The Donafrio Donor (18+ Only) [COMPLETED]

EPILOGUE: In Which She Makes 3 Minutes Count

EPILOGUE: In Which She Makes 3 Minutes Count

**************************************

“Mummy, ask me again. Ask me again.”

“Okay, okay,” I said, feeling slightly frazzled as I pulled the cake out of the oven. I set it on the marble counter before turning to look down at Mickey. “Capital of...Madagascar? Take your time with this one.”

He closed his eyes for a few seconds before opening them again and announcing proudly, “Anta...” He paused. “Antana...I don’t know how to pronounce it yet, but you know what I mean, right, Mummy?”

“Antananarivo,” I said slowly. “Yes, pet. Mummy always knows what you mean.” I ruffled his unruly mop of coal-black curls. “Why don’t you go upstairs and change?”

He wrinkled his nose. Mickey hated anyone messing with his beloved hair. “Okay.”He scampered out the kitchen and left me to clean up while waiting for the cake to cool before putting it on a platter and icing it.

The candles came next – eight, big blue ones that stood proudly in the centre of the chocolate cake. I opened the big tube of Smarties and elaborately placed them around the candles before standing back to admire my handiwork. I still got a tad bit sentimental every birthday.

And who can blame me? I thought. After all, I nearly lost him once.

I shook my head. Today wasn’t going to be one of my nightmarish reminiscing days. Today was going to be filled with joy and irritating family members and plenty of cake and booze.

“Looks good enough to devour right now,” Jules’ voice came from behind me, cutting short my mental pep talk.

I smiled and turned around. “You were supposed to get here earlier.”

“I know, I know,” she said, squeezing herself into a chair at the table. “I woke up late and Charlie...well, you know how Charlie is. Time is a figment of the imagination with him.” She dipped a finger in the icing bowl and brought it to her mouth. “Where’s the birthday boy, anyway?”

“Upstairs. Miraculously, I didn’t have to fight him out of that dreadful Ben 10 costume.”

“Hey, my husband bought that with love.” She grimaced.

“What is it? Is everything OK?” I asked anxiously.

Jules nodded quickly. “Everything’s fine. Your nephew’s going to be the next David Beckham, is all.”

I laughed, reaching down and placing my hand over her ever-expanding belly. “God forbid.” As if he’d heard me, Charlie Jr. kicked in agreement. “And where is my tardy brother?”