Vow of Hell by Clara Elroy

Saint

One Year Later

“Aria,” I held the gurgling baby a safe distance away, his stench reaching my nostrils and making my eyes water. “I think it pooped again.”

The one-year-old blinked his emerald greens at me, drool pooling at the corner of his lips, feet swinging like the air had wronged him. He was a menace that never stopped crying, farting, eating, and sleeping. I didn’t understand how Eliana and Leo dealt with him on the daily. We had to babysit him for a week because Bella had chickenpox, and they didn’t want her near Matteo, and I was ready to throw in the towel from the second day in.

"Stop calling him it," Ariadne sing-songed as she bounded into our bedroom, her bright and airy mood lighting up when she saw the little squirt. Her body was spilled into a romantic fuzzy pink dress that had me drooling now and forgetting I was holding a baby like it was an atomic bomb in my hands.

I traced her every move with my eyes, unable to shake her off when we were in a room together. Her presence was magnetizing, and I hung over her soft features, willing my thoughts back to PG territory.

"He doesn't even understand what I'm saying," I said drily, and Matteo confirmed my words by smiling brightly and clapping his hands in front of him as if I was the funniest person in the world.

She rolled her eyes, picking up the grabby kid away from me. He giggled as she cooed at him. "Who's a good boy?" Aria’s nasally voice bounced off the walls, and Matteo’s eyes got moon big as he looked at her and smiled like a loon. I wondered if we had matching mesmerized expressions on our faces. "You are! Yes, you are."

"He pooped himself. That’s not good." I ruined the moment, spreading a towel on our bed which had become a temporary changing station.

"He's a baby, Saint. He doesn't have control of his bowel movements. You pooped yourself too when you were his age," she said as she lied him down.

"Whatever." I watched as she expertly cleaned him up with the wipes, even though he didn’t stop kicking his legs for a second and dropped a puff of powder on his squirming ass.

"How are you so good at this?" I walked to the side of the bed, resting my weight on a pole.

She shrugged. "I used to love watching Irena when I was younger. Would fight with my cousins for how long they got to hold her too."

"My, my, quite the dictator, Mrs. Astor." The smile on my face spread automatically as I crossed my arms.

“Fleur-Astor," she corrected haughtily.

"My mistake, I always seem to forget the first hyphen," I said, not sorry at all. It was a miracle I’d gotten her to agree to add my last name to hers anyway, so I planned on taking full advantage of it.

"It's okay, I'll keep reminding you for the rest of our lives." Aria mirrored my smile, and I almost caved and told her that was exactly what I wanted. Her fire. Some things in a marriage should remain a secret, though. "And how are you not good at this? You're eleven years older than Killian."

It was my turn to shrug as I handed her a Pampers. "We had an army of nannies that allowed me to stay away as much as possible."

She got the stretchy material over Matteo’s squirming hips, dropping a kiss to his forehead before holding him up again. "You really hate kids, huh?"

Not when they’re around you.

“I don't hate them. I just don’t particularly enjoy being around them unless they’re past the phase where they’ll spit pudding all over my face when I'm trying to feed them.” I directed the sentence at Matteo in Ariadne’s embrace, hand smashed against her tits, and for a second felt immensely jealous of a toddler until I remembered I got to sleep with her every night.

“Can you really stay mad at a face like this?” Aria rubbed her cheek on Leo's clone, letting her nose graze the wispy brown tuft on the top of his head. “Or that baby scent that fills your lungs with joy?”

They both stared at me, doe-eyed and hopeful, and because I wasn't heartless, some of the frost around my chest melted when Matteo clapped his little hands.

“Da-da!” he squealed, bouncing up and down in her grip.

“Look he called you Da-da!” Her eyes sparkled, and she didn't even complain when he clutched one of her locks in his unyielding grip.

I kicked off the bed, one arm curling around Ariadne’s hips, the other taking hold of the little guy’s fist. “He calls everyone that because it’s the only word he knows, much to Eliana’s dislike.”

“So, kids are out of the question for us?” she whispered, glancing up at me.

A tiny fist wrapped around my index finger, and I knew instantly I eventually wanted a little piece of Aria and me. The therapist I started seeing after my father’s accident and his continuous calls that led me to block his number had helped in explaining that parents, in general, had no clue what they were doing, but at the end of the day, love and understanding was all you needed to raise a healthy, happy child.

Corny—I know. But with Aria by my side, I knew we would make for some kickass parents.

Plus, our genes were too good not to pass down to future generations.

“I may not like them, but I love you, Spitfire, and will love anything that is a part of you just as much.” Her breath hitched, and I swooped down to brush my lips over hers, grinning wolfishly. “Besides, our kids are going to be smarter and cuter.”

Her head snapped back, and she held back a smile as she pressed Matteo’s head to her chest so he wouldn’t listen to my boasting. “That is so bad.”

“I choose to live life on the edge like that.”

“Really?” Her brow raised. “If I told you I wanted to get pregnant by the end of the year, what would you say?”

“That we can certainly have fun trying, challenge fate too by leaving your IUD in and see if you’re the exception to the ninety-nine percent effectiveness rate,” I drawled, and she rolled her eyes, slapping my chest. Matteo followed suit, and I leaned back laughing.

I wanted a daughter because boys were always closer to their moms.

“You make my blood boil,” she complained half-heartedly.

“You make mine rush south.” Matteo set my finger free, and I took the opportunity to attach both hands on Ari’s hips, leaning her weight on me. We stood in the middle of our room together, staring at the giggling little guy as an April shower started descending outside, the shifting winds setting the tone of my words. “I'm just kidding, baby. I would like us to have a few more years to ourselves, but we could start trying as soon as tonight if that is truly what you want."

Aria let go completely, melting her back to my front, and I held both of them, their matching expressions shining with happiness from below.

“I'm just gauging your reaction. I'm not ready for a baby, don't think I will be for at least five more years. You’re all I need for me to be happy,” she breathed, and my heart beat a little faster.

“You were always what I needed,” I confessed back, one of the most genuine things I’d ever said, pressing my lips on the crown of her head and tightening my arms, her small build sparking a blazing protectiveness inside me.

She was my light, my wife, my life, and I wouldn’t give her up for anything in the world.

The End.