Under Her Wing

Chaper 166

Danielle POV

*the next morning*

The sunlight peeked through the curtains, and I stirred, squinting against the brightness. Amalia was sprawled across my chest, her little body warm and heavy as she clung to me like a koala. She was half-asleep, her hair tickling my chin, her breath soft and even.

I sighed, running my fingers lightly over her back. "Morning, baby girl," I murmured, my voice still scratchy with sleep.

Her response was barely audible—a small hum as she shifted closer, pressing her face into me.

I chuckled softly, brushing a kiss against the top of her head. "You know we have to get up, right? Stefania's already awake, probably answering emails and getting our full Europe itinerary planned out."

"That sounds more like you," Amalia mumbled.

"Hey cheeky girl," I laughed, tickling her sides lightly.

Amalia groaned nonetheless, her grip tightening on me. "Not getting up," she whined, her voice muffled.

I let my head fall back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling with a smile. This kid knew exactly how to melt me. "Come on, sweetheart. We can't stay in bed all day. Stef will think we're lazy."

"Snuggles," she insisted, her small hands reaching for my boob.

I couldn't help but laugh, I knew I was losing the battle. From down the hall, I could hear the rhythmic tapping of Stef's laptop keys, the quiet hum of our usual morning routine. She was probably sitting at the dining table, legs stretched out, dogs curled up at her feet, sipping coffee while she worked.

"We've gotta get up too. What do you say we join her and have breakfast? Maybe she'll make french toast."

Her head popped up at that, her sleepy eyes lighting up just a bit. "French toast?"

I grinned, cupping her cheek. "If we get up now, we might convince her. But we can't if we're still snuggling, can we?"

She pouted, dramatic as always, before sighing heavily and flopping to the side a little and letting go of me.

"Okay," she sighed.

"Good girl," I said, leaning down to kiss her forehead before sitting up. I scooped her off my chest and set her gently on the bed.

As we made our way out of the room, her hand reached for mine, I felt the usual pull of gratitude for these moments—quiet, simple, perfect.

We found Stefania exactly where I expected her, seated at the table with her laptop, legs propped up, coffee mug within reach. Jeff and Ford were snoozing by her feet. She glanced up as we entered, her face breaking into that warm, easy smile I loved so much.

"Finally up?" she teased, closing her laptop.

"I was starting to think you two were never coming out," she winked.

I rolled my eyes, tugging Amalia closer. "Good morning to you too. And yes, we're up. Any chance you've made French toast?"

Amalia perked up at the mention, her face hopeful as she looked at Stef.

"French toast?" she asked.

Stef laughed, setting her coffee down and pushing back her chair. "Let's make it together, bambina."

Amalia moved toward her, arms outstretched, and Stef scooped her up effortlessly, setting her down on the kitchen counter like she were four years old. Watching them together, hearing Amalia giggle as Stef spun around pretending to ballroom dance, I couldn't help but smile.