 by Bethany Kris.jpg)
Total pages in book: 197
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Made up of outtakes and short stories written for and by request of readers, the collection contains over 170,000 words and over 100 shorts.
Readers should be familiar with The Commission World to best enjoy.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
MARCELLO
ANTONY OUTTAKES
Fathers Day of ‘93
Antony/John POV
“Shut up, Gio!”
“Knucle John says—”
“Shut up.”
Antony cracked his eyes open just enough to stare at the ceiling of his bedroom. He didn’t know if his sons were just waking up and trying to sneak past their parents’ bedrooms, or what was happening. All he knew was that once Gio learned to start talking around two years old, the kid never shut up.
Oh, God.
He loved his son.
So much.
Both his boys, really.
But Gio incessantly talked all the time. It never ended. He could talk for an hour about a certain flavor of ice cream if someone didn’t rein the kid in before he really got going. He liked to talk, and it was impossible for the boy to do anything without talking while he did it. Which made things like playing Hide and Go Seek with his brother impossible because ...
Gio never shut up.
“Papa, you up?”
In his bedroom, then. He didn’t answer Dante back right away because a part of his brain was still asleep, and he was trying to figure out why he felt like he’d just slept twelve hours. A good sleep, yes, but a long one.
That was unusual for Antony. He rarely felt this rested when he woke up. He was typically the one in their house who was up at the ass crack of dawn because work never ended as a made man. If it wasn’t one thing, then it was another.
Antony looked over in the bed to tell his wife the boys were up, but he found an empty bed staring back at him. He blinked at the spot where his wife should have been, but quickly realized something else.
The window.
And the sun.
The sun was way too high in the sky for it to be early morning. Antony darted up in the bed, and instantly reached for the alarm clock on the nightstand to check the time. Ten-fifty-five, it read.
In the morning?
“Hi, Papa!”
Antony didn’t even get to wonder why he’d slept so long or where in the hell his wife was because the next thing he knew, Gio had climbed up on the four poster bed, and launched himself from the footboard right onto his father’s lap.
And almost hit the family jewels in the process.
“Jesus Christ,” Antony grunted, laughing under his breath.
Wiggly little three-year-old Gio rolled to his back, and beamed up at his father with a bright smile that could light up anybody’s fucking life. How a person could be sad when there was a kid like Gio around, Antony would never understand.
“Ma says—”
“Not to be a shit,” Gio interrupted.
Antony pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. He was not supposed to encourage the cussing, but he found it really hard. Especially when the kid used it in the correct terms.
“She did not say shit,” Dante grumbled.
His oldest son climbed up on the bed, too, but unlike Gio, his first move was not to act like a bird that could fly across the bed and land on his father. He did get close enough to let Antony pull him into a hug.
“Where is your Ma?” Antony asked.
“Cooking,” Dante said. “Waffles—your favorite.”
Antony smiled. “Oh?”
For a moment, Antony reclined on the bed with his two boys. Dante on his right, and Gio in his lap because he couldn’t convince that kid to do anything else. Once he got his mind set on something, that’s all that would be happening.
It wasn’t very often Antony got to have moments like these. Quiet, peaceful moments first thing in the morning with his two principes because life liked to get in the way all the damn time. So, he soaked it up.
Late morning sun, white sheets, and two little boys who kept looking at him like he was king of the whole world. Someday, they’d figure out he was just a man. And not a very moral or good one at that, but a man nonetheless. Their father ... but for now, he enjoyed being the very large sun in their small world.
“And she said I don’t have to go to school,” five-year-old Dante pointed out. “Because it’s a special day.”
Antony glanced at his son from the side. “Is it?”
Fuck.
Antony’s mind scrambled to figure out what day it was. Not his anniversary, and not his wife’s birthday. Not one of the kids’, either. Not somebody important. No holidays, he was sure.
What had he missed?
“Yep,” Dante said, pushing himself off the bed using two hands. “For you, Papa. Happy Father’s Day.”
Gio flipped himself over in Antony’s lap and beamed up. “Happy Father’s Day!”
“Breakfast is ready.”
Antony found the owner of the sweet voice standing in the bedroom doorway. His wife, already dressed and ready for the day, looked like she had a secret to share. He loved her best when she looked like that. His greatest memories were pulling those secrets from his wife in a way only he could do, too.