~Amara.Two years later.I leaned over the stainless-steel counter of my small but handy kitchen, my hands busy kneading dough to make pancakes in time for the restaurant's evening rush while the redhead twins—my little miracles, my pride—chattered about school. Their laughter was light and pure. It was the most pleasing sound I'd heard for the last two years of my life, and I wouldn't trade it for the world."Mommy! Look what I drew!" Lucia yelled, waving up a sheet of paper with crayons.I smiled, wiping my flour-dusted hands on my apron and surveyed her comic drawing of her, myself, and her brother holding hands. "Those are amazing, baby. Just keep it up, and you'll earn an A from your teacher," I cooed and spotted my son, Luca, making it to the top of the kitchen stool to shoot a mystery make-believe alien with his automatic pistol—from the corner of my eyes."Get down from there, Luca!!" I ordered sharply, and he pouted and sat back down on the stool.Luca and Lucia were Nero's c
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