I blew him a kiss.
He went on clipping my panties and bras on the clothes line. And I’d never been more content in my life.
Days turned to weeks. Weeks turned to months. Months turned to years.
The old oak in the backyard, the same oak I had carved the name of the boy I swore I wouldn’t forget at the age of seven, now bore the names of each additional family member we welcomed into our brood.
It had become tradition.
Later that year, another name would be carved into the Falco oak.
And my heart and soul settled as my family grew.
The soft cries coming from the nursery had me shooting up in bed, momentarily confused and fretful enough to make me sweat. But he was already up and out the door. And when he returned with the little bundle, I switched on the lamp as he set her down gently between us.
Her nostrils flared and her mouth pulled down, her lips trembling as her little arms attempted to break free of her muslin restraint. No. She wasn’t happy, our little dame. And we both knew why.
Blinking sleepily, I reached up to unhook the front of my bra and lowered the cup before gently lifting my sweet little girl and holding her to my breast. She latched on quickly, my little piggy, and did her thing as her father leaned on his side, propping himself up drowsily on his elbow, watching us both lovingly as she ate her fill.
My husband stroked the wispy hairs at the back of her head, and whispered sleepily, “Slow down, Fia. Momma’s not goin’ anywhere.”
My heart could barely take how much love I had inside me. It was strong, overflowing, and as it settled over me like a warm blanket, I wondered if it would ever get old.
Chances were, it wouldn’t. And I was okay with that. In fact, I was counting on it.
Twitch was somewhat of a voyeur these days, especially when it came to his children. He loved to watch A.J. do his homework, priding our eldest on his smarts. He adored watching Matteo fall on his little tush, trying in vain to stop his little legs from falling out from underneath him as he attempted to run before he could even walk. But, most of all, he treasured every moment of Sofia’s feeding.
His little princess, he called her. Daddy’s girl.
I had a premonition she would be the apple of her father’s eye.
Heck. She already was.
So much he’d missed out on with our firstborn. He was making sure he didn’t miss out on another single second of their precious childhood.
Scars.
We had them in spades.
But those scars had shaped us into the people we were today. And although our wounds had started out painful, the marks they left were permanent. Everlasting. And I was grateful for the reminder of how hard we had worked to be together.
It told me a lot about us.
Failure was never an option. Twitch and I would be together or die trying.
There were days when I would sit back and watch my family thrive with such sentiment that I would silently excuse myself and weep in complete quiet, in secrecy, because the sheer force of the emotion was absolutely crippling.
We had made it.
Every day was a gift.
We had made it, against all odds, taking the road less traveled.
It was us against the world, and I would protect this family with every last fiber of my being.
Which brings me to my point.
A word of warning to those meaning to harm my family.
My name is Alexa Falco. And I am not afraid anymore.
Come for us.
I dare you.
I will take you the fuck down.
––––––––
The End.
Raw:
Rebirth