Chapter 150

Chapter 150

“Same,” I said, tossing a peanut into my mouth. “You know, even if everyone else thinks we’re a little… chaotic, this is kind of perfect. All of us together.”

“Yeah,” she said, munching on a cookie. “Family chaos. Our specialty.”

Later, Dad came in to check on us, glancing around like he was deciding whether to scold or just shake his head. He opted for the shake. “Don’t get into too much trouble,” he said casually, like the words alone would somehow contain us.

I laughed. “Yes, Dad. Totally under control.”

Lila rolled her eyes. “Sure.”

Mom appeared behind him, smiling softly. “You two really are inseparable, huh?”

I shrugged. “Best kind of chaos.”

She shook her head, but there was a glint of amusement in her eyes. “Just… don’t break anything.”

I smirked. “No promises.”

By the time night fell, everyone was lounging in various corners of the house, full from dinner, drinks in hand, chatting, laughing, and winding down. Lila and I found ourselves sprawled on the terrace again, watching the backyard glow under the string lights, the remnants of the BBQ fading into the warm night.

“Weekend’s going well,” I said quietly, tossing a grape up and catching it.

“Yeah,” Lila said, leaning back against the railing. “Best one in a while.”

I glanced at her, grinning. “Worth every second. Family, chaos, laughs, maybe a little plotting… you know, our usual.”

She laughed softly. “Our usual.”

And for a few minutes, the world was just us, the warm night air, the smell of grilled meat lingering, and the comfort of family all around, even if we were off in our own little bubble of mischief.

Because home, with all its chaos, all its noise, and all its love, was exactly where we belonged. And Lila and I? We were unstoppable.

Xander

The backyard smelled like charcoal, steaks, and summer itself. I’d been manning the grill for what felt like hours, flipping meat, adjusting the coals, and making sure everything went smoothly, but honestly, the chaos was what made family gatherings like this worthwhile. Everyone had a role, whether they knew it or not. Isabella fussing over condiments, Zia coordinating drinks and side dishes, Angie laughing with Lila while sneaking snacks, Lucas pacing like he was negotiating a peace treaty with the universe… and Alexander, my son, grinning like he owned the world.

He was eighteen, an adult, and the guys myself, Lucas, Uncle Julian, and even Dad, had decided it was time he had his first beer. I watched him hold it like it was a weapon and not a beverage, his eyes wide, trying to act casual. Lila hovered nearby, smirking like she knew he’d freak out.

“Relax,” I said, clapping him on the shoulder. “It’s just one. Don’t inhale it like it’s rocket fuel.”

He chuckled nervously. “Got it. Just… one.”

Dad leaned back in his chair, twirling a soda can in his hands, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You know,” he said slowly, voice a mix of nostalgia and amusement, “your father did the same thing when he turned eighteen.”

I shot him a look. “Dad, we’ve gone over this.”

“No, really,” he said, leaning forward, eyes sparkling. “He snuck out that night, went to a party… and ended up completely hammered. I thought he was going to live in a dumpster somewhere.”

I froze for a second. “My father? Out of control? At eighteen?” He asked, looking shocked.

“Wait…he actually did that?” He asked cautiously.

“Every word,” Dad said, nodding, smiling at the memory. “And he came home the next morning, hair a mess, clothes sticking in weird places, mumbling something about the ‘great night of youth.’ I thought the boy would never recover. Your grandfather…” He paused; Alaric was the root of everything. “…he’d have killed him if he’d caught him,” Dad said.

Dad shrugged. “I was too young to stop him. Just remember, Xander: kids that age think they’re invincible. They’re testing boundaries, seeing what sticks. You see it now with Alexander? It’s all the same,” he said.

I exhaled slowly, watching my son take a tentative sip of his beer. He grimaced slightly, coughing, but held it together. My chest swelled a little; he was trying. That was all any of us could ask.

“Don’t make that face, Alexander,” I said gently. “It’s supposed to taste like… well, beer. Not like poison.”

He laughed nervously. “I can survive poison. This might actually be manageable.”

Lila snorted beside him. “You’re overthinking it. Just drink it.”

And of course, the little bugger did, because peer pressure from his elders works. By the end of the evening, he was laughing louder than anyone else, teasing Lila, tossing a piece of grilled corn into my lap, and dodging imaginary arrows when I retaliated with a napkin. I’d never seen him so relaxed in years.

The night stretched on. Drinks were poured, stories exchanged, and the adults were trading old tales and teasing each other relentlessly. I glanced at Isabella, standing near the dessert table with a small smile, clearly enjoying the controlled chaos. Zia always did the best she could to corral a herd of wild toddlers, teenagers, and adults like it was nothing.

By the time the fire pit was lit, Alexander was leaning back in his chair, grinning like a king. Lila was beside him, elbowing him playfully, and I felt this tug in my chest. He was grown now, technically an adult, but the chaos, the joy, the mischief? Still ours. Still his. Still mine.

I finally called it a night, and everyone started drifting to their corners of the house. I noticed Alexander sneaking a little later to grab one more beer from the cooler, Lila in tow, and I caught him just in time. “Kid,” I said quietly, hands on his shoulders, “enough. You’ve had more than enough.”

He rolled his eyes, smirking. “Yes, Dad. Totally under control.”

“Good. That’s what I like to hear,” I said. “Tomorrow, you’re nursing yourself. And if you think I won’t remember this morning, think again.”

The next morning… Oh, the next morning.

I stepped into the kitchen early, thinking I’d grab coffee before anyone else was up. Mistake number one: Alexander. Mistake number two: the aftermath of his first adult experiment with beer.

He walked in like a zombie, hair sticking out at every angle, eyes half-closed, and sweatshirt hanging loose. He was groaning, pacing, and muttering, and at first I thought he might be sick. Then I realized what had happened. The kid was hungover. And honestly? Probably terrified of being caught.

I suppressed a chuckle. “Well,” I said lightly, leaning against the counter. “Congratulations. You’ve officially survived your first legal drink.”

He groaned louder. “I swear, Dad… never again. This is… I’m never doing this again.”

“You sound exactly like your father did,” Dad said from the doorway, stepping in like he always did, arms crossed, grin tugging at his mouth. “Hair a mess, eyes glazed, muttering regrets. Classic.”

I blinked at him. “Wait… you’re comparing this to Dad at eighteen?” Alexander asked.