Little G. - An Andino + Haven Outtake
Little G – Andino + Haven: An Outtake
*this outtake is mostly unedited and in raw form. Don’t copy or distribute my work, it’s mine.
Haven’s head lifted from her work at the kitchen’s island. Those blue eyes of hers nailed into Andino where he stood in the arched entryway of the room, half in the process of shrugging on his favorite navy blazer.
“Are you seriously going to sneak out of here without even a proper good morning?” his wife asked.
He at least had the decency to look ashamed of himself, but Andino couldn’t say much more about it. “I’m already running late, babe.”
Haven arched a brow. “Seriously?”
“You let me sleep in—didn’t even get me up to get the girls off to school.”
Not that he didn’t appreciate it, because he did—as many kids as they had, every morning could be a goddamn nightmare. Somehow, though, Haven managed to wrangle all their daughters off to school without waking him up. Instead, the small knee of his son that landed a little too close to the family jewels became his alarm clock. Probably not long after Haven got back from getting the girls off to school.
That also meant he was late.
A boss was never late.
Everyone else was always early.
Except Andino had a lot of business happening in the city—an uptick in certain areas of la famiglias dealings that required more of his immediate attention. The shit had been dragging him away from home earlier and earlier, and keeping him away later and later.
Haven knew it was part of their life, yeah. She rarely complained, although she never hid when she was unhappy with something, either. It at least allowed Andino the chance to correct whatever his wife felt was wrong before it got worse. He still made it his first and last effort every day to keep the mafia’s business from affecting what went on within the four walls of his family’s home.
She liked it that way.
What more could he say?
“I let you sleep in,” Haven shot back, the tiny smile curving her lips telling him the truth. She wasn’t all that mad that he was slipping out of the house without as much as a good morning—or a thank you—after the night before. “And I even fucked you last night, too. And you can’t take three seconds to kiss me good morning before you leave? Asshole.”
He couldn’t help it.
Except his laugh came out dark and husky because if she thought he forgot last night for a second—his wife was deadass wrong. Andino took a few quick steps into the large kitchen—they’d renovated it six months ago, going from a country-style to something more clean and modern now that their kids were getting a bit older and understood to leave shit alone.
He was still working with little G.
The boy was wild—fearless to an extreme, and he respected the free soul his son was too much to try and tamper the kid’s behaviors and moods.
Andino loved it.
“You know how much I like when you wait up for me, babe,” Andino said, still crossing the kitchen.
Haven had turned a bit to the side, now watching him approach the island from the corner of her eye. That grin of hers curved a little more—sweet to sexy in a damn blink. “Even when you say not to.”
“And wear lace.”
She flashed her teeth in a smile that time, replying, “Under silk.”
Andino couldn’t help his grunt of approval when his hands landed to the edge of the marble countertop on the island. Leaving over the pristine white, he found the side of his wife’s soft cheek while his hair swept her hair out of the way of her throat. Then, his thumb had better access to sweep over the tattoo behind her ear. The shiver that answered his action back only had him smirking when she turned her head just enough to catch his mouth with her own.
That quick kiss turned into something far more sinful before he had time to consider it. Her tongue teased his mouth open before daring to flick inside and back out before his could tangle with hers.
“Mean,” he muttered when she pulled away.
“Or giving you something to get back faster for,” she shot back.
He didn’t need reminders.
“Good morning,” he added, winking as he took a step back from the island. “See, I didn’t sneak out without doing it.”
“You considered it.”
Only a little.
He had catching up to do.
Haven still needed to come first, though.
“Promise I won’t,” he said, her narrowing gaze making him add quickly, “try again.”
That had Haven’s grin growing all over again. She stuck her tongue out at him, before handing over a jam and cream cheese bagel half wrapped in wax paper. He hadn’t even noticed the food sitting on a plate on the counter.
Haven had a way of distracting him.
“Eat something on your way,” she said, “that actually came from your house.”
One more kiss to his wife’s lips, and Andino headed back out of the kitchen. He was just rounding the entry stairs to exit through the front door where he’d left his Bentley parked the night before when the familiar whoops of his son echoed from the upstairs.
Then, a loud, “Wait for me, Papa! I’m coming, too!”
He didn’t have to wait long to find out what Giovanni Andino was up to. Little G came down the staircase as fast as his legs could take him, already dressed in a pair of black jeans and the white t-shirt his mother had dressed him in that morning. The same outfit he’d woken his father up wearing. But now, he was pulling on one of his newest suit jackets that Haven had gotten Andino’s tailor to make for the boy for church.
Growing spurts didn’t stop.
Gio went through clothes like crazy.
“I’m coming, too!” little G said, his hand sliding down the banister as his two feet managed to sound like a whole herd of elephants coming down the stairs. “I do business with you, too, Papa. Right?”
Bemusement colored up Andino—the sight of his only son dressed up like his father, wanting to do business like he had any clue about that shit. He didn’t—wouldn’t for a while, yet. Hopefully for as long as Andino could reasonably manage to keep it that way. Forever wasn’t an option, but he distinctly remembered the weird lines that had been drawn around the fathers and sons he knew when Cosa Nostra came into their lives as a permanent pillar.
Fuck him for not wanting his relationship with his own son to change, yet.
Even if Gio was only four.
“I can come with you, Papa, right?” little G asked, coming to a stop at the bottom of the stairs.
Just beyond, where he had come from the kitchen, Haven came to stand in the entry, watching him. Waiting, he knew, to see what he would say.
The problem was hard.
The answer was still easy.
“Get your shoes, little man,” Andino told his son, his large hand reaching out to snag little G at the scruff of his neck to pull him closer to his father. Instantly, a happy Gio smiled up at him, hugging his hip and wrapping his legs around his father’s left one like a fucking monkey.
“Yes!” Gio shouted.
He glanced Haven’s way even as he headed for the line of shoes stacked neatly on their shelves by the coatroom. “Can’t tell him no, can I? Then, he’s already going to be sad about it.”
He just couldn’t take that.
People could call Andino a lot of things, but a monster wasn’t one of them. All it took was the simple sadness of his kids to turn him into a groveling mat of a human being.
He was fine with that.