did.
Silently, fingers digging into bedsheets, and purely out of instinct. She pushed.
“Get off the phone,” she told Cross when she sucked in a gulp of air. “Get off the phone and catch this baby.”
Cross’s dark eyes flashed to her. “Babe—”
His words cut off when his stare followed her motions. Her hand was between her thighs, feeling the indescribable bulge of her baby’s head. Right there, that’s what had been happening in the tub, she realized. That’s what the burning sharp pain had been. Her baby moving down.
“I can feel the head, Cross,” she mumbled, pain saturating her senses. The pain was terrible—intense and burning and horrible—yet her mind was clear. “Just … oh, my God, help me.”
Catherine wasn’t entirely sure what happened after she got those few tearful, frightened words out. This was not how her birth had been planned—it was supposed to be her, a doctor, trained nurses, and a sterilized room with a nice little epidural to make things easier. She didn’t know what happened because the pain took over again, and her body demanded she act to make it stop.
Hands cupped her face, and dark eyes found hers through the haze.
Shh …
And, Breathe, Catherine.
You’re doing so great, babe.
Nazio Cross Donati came into the world quiet. He didn’t scream the halls down like his sister had done when she was born. No, his mother had done that for him. He came quietly, assuredly, slowly with a soft little hiccup and chubby pink cheeks. He came unknowing that his father would use his mother’s knife in her bedside drawer to cut his cord, or that his older sister had been watching from the bedroom doorway in silence because she never stayed in her own bed. He came into the world into waiting hands—his father’s hands.
Hands that already loved him.
Hands that had been waiting for him.
They finally knew, then, born in the very early morning hours of August twenty-ninth …
A boy.
Nazio Cross Donati.
Thirteen months later …
“Do a little twirl for me, baby,” Catherine said.
Cece smiled a blinding sight, and did as her mother said. In the softest baby pink dress, she twirled wide, showing off little kitten wedge heels, and black tights underneath. Her little fingernails were painted the same pink as her dress, and matched her mother’s. Catherine had even let her sneak a kiss worth of pink gloss on her mouth.
But only because it was a special day.
Cross, on the other hand, did not think it was a special day. “We still have time to back out.”
Catherine ignored him.
Cece was the girl of the hour.
“Am I pretty, Ma?”
Catherine dropped down to a crouch, and caught her little girl’s hands in her own. “Cece, you are the most beautiful girl. Right, Daddy?”
Cross forced a smile on his scowling face. “The most beautiful. Like Ma.”
Cece’s happiness didn’t falter, but Catherine could still see just the slightest hint of nerves in her girl’s face. She swore that if Cross saw Cece’s anxiety, he would pull the plug on this whole shebang. Catherine couldn’t let him do that to Cece. She needed this. Their girl was ready for this.
Kindergarten was a rite of passage.
And the law.
The principal of the private school—Bishop Academy—waved at Cece from the other end of the walkway. For now, they stayed at the gate. The school had policies for the young ones. They wanted the kindergarten
ers to take their first steps into school alone. The parents could take them to the gate, say goodbye, but let them walk the rest of the way on their own.
Sure, if a kid was having trouble, then the policy allowed for changes.
Cece, however, had no trouble.
Even with her little nerves.
“You have fun,” Catherine told her.
“And punch any boy that bothers you,” Cross added.
Catherine shot him a look.
He shrugged.
“I loves my ma, Ma,” Cece told Catherine.
Okay, that broke her heart a little bit. Cece still told them she loved them how she used to as a little girl. She grew bigger, older, and her vocabulary matched, but she still used that old, sweet phrase to tell them her love.
Maybe Catherine could understand why Cross wasn’t ready to let go of their girl quite yet.
Still, Catherine took a deep breath, and willed the oncoming tears away. “I love you, too, my girl. You’re going to be amazing.”
Cece flipped a small hand through her perfectly curled, loose hair. “Of course, Ma. I’m me.”
And there she was.
Catherine’s little mini me.
All that swagger was Cross, though.
Perfect.
Cross chuckled as Catherine stood. He took her place, kneeled down to say goodbye.
“Daddy loves you, huh?”
“I know, Daddy.”
“Take no shit, right?”
“Cross,” Catherine muttered.
He paid her no mind.
“Right,” Cece said with a nod.
“What else?”
“I do what I want,” their daughter said in her girlish, childish voice.
So many calls.
Catherine could hear the teachers and principals now.
“That’s right,” Cross said, holding out his fist. Cece bumped it with her own, and then bent in to kiss her father on the mouth. “Push the button on your watch, and Daddy will be here in no time. Got it?”
“Yep.”
“And—”
“You’re kinda makin’ me late, Daddy,” Cece said seriously, “and I gots a place to claim.”