Is This Happiness

57

I was trying to leave the room but Stefano wouldn't let me. He pulls me back into his warm chest. Finding my lips with his own. For three nights now, I've slept in his arms. The man was clingy as fuck, and I loved every bit of it.

"You know I don't celebrate." His morning voice sends tingles down my spine. Even if he was complaining.

"There's a feast waiting for us downstairs." I kiss his neck once more before jumping up to straddle him. I don't care if he doesn't celebrate Christmas because I do. Watching me for a minute. I wiggle my eyebrows at his quietness.

"You'll cook for our kids some day?" What did he say? Pausing at his words, I laugh.

Slow down buddy. You're about too many years ahead of your time.

"Years and years and years.." He rolls his eyes. Stefano Genovese rolled his eyes at me.

"Months." You'd have to fuck me for that to happen. The nagging voice in my head pouts.
Fuck being slow he says. But hasn't fucked me yet.

"A decade." I tap the Italians nose, kissing it.

"A year." He gambles, squinting his eyes up at me teasingly. He really wasn't giving in.

"Four." I offer with a big smile at our game.

"Three." His words are clearly final. With his brows furrowed angrily.

"Deal." I extend my hand for him to shake. Resulting my chest to be flesh with his.

"Only joking, prezioso." He better be.

"Okay come on we have to go."

"You baby, just you." I groan, punching his back. Of course he would be busy in the office.

"You wouldn't stay in bed all day without me would you." My eyes tear up. To say i'd become attached to his side would be an understatement.

"Only you are that lazy." Smirking down at me. I smack his shoulder.

"You agree like every time." He backs up, leaving his bedside.

Some days he allows me to keep him to myself for some hours before he gets a call. He'd only ever get calls when things turn into shit, as Stefano explains it.

I huff, getting up myself. Today would be a long day of cooking. Apparently the two women, aka my mother and his believed in chefs. Just not on Christmas Eve.

Although I liked it. It was a traditional thing my mother and I did cooking for my brother and father. Now I get to share it with Harper and her mom.

Leaving with thunderous bangs onto the bathroom door and a loud, goodbye. I exit, eyeing the i talking guard next to Stefano's door.

He never said a thing watching me walk in and out each day. Unlike the shifts taken by the others on each quarter. He and another man were the only consistent.

Trading turns like clockwork.

"Mom Carmen's here, can I leave now?" Harper whines, walking up to me.

"Grab the damn spatula!" I choke back a laugh, pushing her towards the large kitchen island.

Food was everywhere.

"Why can't I go? Cooking isn't a me thing." She continues her complaining receiving and angry eye from the two women mixing.

"Carmen would you get the spatula." Mom asks sweetly. Of course I will dear mother.

Winking at Harper she sticks the middle of her finger up. "Can't I watch?" The sound of our three voices yelling no echo the kitchen.

And we start cooking, baking, prepping. For hours on end. Until the sun fell behind the trees to be exact.