Mia dragged her weary bones home late that evening, only to find her husband, Andre, propped up against the headboard, engrossed in his latest thriller. Beside him, their little bundle of joy, Henry, was snoring softly.
Andre glanced up as she entered, gave a small nod, and returned his focus to his book.
Mia bit her lip, then scampered around the bed to her side, kneeling down to plant a gentle kiss on Henry's chubby cheek.
"Wake him with a kiss, and none of us will get any sleep," Andre remarked without looking up.
Mia, squeezing Henry’s cheek with mock severity, retorted, "If we hadn’t tied the knot, where would we get such a cute little munchkin?"
Andre pretended not to hear.
Young mothers and their sons—it’s all about cuddles and play. Who could resist that soft, tender face just begging to be squeezed?
But when Henry started to cry, Mia’s eyes darted helplessly towards Andre.
Her son had indeed been roused to tears by her affection.
Andre just sighed.
And so, that night, the couple took turns consoling their fussy little man.
The next morning, Grandpa Hansen left the house early, despite being one of the last to bed and the first to rise. He spent the evening sneaking off to the memory room dedicated to his late wife, barely interacting with anyone.
The urgency from the Gordon family was palpable, and Leo didn't waste much time. He helped Anya pack a few essentials and picked out an SUV from the garage to drive her over.
Before leaving, Anya clung to baby Henry, showering him in reluctant kisses.
Henry seemed unimpressed; lacking any power to resist, he could only babble in protest.
Leo was pulled aside by a conspiratorial Hansen who whispered, "That night, were you just trying to get a rise out of me, or do you really intend to marry Anya?"
Leo just smirked, "Take a wild guess."
Hansen was left fuming.
Leo got a whipping from Grandpa, and nobody knew why.
Anya, reluctant to part with little Henry, turned to Mia with a fanciful request, "Auntie, why don’t you come over for Christmas? You can bring Henry, and we have a big mansion for you to stay in."
Mia, ever the pragmatist, replied warmly, "Sweetheart, maybe next year. This year, I’ve got to take Henry and make some holiday cash."
Molly reminded her, "Next year, Henry will get his own Christmas gifts."
Mia fell silent.
The little guy was all bundled up in a tiger-striped hat, a red scarf wrapped around his neck, cooing and babbling.
Andre placed the Cedillo family’s gifts in the back of Leo’s SUV and advised his nephew, "Drive safe, stop at rest areas to stretch your legs. No fatigued driving—safety first."
"Got it, Uncle," Leo responded.
Naomi added her own piece of advice, "Mind your manners at the Gordons', and make a good impression. Remember: keep your mouth shut!"
Leo nodded, "Sure."
Mia and Molly whispered conspiratorially in the corner.
"Mia, when Anya visits, it's a family celebration. When Chad comes, it's just me cheering. Anya leaves, and we all miss her. When Chad leaves, I'm the only one who's sad."
Mia nodded in agreement.
As departure time approached, Anya finally handed Henry back to Andre, the little guy finally free from the endless cuddling.
Leo's car had been idling for a while as Anya lingered, her gaze fixed on Henry, content in his father's arms.
Leo couldn’t help but quip, "Enough staring. If you want a brother that badly, go home and have your parents make you one."
The Cedillo family collectively rolled their eyes.
Anya frowned, "Chad, my mom's forty."
Leo gestured towards Hansen, "Forty's nothing. His wife had a daughter at fifty-plus."
The daughter in question, Marissa, grimaced.
Hansen, infuriated, raised his cane, "I'll tan your hide, you little brat."
His outburst was intercepted by his eldest son, "Dad, calm down, please."
Naomi couldn't help but walk over and thump her son on the back.
She chided him, "Can't you control that mouth of yours?"
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