Lucian & Jordyn
December 5th
“John,” Jordyn said, hitting her oldest child’s door with a closed fist, “it’s time to get up for school, come on.”
Only grumbles answered her back. She checked the doorknob, but already knew what she would find. It was locked, effectively keeping her out.
“Christ, Lucian, you just had to give him a damn lock.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Jordyn regretted them. Mostly, because her husband wasn’t actually there for her to say them to. Lucian was still serving out his sentence, with another three months to go.
God, she missed him.
Every day.
Every night.
First thing on her mind in the morning, and the last at night.
Next to their three kids, of course.
Speaking of kids …
“John, get up!”
Jordyn banged a little harder.
Still, she didn’t hear the telltale sounds of her son. If at his age, John was already giving his parents hell, she could only imagine what it was going to be like in a few short years when he was a teenager. Her son was all kinds of difficult.
God save their souls.
She loved John.
Adored him.
She could still admit that out of their kids, he was the most difficult.
Putting it mildly.
The phone started ringing, making Jordyn cuss under her breath. They were already running late for school as it was, and she had two other kids to get out of bed and dressed. Liliana for kindergarten, and Cella, for pre-school.
This was not going well.
“John, two minutes and you better be up!”
That was the last warning she was giving her son before she broke his damn door down. Momma didn’t play. Not when Dad wasn’t around to help her keep their son in line.
The girls on the other hand?
They were far easier.
Jordyn darted down the hall to the master bedroom in order to catch the ringing phone before it sent the call to voicemail. There were very few people who would call their home this early, and the ones that would, she would answer. Their calls were important.
Family was always important. All her years with the Marcellos—as a Marcello—had taught her that lesson.
“Cella, Liliana, time to get up!” Jordyn shouted as she passed their rooms. “Right now, girls, up!”
She didn’t wait to hear if her girls answered her back. Sliding into the master bedroom, Jordyn snatched the cordless phone off the hook on the fourth ring, thankfully.
“Hello?” she asked, out of breath.
“Hey, bella.”
Instantly, all the worries Jordyn felt slipped out the window just like that. She no longer cared that she was thirty minutes behind. She didn’t mind that her son was being extra difficult likely because he missed his father. She didn’t give a shit that she needed to clean the bathrooms, change everybody’s sheets, and make it into the art gallery to set up for a showing.
Not one single bit of that mattered.
Not when she heard Lucian’s voice.
“How’s your morning going?” her husband asked.
“Better now.”
“Oh?”
“It’s always better when you call, Lucian.”
She could hear his smile when he murmured, “Same, amore.”
“You got your call earlier today, huh?”
“Figured I might as well take it. I didn’t enjoy talking to the voicemail yesterday. It’s not as good as talking to you.”
“Agreed,” Jordyn said, sitting down on the edge of their bed. “Something came up at Cella’s pre-school. She swallowed her drink down the wrong hole, coughed her guts out, and then puked all over the place.”
“She’s not actually sick, though, right?”
“No, it’s just their stupid policies. The second a kid gets sick, they send them home. I ran out to pick her up when you called. Sorry, Lucian.”
“It’s all right. She up right now?”
Jordyn listened for their daughters. The tiny pattering of feet in the hallway said that yes, they were awake and moving around, but not yet ready to make their way into their parents’ bedroom.
“Just got up,” she said. “Just a sec, Lucian.”
Pulling the phone away, she put her hand over the receiver and shouted for the girls to come see her when they were done.
“Kay, Ma!” Liliana called back.
Jordyn fell back on their bed as she put the phone to her ear once more. She hated how cold and empty it was without him. She couldn’t wait until he was back home with her and their children. Stupid circumstances and charges that he couldn’t escape took him away from them. It killed her, but she said nothing. She didn’t blame Lucian, though she probably could. He would likely take it, too.
Truth was, Jordyn understood their life. She knew exactly what she signed up for when she married her husband. Their life and freedom was not guaranteed. Her husband, his brothers, and the rest of their family were all criminals. Sometimes, jail and prison were likely scenarios. Her fear walked hand in hand with her respect.
It was what it was.
She would not fault Lucian for choices she made.
And she loved him.
Oh, she loved him.
“How’s my boy doing this week?” Lucian asked.
Jordyn scoffed under her breath. “Same.”
That was a lie.
John was worse than last week.
She didn’t want Lucian to worry.
“He up?”
“In the shower,” she lied.
He had far better things to mull over while in jail other than their son’s concerning behavior. They would deal with it together when Lucian was out.
“Here come the girls,” Jordyn said as a stampede of footsteps echoed down the hall.
Jordyn barely got the words out of her mouth before the girls barreled into the bedroom. They saw their mother on the phone, she hit the speaker button, and their squeals lit up the whole place.
Especially when Lucian said, “Mia principessas!”
“Daddy!”
“Dad-day!”
Liliana and Cella clambered onto the bed. The eldest snatched the phone from her mother, while the youngest crawled up Jordyn’s back.
“Hi, Daddy,” Liliana said. “Santa’s coming in twenty days!”
“Is he?” Lucian asked.
“Santa!” their three-year-old mocked.
“I wrote my letter to him yesterday at school,” Liliana said seriously.
“What did you ask for, ragazza?”
Liliana started listing off the lengthy list that she had brought home to Jordyn the day before covered in markers, sparkles, and Santa stickers. A dollhouse. Those ugly, big-headed dolls with the crazy hair. Some kind of animal that came out of an egg. Clothes. Shoes.
And then, “And you, Daddy.”
Jordyn stilled as her gaze darted to her eldest daughter. Lucian quieted on the phone.
“Santa will bring you home, won’t he?” Liliana asked.
Lucian blew out a soft breath. “I don’t know, Lily. We’re … I’m awfully far away, sweetheart, and Santa has so many other kids to deliver presents to. Plus, we’re very lucky, remember? Not like some other people, who are not as lucky, and don’t get as many presents as you do. So, maybe this year, we’ll go easy on Santa and not expect as much. So, then he has more time for those who are not as lucky.”
Liliana frowned, and Jordyn swore she saw tears well in her daughter’s eyes, but softly, she said, “Okay, Daddy.”
“Dad-day!” Cella mocked.
Lucian chuckled. “Okay, give the phone back to, Ma, girls.”
Without question, Liliana handed the phone back.
“Go get your clothes on,” Jordyn told her. “I’ll be down to get breakfast ready in a minute.”
Liliana went, but Cella stayed behind. Jordyn didn’t mind. She tucked her littlest toddler under her arm, and headed out of the bedroom as she stuck the phone between her ear and shoulder.
“Okay, that was a little sad,” Jordyn muttered into the phone.
“A little, yeah. Sorry, bella.”
“Not your fault.”
“Kind of.”
“Let’s not do that, Lucian.”
“Hey, that’s Dad?”
Jordyn spun on her heels to see her son had finally come out of his room.
Thank God.
John, in all his hazel-eyed, messy-haired glory, stood in the hallway looking like getting out of bed was the last thing he wanted to do. God, he looked like his father. All over. From head to toe. He was already too tall, and getting taller. Already handsome, and puberty hadn’t even stepped in to fill him out and roughen him up.
“It is. Do you want to talk to him?” Jordyn asked.
“I only have five more minutes, Jordyn.”
That was fine.
More than fine.
A chat with Lucian would do John wonders.
“It’s all right,” she told her husband. “We have tomorrow.”
“All right. Give me to my boy.”
She handed the phone over to John, and then he darted back into the safe darkness of his bedroom. Over her shoulder, she called, “Make sure you’re dressed before you hang up that phone, John.”
“Got it, Ma.”
Yep.
Already better.