Author's Note: I have obviously taken a hiatus from all things O/N, and I'm sure I don't need to explain why (amongst other reasons). Haha! But after a few months of letting things simmer, I have decided that I still love me some Bensaro and I will NOT let 'Rollaro'—blech!—get in the way of that. So enjoy!

Summary: Conversations on a Miami beach on a warm afternoon.

Women and Babes

Nicholas Amaro carries his 4 year old daughter on his shoulders as he slowly—per Stella's request—walks the shore. He holds onto her bare legs as she thrusts out her little arms to get the full effect of being up on her father's shoulders. The breeze sets in, wafting through Stella's untamed tresses, finally dry after a day of playing in the water with her cousins and siblings. Her bright pink cover-up long forgotten, Stella is happy to be taking advantage of wearing only her favorite one-piece bathing suit and a pair of shorts. Nick can practically feel the bright smile on her face and it's contagious if the one on his face is anything to go by.

"You good up there, mija?" he laughs as Stella's arms wrap around his head.

"Yes!" she exclaims, burying her face into his dark waves of hair. ". . . Daddy?"

"Hmm?"

"Who is your fave-rit girl?"

He's slightly taken aback—she's never asked a question like that before—but from Stella? Well, he's learned to prepare for anything.

"Who is my favorite girl? . . . Hmmm, I'd have to say . . . you and Zara," he answers.

"'An what about mommy? She your fave-rit girl too?"

"Nope," he answers nonchalantly, "mommy's my favorite woman."

"Your fave-rit wuh-men? But, daddy, mommy's a girl," Stella retorts matter-of-factly.

"Yea."

"Then how she a wuh-men? I thought wuh-mens was old . . . like Uh-bway-luh?"

Nick holds back a snort of laughter. Wait 'til I tell ma. ". . . No, Stells, a woman . . ." he thinks, ". . . a woman is an older girl."

"But mommy's not old daddy! Mommy is pretty!" she says as if to say 'duh'.

"Abuela's not pretty?"

"She is pretty."

Nick shakes his head. Stella's conversations always amuses him and whoever's around to hear the randomness that sometimes spurts out of his young child's mouth. But he loves talking to her and figuring her out. Her personality is unlike anything he—or Liv's—ever witnessed. She's so bright and bubbly and precocious and so unlike himself or Liv that he sometimes finds himself wondering where the hell she comes from.

"Stella, a woman is a big girl," he again begins trying to break it down in a way that his little girl can understand, "who works and has a family and responsibilities, like mommy and Abuela."

"So mommy is a wuh-men?"

He nods. "Mommy is definitely a woman," he replies, "an amazing woman."

"I not a wuh-men."

Nick grabs her under her arms and carefully flips her down eliciting loud and gleeful giggles from the girl as he situates her so that they're face to face.

"You, my beautiful little girl, are most definitely NOT a woman, and you better never be."

Stella smiles at him. "Mommy is your fave-rit wuh-men."

"Absolutely."

"Do you love mommy?"

"I love mommy to the moon and back."

"What about me 'an Zara 'an Sam-Sam?"

"I love you and Zara and Sammy more than anything in the world."

"You gonna tell mommy how much you love her daddy?"

Nick turns around in the direction of the beach house. He can barely see it, but he can make out the beautiful silhouette of the dark-haired woman making her way toward them. He could feel her presence a mile away.

". . . You bet I am mija."

Nick sets his daughter down and she plants her feet into the wet sand. She loves the feel of it squishing between her toes, especiallywhen it's wet. He instructs her to walk back toward the beach house and she does so with slow strides, demanding that she get the full effect of walking the beach—sand, seashells, and all. Nick's attention remains on her and making sure that her curiosity doesn't get the best of her. He'd hate for her to wander off into the water. But as they get closer to his love, he finds that he can't take his eyes off her.

Her long, dark waves of hair flow with the soft breeze, framing her beautiful face in a way that makes it hard to look away. And her soft yellow cover-up clings to her, accentuating all of his favorite curves.

"Mommy!" he hears Stella exclaim and she darts off toward his favorite woman.

Olivia smiles and kneels down, catching the bundle of energy in her arms. "Hi, lovey! I haven't seen your pretty face all day!" she says running a hand over her curly hair.

"I haven't seen your pretty face all day!" Stella shouts cupping her mother's face in her hands. She then proceeds to lean forward and plant a loud, smacking kiss on Liv's nose.

"Your kisses are the best, baby girl."

"Your kisses are bestest."

Olivia smiles and kisses her on her cheek. "Did you have fun today?"

Stella nods enthusiastically. "Yep."

"And you're gonna tell me all about it before bed, right?"

"Yes!"

"I can't wait. Hey, Abuela's waiting for you back at the house for dinner. We brought back all of your favorites."

Stella's eyes light up. "Mac'n'cheese?"

"Well, duh silly. Look," she replies pointing a short ways down to the petite woman waiting with her hands on her hips.

"I have to tell you a secret first."

"Oh yea?"

Stella takes a look up at Nick then leans in to her mother's ear whispering something before sprinting off to Gloria.

"What'd she tell you?" Nick asks with a knowing glint in his eye.

Olivia stands up dusting the sand off her dress. "Nothing," she sing-songs, "it's a secret."

"I'm pretty sure it's not."

"It has nothing to do with you."

"Then why are you looking at me like that?"

"Looking at you like what?"

"Like that?"

Olivia stretches her arms out and runs her fingers through his hair. Nick laughs and shrinks away.

"What are you doing?"

"Your hair's just so amazing, babe, I couldn't resist," she teases.

He slaps her hands away.

"You had sand in your hair!"

Nick grabs her arms and pulls her to his side, guiding them around his waist. Olivia smiles because she's right where she's wanted to be all day; in the arms of the man she loves. Her smile widens as his lips touch her forehead. For a while they're silent, just basking in eachother's presence. And then they begin to walk in the opposite direction of their temporary residence.

"How was your day with the girls?"

She shrugs. "It was eventful. We had a really good time. Did the kids give you guys hell?"

"No more than usual. You know how it goes with our three; Sammy thinks water means it's time to get naked, Stella's always her usual energetic self, and Zara's 'too old to play with the little kids.'"

"Ahh, yes. But everything went okay? I notice you didn't call or text, so I guess there were no major melt downs for you to navigate?"

"Other than Stella refusing to wear the 'ugly, blue's for boy's' bathing suit you had out for her to wear, I'd say things went pretty well—with our kids."

"And you let the guys—"

"Every man for their own children; that was the rule."

"So how did you and Stella end up walking the beach? How'd you manage to leave the other two?"

"Zara finally warmed up to the little kids when she realized that her bossiness was an advantage—we really need to talk to her about that, by the way—and Sammy was content watching Sponge Bob."

"You shouldn't let the—"

"'TV babysit the kids,' I know, but we're on vacation so home rules are null and void."

". . . Ready to go back? We have to feed the kids and start the night-time wars."

Nick chuckles. "Only if you do me a favor?"

"What?" she asks, slightly curious.

"Tell me what Stella told you."

"Okay, but first . . ." Olivia trails off as she turns Nick in the direction of the house standing behind him. "My feet are suddenly tired, hun, and that's a really long way to walk."

Nick rolls his eyes. "Hop on."

Olivia smiles and climbs onto Nick's back. He hoists her up, his arms behind her knees to support her and her arms wrapped loosely around his neck.

"Giddy-up."

Nick laughs at his wife's playful banter and starts walking back.

"We're gonna save all 'giddying-up' for tonight when the lights go out."

Her chin on his shoulder, she plants a barely there kiss on his neck. "Promises, promises."

"Speaking of promises . . ."

"I'll tell you as soon as you take your 'fave-rit old wuh-men' up those steps," she whispers in his ear.

Nick laughs. Out of the mouth of babes . . .

End

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