Page 60 of The Burdens We Share (Satan’s Angels #3)
Ivory
Eight years later
I plate the last of the dishes I fully intend to lie and say were homemade before washing my hands of pasta sauce.
Eight years may have passed, but there will never come a day when Ivory Aslan cooks for two reasons.
The first is because I fucking suck at it so bad that Dallas actually requested I never step foot in the kitchen, and the second is because well…
I don’t want to. I’m a rockstar, not Martha Stewart.
The doorbell rings and I shout over my shoulder, “Babe! They’re here!
” I drop the dishrag next to the sink and hurry to answer the incessant banging on the door.
The only downside of Dallas and I moving onto the same street as Brody, Harvey, Aria, and Slater is that we constantly have company, even when we don’t want it.
Who am I kidding? I always want it. Dallas on the other hand would much prefer if our very limited alone time after having kids wouldn’t be interrupted.
Selene even moved to our street with her family and she claims it’s because the property was a good investment, but we all know it’s because she got a bad case of FOMO.
The knocking does not stop and I shake my head as I unlock and open the door.
I look down to find a tiny little girl with platinum blonde hair and eyes as deep blue as the ocean.
Her hair is a mess of waves and hangs past her shoulders.
She wears a frilly white top with red leggings and I grin at my niece.
“Hello, Danica. I heard you knocking the first ten minutes you were doing it.”
She shrugs, “I know.” Of course she does.
Brody and Harvey’s daughter is exactly like her mother in more ways than just one.
She inherited Brody’s looks for sure, from the wavy blonde locks to her blushing cheeks and gorgeous blues, but she also inherited her mother’s affinity for troublemaking.
I swear when I look at her it’s like I’m looking at a tiny version of Brody. Harvey definitely has his hands full.
I bend down and wrap her in a hug which she returns before she darts past me and inside the house.
Brody and Harvey are behind her, hand in hand and each hug me hello.
Brody and Harvey had Danica, their only child, about a year after their wedding and their little seven year old has kept their hands so full that they never mentioned having a second.
Harvey closes the door behind them and leaves it unlocked the way we usually do on Sundays when each of us hosts family dinner and Brody sighs, “This girl is full of energy today.”
“Oh boy,” I raise my brows dramatically. We all know what that means. Something is bound to get broken in my house.
Brody shoots Harvey an annoyed look, “Because someone’s daddy can’t say no to her when she asks for candy.”
Harvey smirks at his wife and wraps his arm around her shoulders, “Little Rockstar, I find it nearly impossible to say no to you. Our daughter is no different.”
I laugh at Harvey’s response. He was never much of a warm or friendly person, but being a father definitely softened him a bit.
Don’t get me wrong, he’s still hard around the edges and I sometimes question whether or not he even has a soul, but when his wife, daughter, or sister enter the room, my question dies.
We’ve even grown pretty close over the years and I would call him a good friend now. Family even.
We make it to the dining room just as my handsome husband descends the stairs in one of his perfectly tailored suits.
He wears them even to the most casual occasions and I’m definitely not complaining.
His jaw is hard until his eyes land on me and then they soften as he smirks at me and greets Brody and Harvey. “Where’s my niece?” He asks Brody.
Brody rolls her eyes and laughs, “Probably destroying your house somewhere.”
Dallas chuckles and the front door closing suddenly steals our attention. Footsteps pad down the hall and into the dining room just as Aria and Slater appear with their two kiddos in tow. “Hi!” Carrie greets, excitement in her eyes. She loves family time and it’s so heartwarming.
She rushes over and starts hugging all of us and I just melt in her little arms. Aria and Sly had her a couple of months after Brody and Harvey had Danica.
The two little girls are the closest of friends.
Where Danica inherited her mother’s traits, Carrie inherited more of Sly’s traits.
She looks strikingly like Aria, from her auburn hair to her creamy skin, but her eyes are sky blue like her father’s, and her personality is just as sweet as his too.
It’s ironic really that they named her after Carrie from the horror movie, only for her to be such a sweet pea.
Cole, who was named after the Sixth Sense movie, rushes over to hug everyone the way his big sister did. The little five-year-old has the cutest cheeks and is a complete spitting image of his father from his hair to his skin and eyes. “Where’s Dani, Austin, and Houston?” He asks.
“They’re all probably in the playroom,” I nod towards the stairs and Carrie and Cole are off in an instant.
Aria and Sly greet us and Sly sidles up to Harvey, “I think my son has a crush on your daughter.”
Harvey whips his head so fast at Sly that I’m surprised it doesn’t snap clean off, “Do you want me to have a heart attack?”
Brody laughs and I chuckle, “She’ll have to start dating one day, Harvey.”
He shoots me the iciest glare. “Over my dead fucking body. I will have every boy who ever looks at my daughter abducted and hauled off in a white van never to be seen or heard from again.”
The room explodes in laughter, but Harvey is most certainly not laughing. Instead, he’s rubbing a spot on his chest, and a moment later, the attention shifts to the door closing again.
I hear little giggles coming closer and smile in anticipation.
Selene enters with her husband, Dylan, and her three little girls.
Justine, whose name quite literally means justice, comes into view first and quickly makes work of saying hello to everyone so she can go join the other kiddos.
She’s the little stinker Selene was pregnant with eight years ago and her daughter has easily taken up the role of mediator and sometimes lawyer when it comes to defending Danica’s crimes or fixing any disputes Carrie and Danica have over toys or whatever else it is kids fight over.
Next comes Veda who is named after wisdom and knowledge and then Arabella who is named after the first-ever female lawyer.
Selene clearly stuck to a theme with her baby names.
All three little girls have the same curly brunette coils as Selene with her deep brown eyes and their father’s tan skin. They’re adorable.
“Where’s everyone?” Veda asks.
I tilt my head at the six-year-old, “Upstairs playing, but can you do me the biggest favor and tell them all to come down? We’re gonna eat dinner.”
Veda rushes upstairs with her big sister and little sister in tow. Selene sighs, “Remind me why I wanted three? You would think I’d learn the first two times how horrible the toddler stage is.”
Arabella is only three and she’s the cutest, but she definitely keeps Selene busy. I boast, “I am not experiencing any of that with Houston.”
A stampede enters the room moments later and all eight of the kids come into view, taking their seats at the kid’s side of the table.
Dallas sits at the head and I sit beside him.
A small tap lands on my arm and I look down to find our oldest son, Austin, who’s five. “Hey, baby. You okay?” I ask him.
He nods at me, his thick brown hair in his hazel brown eyes that resemble his father’s so much. He doesn’t say anything and just looks anxious. Dallas leans closer to us, “What’s going on?”
I look down at our son, “I don’t know. What is it?” I ask him gently.
Austin plays with his fingers before he steps on his toes and whispers in my ear, “I’m gonna ask Veda to marry me.”
I choke on my own saliva and Dallas bursts out in laughter, having heard the whole thing.
Our son turns and looks at his father who’s hysterical and I shoot him a warning look.
Dallas quickly stops laughing before he leans down to scoop up our firstborn.
“You’re a little too young for that right now. Give it twenty years.”
“Twenty? That’s like forever!” Austin protests.
A tugging of my shirt draws my attention to Houston, our little three-year-old who looks nearly identical to his big brother. “Mommy,” he pulls my shirt.
“Yes, my love?” I ask him, scotting my chair back to sweep him off the ground and squeeze him in a hug.
He hugs me back, “Can I have more apple juice?”
“Sure. Go get your cup, baby.” He quickly slips off my lap and back to his seat to grab his cup as Dallas ushers Austin back to his and instructs him to not propose to anyone until he’s twenty-five at the very least to spare his mother from going gray prematurely.
We enjoy the meal I most certainly did not cook and the room is so chaotic and loud, so us. We’re one big ass family and we wouldn’t have it any other way. It took us a lot to get here, from stalkers to sex tapes, to addictions, to really shitty modeling agents, but here we are.
Oh, and speaking of Nara, Selene ruined her career so badly that the woman can never show her face in LA again. Last I heard, she moved to Calabasas and married a super old and crusty-looking director. Sounds about right and like karma worked her magic.