Page 236 of King of Pain

I growl. Jen laughs. “Too easy.”

Ant snickers.

“On that note, I’m going to go check on Sophia and Joey.” Beau says, shaking his head.

“Babe, grab the bottles from the bar fridge?” Ant calls from the stove.

I fetch the wine, then hand Jen, Lexi and Ant glasses.

I look at the three people who helped build this life—my husband, and the two women who gave us the greatest gift.

I raise my glass. “To rewriting our history.”

Hours later—after an Italian feast, cupcakes, gifts that were unwrapped and tossed aside—the house is finally quiet. The party was a wild success—bounce house, games, lots of laughter.Ant caught me smirking at the bounce house all day, thinking about that bittersweet day.

Now the sun and the kids are down, the house is dim, and I’m putting Mary’s birthday cards on the mantle.

Ant walks up behind me, hands me an envelope. “One more.”

It’s postmarked Hawaii. I slide out the card. It’s a beach photo with two people waving.

Happy Birthday Maryis written in the sand.

I huff a laugh. Frank and Kathy. Frank in his usual Hawaiian shirt. Kathyfullydecked out.

I shake my head and set the card on the mantle.

We’re lucky—Ant and me. We’re surrounded by good people. It means more when you’ve lost most of your family. Either to loss or by choice.

My father is hopefully somewhere that’sveryhot; and Ant has warned me repeatedly that his parents were never to come near Mary or Joey, no matter what happened to him.

Our only regret is that they will not get to grow up with Ma in their life. She would have spoiled them rotten and showered them with so much love.

But we’re fortunate because our kids will know the love of the people that haveearneda place in their lives. Our chosen family.

Frank and Kathy insisted we come stay with them in Hawaii at least twice a year, and they come visit often to spend time with their surrogate grandchildren. They’ve provided Mary and Joey with the grandparents they otherwise would not have had the joy of experiencing. Grateful does not begin to cover what that means to us.

I look at the photos sitting on our mantle: Jen with me in a headlock at Devil Records, Ant and Butters after a game, all of us at Lexi and Beau’s wedding. Guinness with the kids. The sunset photo from our wedding where I’m holding Ant’s face and kissing him tenderly.

Fuck, I love that man.

Then there's the framed photo of Ma that Ant had inscribed with one word: 'Grandma'. He angled it next to a framed photo of Mary and Joey—so she could look at their angelic faces.

He said he’s going to have the kids do a photo together every year to update the framed one… so Ma could watch her grand babies grow up.

There are so many reasons I married Anthony Pacini, but his heart will always and forever top that list.

My fingers trace down below the mantle to the shelves of vinyl records below it. I flip through until I find what I’m looking for.

Bingo!

“Hey, Ant,” I call as he’s coming out of the kitchen.

He looks over and I hold up George Michael’s“I Want Your Sex.”

Ant’s eyes blaze and he stalks toward me.

He grabs my hand. “Let’s go.”