The Conspiracy of Baby-Switching novel Chapter 37

“Don’t be rude, Dominic,” I snap.

Lucy’s eyes widen as she looks between the two of them.

“Cerca di mostrare un po’ di rispetto a tua madre. Questa è casa sua,”

Gabriel says. (“Show some respect to your mother at her dinner table.”) “No,” Dominic says.

“Parlami in italiano,” Gabriel fires back. (“You speak to me in Italian.”) “No.” Dominic gets up and marches upstairs.

“Torna subito qui,” Gabriel calls after him. (“You come back here right now.”)

“No.”

The table falls silent and Lucy stares after him before she finally continues to eat.

Gabriel puts his fork down and I gesture to his bowl. “You need to eat it all.”

“I want to live.”

I exhale heavily, that was a disaster. I should have put arsenic in his food and put us all out of misery.

“Eat. The food.” I smile through gritted teeth. “Don’t make me force-feed you…because…I will.”

Gabriel glares at me and eventually picks up his fork.

My god, that couldn’t have gone worse. Dom is a handful, sometimes too much for even me.

“Lucy, why don’t you take Dom’s dinner up to him.”

“Okay.” Lucy grabs her brother’s bowl and toddles off upstairs.

I wait until she is out of ears’ reach. “What did you say to him in Italian?”

“He was being rude, so I pulled him into line.”

“What?” I screw up my face. “You do not get to pull him into line on the first day of being a father.”

“He doesn’t get to be rude to me on the first day of being my son. Not on day one, not ever. He needs to learn straight away that bad behavior will not be tolerated.”

I slump back into my chair and look around the empty table. “Eat your food.”

“I’m getting you a cook.”

“Why?”

“Because no wonder he’s in a bad mood. The poor bastard is being poisoned to death.” He stirs the food in his bowl. “And for the record, you cut the fucking onions up. Not throw them in whole.”

I glance down at the eyeball pickled onions in his spaghetti and I get the giggles.

“There is nothing funny about your cooking, Violet.”

“Kind of.”

“Not at all,” he snaps.

“Well, you need to eat what I cook the children; it tells them that you are like them.”

“If they like this…” He gestures to his plate as he searches for the right word. “Then we are nothing alike.” He puts his head into his hands and exhales heavily in disappointment.

I watch him for a moment. He really is feeling so out of his depth here.

Empathy fills me.

“Dominic is strong-willed.”

He sits for a moment as if processing my words. “I wanted tonight to be nice so that they would remember me fondly.”

“Well, in that case…don’t be yourself.”

“What?” He screws up his face. “That’s your advice, don’t be myself?”

“You’re a rude pig. If you want them to like you, act nice.”

“I am not a rude pig.”

“Oh yes you are. And for the record, Dominic is the carbon copy of you and will not back down, he’s a lot to handle. If you want his respect, you have to earn it.”

“Well, that works both ways.”

“No. Don’t you dare pull that card.”

He stays silent and Lucy comes bouncing back to the table, she sits down and continues to eat.

Gabriel watches her for a while as if having an out-of-body experience.

“Where will I be sleeping?” Gabriel asks.

“Did Gabriel upset you?”

“Nope,” he says, he keeps playing as he acts uninterested.

“What did he say to you in Italian?” I ask.

“Nothing much.”

I sit beside him for a moment and I don’t want to make this more dramatic than it needs to be, this has to be in his time, not mine. “Is it okay if

I sleep in here with you tonight on the trundle bed?” “Yeah, all right.” He keeps playing.

Damn it, this is getting me nowhere and I have to clean my room for Gabriel.

“I’ll be back soon, bubba.”

He nods and keeps playing the stupid game.

I rush into my bedroom and look around at the chaos. Ahhh… Why aren’t I a housewife superstar, it would be so much more convenient at times like this.

I stuff my washing into the clothes hamper, I gather up some clothes that are hanging over the chair in the corner of the room and throw them onto the top shelf of my wardrobe.

I run my eyes over the contents of the wardrobe, unorganized and disorderly.

Oh man, if he looks in there, I’m totally screwed.

Ugh, I don’t have time to worry about that now. I slam the door shut.

I pull the covers back on my bed. I should change the sheets.

Damn it, I only changed the sheets yesterday and my other set of sheets is still on the line.

Shit.

These sheets will have to do.

I remake the bed and straighten up the cushions, oh crap, can’t forget that…I rustle through my bedside drawer for my vibrator and stuff it into the basket of washing and hide it with some clothes.

I do a quick clean of my dressing table and throw my makeup into my top drawer as I look around the bedroom, what else… have I missed anything?

Is there anything in here that is too personal for him to see?

Who am I kidding, it’s my bedroom, everything is personal.