“It’s never comin’ off.” I kissed the top of his head and gathered his hand on my chest. At dinner, he’d worn an entire collection of bracelets on his own wrist. Well, he’d run off to put them on once he’d discovered that August and I loved our gifts.

I didn’t have the heart to tell the boy he’d misspelled one of the Italian terms of endearment I’d given him this week. The bracelet was almost more perfect with the mistake. But there were several others too, from topolino and ciccino to darlin’ and baby boy.

“Which ones are you wearing now?” I noticed he had two left.

“My favorites.” He smiled sleepily and held up his wrist. “Ragazzo and little one.”

I hummed and gave his forehead a kiss too. “You’ll always be my piccolo ragazzo.”

He sighed happily and burrowed himself deeper into my embrace.

After we heard the toilet flush, it wasn’t long before August returned and said the spider was gone. Then he joined us in bed, and we sandwiched Camden between us.

“I’ll give it ten minutes before he declares it’s too hot and Daddy’s snoring too loudly,” August said with a pinch of amusement.

I closed my eyes and grinned, and Camden giggled. Ten minutes—better savor the moment, then.

“I don’t recall Daddy and me giving you permission to be this cranky.” I spoke against the top of Camden’s head as I hugged him to me, making it impossible for him to escape.

I knew coming out of a regressive period took its toll on him, but I had to admit he’d reached a whole new level of cute. He’d joined us for breakfast on the patio a few hours ago looking like a grumpy teenage gamer, with his sweats, hoodie, shaggy hair, and black-framed reading glasses. And as much as the Little in him enticed me, I wanted to get to know this Camden too. The young man who worked as a content creator at a gaming company, the one who produced cooking tutorials and cursed like a sailor, the one who sported inked cuffs around his calves of his favorite Star Wars characters and had his eyebrow and nipples pierced.

The one who knew August better than the man knew himself.

“You’re fogging my glasses,” Camden groused against my chest.

I slipped my hands into his hair and tugged back a little, forcing him to peer up at me with the same scowl he’d worn throughout breakfast.

“There. Fog’s gone.” I dipped down and kissed him briefly. “Anything else we can do to help August?”

He should be back from the store any minute, and he’d put us in charge of fixing a lunch we could eat while we prepared for the barbecue.