It was once again 2 pm as I silently walked to the nursery. My wristwatch was buzzing, and by this time, the troublemakers—once again, girls—were awake and most likely wet. As I entered, I could see that Fiona was about to lose it, and when she did, the rest of them would surely wake up. So I hurried and picked her up, shushing her as I carried her to the changing station.
"Shh, my love, Mommy is here. Let's change you, shall we? It will soon be a lot nicer," I crooned to my little troublemaker and laid her down, starting to take off her clothes.
"Mommy, I wanna help," a small voice said beside me.
I glanced down and saw Seraphina standing there.
I refrained from rolling my eyes since this could be done faster without help, but I smiled at her and said, "Sure thing, angel. Why don't you hand me new clothes for Fiona? You know they are the pink ones."
She eagerly walked to the dresser, opened it, and took a pile of pink clothes, as we had organized them into sets to make it easier for eager helpers to give us a whole set. Proudly, she delivered the clothes and hopped onto a small stool so she could see better.
By then, I had gotten Fiona naked and was just putting the dirty diaper in the bin when Seraphina handed me the first wipe.
I smiled at her and started to clean my daughter, with her big sister—about three years old—eagerly helping and talking to Fiona. "Shh, see? Mommy helps. Don't cry, it's okay."
Seraphina always handed me wipes, and I got Fiona somewhat cleaned before reaching for soothing ointment, as she had slightly red areas.
"Mommy, I'm here too! What can I do?" This time it was Dash, standing on the other side of me.
I said to him, "Hand me the clean diaper, will you? The violet one."
He dug out the correct diaper and gave it to me.
It was important for them to be part of babycare, even if it made things slower and somewhat awkward, because this was family time. As Violet was starting to wake up—wet and dirty—Dash went to her, shushing and talking softly, though it didn't help much. I had just finished getting Fiona ready and was carrying her back to her crib when Damon walked in.
He called out to the toddlers, "Come on, you two, time to go out. There are daddies waiting for you."
Dash was a bit apprehensive since he wanted to spend time with me, but he obeyed Damon and walked away, as Number Two was already waiting for them. Outside, there was an exercise course meant to calm them down.
I picked up Violet and carried her to the table, with Damon walking beside me.
He said, "Let me, you check on the boys. Daddy's gonna change his little princess and put a dress on her."
Violet was not too impressed—she was wet, cranky, hungry, and ready to wail her lungs out. But Damon acted swiftly: he got the dirty diaper off and cleaned her, which made her less irate. Then he moved on to his son, Jace, who was calmer but waking up wet as well.
I picked up Fiona, who was still awake and now hungry after being changed. Their favorite pastime seemed to be: get a clean diaper, get fed, and then get dirty again. I took a bottle from the fridge, placed it in the warming circle, and then sat down in my rocking chair to feed my little girl.
Feeding was something I was good at, and it made my heart sing. Because our bond was so strong, Damon could feel my happiness. It was such a simple thing—feeding my infant—whereas Mariella often felt cranky, tired of caring for her babies, and didn't enjoy this as much as I did.
Damon had just changed Jace, who was tired and didn't need to be fed. He gently placed his son back into the crib to sleep, smiled at him, and then came over to sit next to me. Although my rocking chair was not officially designed for two, it was a bit wide, so he managed to squeeze in anyway. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and looked over at our daughter.
"You know, Mimi, my baby," he began, "Mariella doesn't get this. For her, it's a chore. I can't feel the kind of love from her that I feel coming from you."
Meanwhile, Fiona was still feeding greedily; her warm, tiny body in my arms felt so perfect.
I turned to Damon and said, "It's funny—I always thought I was a rotten mom, that motherhood just wasn't meant for me. You know, with those miscarriages and everything, I just somehow believed I was never meant to be a mother. But now, I know I actually was meant to be one. This is just so damn perfect. Sure, it's a demanding and tiresome time, but I love doing this—it makes my heart sing."
Damon smiled and replied, "Me too, baby, me too. And I feel so good helping Sadie deal with her rage or watching the little ones try to do something while the older ones give commands. I love our family. I know I'm hardly perfect; I've made so many mistakes already, and I guess I might make more. But this—right here, right now—is perfection."
As Fiona finally finished her bottle, Damon took her from me and gently burped her. She soon fell asleep in his arms. I let him hold her a moment longer, breathing in that wonderful baby scent and seeing the real happiness in Damon's eyes as he gazed at our daughter. Then he carefully rose and carried her to the crib to sleep.
"Come on, let's go have some coffee or something—they're at least asleep now," he said, pulling me up.
As we walked toward the kitchen, he added, "You go ahead and eat. I need to check on our property taxes. Charles gave me the papers, and I just remembered they're due soon. We have some compensation because of the culvert situation, and I need to add that into the form. Oh, I hate filling out those forms."
He sounded really frustrated, and I guessed Charles might have already asked if he'd gotten them done yet. Charles could be a bit possessive from time to time. I just smiled as Damon walked to the elevator; his study was downstairs.
I went to the kitchen to get something to eat and decided to make thickened chicken soup for myself. I had plenty of cubed thighs, and our broth would be the perfect base for it. Humming to myself, I gathered my ingredients along with pots and pans.
I placed the thighs in a pan to sear with plenty of butter, then poured a good few liters of our stock into a big pot and let it heat up. To that, I added my pink rice, and some cubed potatoes as well. The onions were finely chopped, and I included a few bundles of herbs before finally adding the chicken to the mix. I put the lid on and turned the heat down to a simmer, letting it cook for about 45 minutes before thickening the soup.
A wonderful savory aroma wafted through the air; all those herbs and onions gave it a rich flavor, while the buttery, braised chicken cubes promised perfection. I planned to add salt only at the end, after tasting it.
As I was digging through the freezer for some ice cream, the smell of peaches caught my nose.
Mariella appeared and said, "Hi, what are you looking for?"
I replied, "Ice cream. I have chicken soup coming, and I just remembered I had a cream cake in here, with my lemon cake bottom and homemade ice cream in between. I just fed the babies with Damon, but he had to do some taxes—I guess Charles reminded him."
Mariella said, "Do you have enough for me? I'm famished, and chicken soup made by you sounds like heaven. And that ice cream cake—count me in."
I finally located my treat and set it on the table. It was large enough to share, so there would be plenty for the others as well. We had a smaller freezer where I could store the rest.
Her voice calm, Mariella said, "Now, I know you have your triggers, and I can't approach your stuff the way I would with Salvatores, who, by the way, are avoiding me. But anyway, let's try a different angle. Now, I want you to tell me something—a memory with you and Damon that doesn't involve his women, your work, recovery, or Damien, but a time when you were upset with him for some other reason."
Her question caught me by surprise, but I had a few memories.
I sat down and said, "Well, there was one time when I had been roughed up at a gig, and Jake was upset with me because I was so freaking fearless. He whined about it to Damon, and Damon, well, he wanted to teach me fear—or at least shake me up."
II took a breath and continued, "I was in an Oklahoma mansion at the time, just keeping to myself, when Damon came in. He was very relaxed and wanted to spend time with me. He had something special planned for us, so I took it hook, line, and sinker. He could be pretty damn naughty from time to time—not in a cruel way, but he definitely had his sense of humor. So, he took me for a ride and told me that we would experience something utterly new together. Oh, I had no idea how good he was at lying or twisting the truth."
Mariella looked at me, listening keenly. I got up, grabbed a few bottles of Coke and Jaffa, some glasses, and a bowl of chilled fruit cubes for us to munch on before my soup would be ready.
The tangy, lemony scent from the fruit cubes made my stomach almost growl. I grabbed a handful and chewed them, savoring their ice-cold perfection—the zing, zest, and bright, sparkly flavors hitting my mouth, followed by a sweet sugar rush.
My voice steady, I continued my story, "Well, we arrived at this big building, quite tall. We had driven uphill almost for miles and were now on top of a sizable hill. Damon exited the car first again and then took me inside the building. It was called 'Wild Adventures,' and he had booked us in."
I poured Jaffa into my glass and drank the refreshing orange lemonade in almost one gulp. Mariella was also chewing fruit and sipping pineapple lemonade.
I took another breath, smiling wistfully to myself. Despite the whole damn thing, those had been our good times—times I cherished because he wanted to be with me. Yet, one part of me idly wondered which version of Damon was the most surface-level.
My story went on: "Well, after Damon had logged us in, we went outside, and that's when I saw what it was—bungee jumping. You know, I have troubles with heights. Damon said we would do it together and that it would be thrilling. He was such a talker, and my ego kicked in; I could hardly back out since we were next in line. I had the impression he would be with me during the jump. They strapped me in, and Damon secured the lines for me, making sure everything was fine. And then..."
I took a little more fruit while Mariella smiled slightly, waiting for my story to reach the sweet spot.
After I had munched some apples, pears, and passionfruit, I drank a bit more Jaffa and continued, "And then he pushed me—over the edge! I swear, no one has ever screamed as much as I did. I even threw up as the cord bounced me several times. I was so freaking pissed off with him when I finally got up that I didn't say anything during the drive back. But oh no, that was not the end of it."
Mariella laughed out loud, her face almost red from having so much fun with my story.
I continued, "Well, we finally drove back to the mansion, and Damon said to me, 'Baby, let's go out for dinner, my treat. There's this new place I want to take you to.' As I said, it was a rare treat for me from him to want to take me anywhere, so once again, I didn't see his plans."
Mariella was finally calming down a bit but was still smiling.
She said, "Oh, carry on! This is funny, and my guess is this was number one—he has a sense of humor about these things."
I shrugged and went on, "Well, he got me ready; he had this silvery dress for me that was very generous. He gave me jewelry, did my hair and makeup, so I got the impression it was a rather fancy place since he wore a tuxedo too—a black and gold one. I'm not sure,did you knew this but he proposed to me for the first time in that restaurant. We had this ten-course menu, and he told me what to use and what the food was. Then, at dessert, there was a ring, and he knelt in front of the whole damn audience and proposed. Adam, Bran, Samuel, and the Originals were there too."
But back to my story. I swallowed, took more fruit cubes, and got up to check on my soup, which was starting to emanate a wonderful aroma in the kitchen. It could simmer some time yet, so I added salt and left it to thicken.
I returned to my seat and continued my story. "Well, Damon had arranged for us to have a limousine ride, and it was all very luxurious and fancy. I had no idea what he was planning. Then we arrived at this very upscale new restaurant—it had a French name, something like 'Sublime Experience of a Lifetime.' We went inside, and Damon had reserved us a table. The man who escorted us was actually English, which was a big deal for me because this was as posh an English restaurant as one could imagine, with top-notch etiquette. There were plenty of fancy English people around, and I had no clue about the proper way to eat anything."
Mariella smiled wider, and I rolled my eyes before continuing. "Then the first course arrived. It was tinier than these four cubes of orange—just one single ravioli or something, smeared with sauce, and my plate was surrounded by a lot of utensils. Damon was smirking at me while I tried to figure out which fork to use and how to eat it. Finally, he told me to cut it into small cubes, dip some sauce on each piece, chew carefully, and be quiet."
I paused, then added, "Did you know that very refined English diners don't peel a banana with their hands? Instead, you cut the top off, score it with a knife, tease it loose, then cut the banana into smaller cubes and eat very delicately. Every single course was the size of a flyshit, and as for the taste… well, there wasn't enough food to really savor."
Mariella burst out laughing again. I guess my sarcastic recounting of the event had made quite an impression on her. Well, it was past, and despite my reaction back then. It was kind of funny, I got few lessons alright.