Page 50 of A Seed Of Peril
“I wanna go again but notthatsoon,” I bantered.
Kissing my head, Dominic moved his hand up to the small of my back. His other hand banded around my belly. Looking over at him, I caught him staring at my belly, awe in his blues as our baby boy kicked and stirred. The wonderment in his smile reached his eyes.
I thought of the threat to our family. I replayed the moment I learned the DiSantis weren’t fully erased. Those who ignored the past were doomed to repeat it, and something in my gut told me Hector still had plenty of skeletons in his past. Skeletons crazier than Fabio. Slicker and more resourceful than Vincent.
We weren’t done combing through history that had been left hidden. Not even close.
“We can’t lose you, Dominic.” My throat tightened as I choked on the words, suppressing any sign of the fresh tears racing toward my eyes. “There has to be something we’re not seeing. Something else Hector kept hidden.” I swallowed, waiting a beat. “I feel it.”
Dominic lifted his head, holding a confident stare, the amazement in his features gone and replaced with the features of a man ready and willing to burn the world to ash for his family. He settled his fingers under my chin, grazing the pad of his thumb in a pattern along the skin of my jaw. I captured his wrist in my hand, rubbing it and part of his hand.
“We’ll bring it all together, and then, we’ll bring it all down.”
Sunday, February 12, 2017
It was five A.M.,and while I missed the feel of my bed and sleep, I stood in the kitchen at the island stirring pink cake batter in a mixing bowl, determined to give Katrina the best damn homemade birthday cake possible. It was her first homemade birthday cake, after all.
I stirred angrily as her heartbreaking admission from last night stuck with me.
“She never made me one. I had those gross ones from the store.”
“Does she not know how to bake?”
Katrina shrugged. “She had better things to do.”
“Did she tell you that?”
She nodded.
I understood that sometimes, parents didn’t have the energy to slave away in the kitchen for a birthday or two, or they didn’t know how to bake, but not giving your child something as simple and special as a homemade cake, even if from a box, because it was inconvenient… I considered that lazy. Then again, it seemed as if Maria only went above and beyond for her daughter when it madeherselflook good.
Shaking my head, I set the bowl down and went over to the oven, selecting the temperature to preheat the oven. I walked back over to the island and started preparing the cake pans with parchment paper.
Katrina wanted a pink cake with chocolate frosting. So, I whipped up a simple recipe for white cake and added pink food coloring. Once it was in the oven I planned to make the chocolate frosting, and while stacking the layers after they cooled, I had strawberry jam in the fridge to spread over each layer. I wasn’t the best at writing anything with frosting, but I doubted Katrina would have cared if the words “Happy Birthday” were neat or messy. This cake was specifically for her to eat. Dominic ordered a huge sheet cake for the rest of us to indulge on at the party.
Her party… Admittedly, I was nervous. We rented out a dining hall. Along with our family and the spouses and children of some of its men, the Baldomero and Maccarone families were attending, along with included spouses and children. It wasn’t necessarily safety that I was worried about, although with Nico still on the loose, safety was a constant concern.
I hadn’t met these families yet.Would they like me? Were they nice? Would they accept me?Oh, God, I hoped I didn’t accidentally make a fool of myself somehow. That was all I needed… To appear inept. I didn’t want to let Katrina down, either. Her party had to go off without a hitch. It had to be perfect. I would make it perfect for her. I had to.
The oven beeped, letting me know it was time to put the pans in. I finished emptying the batter, jiggled the pans a little to help even out the batter and combat the air bubbles, and went ahead and slid them into the oven. I closed the oven door and set the timer for forty-five minutes. I began cleaning off the island and counters and putting the ingredients back to their respective cupboards. Leaning against the counter by the oven, I scooped some of the leftover batter along the inside of the bowl and enjoyed a taste. I technically wasn’t supposed to eat raw batter, but sometimes, the temptation was too great. Oops.
My son moved around with each bite. He enjoyed it, too. He always kicked and moved with more pep when I ate certain foods like meats and his daddy’s cooking. Dominic’s homemade oatmeal was one of our favorites.
The front door opened and closed, making me pause. Then, I remembered Dino went for a run. He must’ve returned.
“Dino?” I called out, waiting.
Footsteps drew nearer, squeaking with each step.
Appearing at the kitchen’s threshold, his matching gray hooded sweatshirt and sweatpants dampened from the rain, Dino slipped off the hood and wiped his face with his sleeve, strolling into the kitchen.
“What’s up?” he asked.
I held out the mixing bowl for him, raising my brows. He made a beeline for it. I laughed as he dug right in and salvaged what he could of the batter.
“The fuck are you doing up at the crack ass of dawn?”
My laughter tapering off, I went ahead and gathered what I needed to make the frosting. “I’m doing what Maria was too lazy to do.” I began measuring the amount of butter I needed, catching sight of Dino pulling together his brows. “She couldn’t be bothered to bake Katrina a cake.”