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» Domestic Establishment #2 — Continuation of We need more room «
The scan Okoye had performed with her Kimoyo Beads had informed her that none of the bones in her foot had been broken, but the throbbing, which had just begun to settle down after five minutes of icing, had her doubting those results. On a positive note, her ears had finally stopped ringing. Instead of crying and shrieking at deafening decibels, her boys both sat happily in their highchairs. They babbled at one another as they ate the food, she’d hobbled back and forth in the kitchen to prepare for them.
They were the only babies she’d ever seen who ate everything placed in front of them without fuss or delay. They inherited their father’s appetite, she thought to herself, smiling as she remembered the antics she’d witnessed, as a teen, when her younger cousins had fought and cried, throwing food about because they didn’t want to eat. That could never be her boys. The most they did was bang their little plates, demanding more.
Her amusement with her sons’ stomachs was interrupted with the entrance of her husband and daughter. Uproarious laughter came from the pair, Attuma tickling Naleli as the girl snorted and begged him to stop, that was until he took note of the ice pack Okoye had placed on her foot, the limb elevated on the seat in front of her. Naleli, following her father’s eyes, also glanced at her, cackle stopping short.
“What has happened, my love?” Attuma asked over their daughter’s, “Are you okay, mom?” Attuma unhanded the girl, and she promptly made her way to her mother, engulfing Okoye in a hug.
“I’m okay, sweetie. My foot just had a run in with your brother’s highchair. It hurts, but the pain is fading.”
“Oh, okay,” Naleli smiled, “Should I kiss it to make it better,” the preteen joked, eyes bright in good humor.
As always, Okoye’s heart melted, everything within her chest turning to mush, when confronted with the adorableness of one of her children. Naleli had taken after her father, his dimples carved into each of her cheeks and creating the sweetest, most charming expression whenever she smiled. Okoye was hard-pressed to deny that face anything, but had learned early on that allowing her daughter’s every whim would lead to ruin.
“That won’t be necessary,” she answered, wiggling her fingers into Naleli’s abdomen. The girl giggled then jumped back out of Okoye’s reach.
“What you can do for me is take your brothers into the living room so that your father and I can talk.”
That piqued Attuma’s curiosity—drawing his attention from his sons, who both had begun gurgling and vying for his focus, while attempting to climb from their highchairs, from the moment he’d arrived. Placing the boys, who’d been climbing all over his person, on the ground, to their loud protests, he sat in a chair he moved adjacent to Okoye.
“Let’s go Eloy and Taavi. It sounds like dad might be in trouble,” Naleli threw over her shoulder as she dragged her toddling brothers out of the room.
Attuma snorted, but turned soft eyes on Okoye, faking a pout when he asked, “Am I in trouble, my love? What can I do to win your favor?”
Okoye gave him a hard look, glaring briefly and crossing her arms before sighing deeply to relax her face and limbs. She rolled her eyes, sighing again, unhappily.
“You were right,” she finally admitted. “We need more room. We have to move now, sooner rather than later.”
“I was right? It is not often that I hear such from your lips.” He leaned back in his seat, smug as he moved her foot from its perch on the chair to rest on his lap. He removed the ice pack to scrutinize the damage that had been done. He noticed several of her toes were swollen, but was satisfied that she was able to move them without difficulty.
“It doesn’t hurt as much,” she supplied, watching while he began to massage the rest of her foot.
“Does this have something to do with your sudden acceptance?”
“Yes, that and having to climb over your gigantic furniture and all the kids’ stuff in order to get across a room. The house is always a mess, and I can’t organize anything because there isn’t room for everything! We just need more space!”
Attuma increased the strength of his kneading, silently urging Okoye to calm.
“While I never want you hurt, I am pleased that you have finally agreed with me, especially as I have commissioned architects from both our nations to collaborate on the design of our new home.”
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