ARELLA (A Mafia Story)

Seven

Freya

Damon furrows his eyebrows as he tries to teach Arella how to whisk eggs. She's sitting on the counter, wholly focused on what my husband is saying to her. Our nice white granite countertops are covered in eggshells and egg yolk from Arella trying to crack eggs.

They're making a mess together. I can't even say that I mind. It's a good bonding experience for them.

Arella finally manages to crack an egg into the bowl. I'm pretty sure she got some shell in there. Who cares? I'm just proud that she managed to do it.

She smiles up at Damon, slapping his shirt to get his attention. He praises her, saying, "Good job, princess! You did it."

My baby does this little wiggle thing as she peaks over into the tall silver bowl they're using. I smile to myself. They haven't even realized I'm standing right here. I'm being a spy. I just can't help it. They're too cute when they think nobody is watching.

"Now we try whisking again." Damon instructs, wrapping his hand around Arella's on the whisk.

Hand over hand, they beat the eggs together. I'm not too sure that my mother and father are going to want to eat those. The whole reason we're doing this is because my parent's are coming over this morning for breakfast.

They've heard about Arella and want to come and meet her. While that's all fine and dandy, I'm a little bit concerned about my father. He's a mean bastard. Pa isn't even close to my son's. They don't care for their grandfather, either.

He wasn't abusive or anything like that when I was growing up. Just... Absent. He has his own mafia to run and couldn't show any weakness. Not even towards his own family.

I guess he showed he cared when it was time to marry me off at eighteen. He chose Damon, knowing that he wouldn't be a cruel husband. At the time, I thought it was the end of the world.

I wanted to marry a man of my choosing, not one that was picked for me based off how much power they had. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Damon, unlike my father, isn't afraid to show a soft side towards his family.

He cherished me from the start, and when our first son came into this world, cried right alongside me. Many people think of him as a monster or the devil, but he's just Damon to me.

"We have to be very careful around the stove," Damon tells Arella with the upmost seriousness, carrying her over to the item in question, "It's very hot. You'll get owie if you touch it. I'll do this part."

My eyebrows shoot up when he helps Arella wiggle around his body so she's clinging onto his back. It seems like a practiced move they would've done a thousand times before. She clings to him with the upmost trust, her single leg wrapping around his belly.

"Watch." He instructs.

She wiggles up higher on his back so she can see over his shoulder. Damon puts some butter into the pan, adding in the egg once it's melted.

"You're going to add some salt and pepper. Freya's pa doesn't like too much seasoning, so we're not adding anymore than that."

Arella nods against his cheek, pointing to the pan. My eyes widen when I realize what she just did. I don't think she's ever nodded her head in acknowledgment before. She points, but that's the most we've gotten from her.