The next day was far from restful.
Damon found himself busy from the moment the sun cracked over the neighborhood roofs.
Ava's official birthday celebration was finally here, the one where friends, and family were coming over.
Everyone was invited. While it was about Ava, it was also about gathering and just celebrating as a family.
The backyard needed work, so did the kitchen. Damon had started with the grill, first by buying one.
After a bit of back-and-forth over models and burners with Svetlana, they settled on something big, sturdy, and built to handle the kind of meat-heavy menu Damon envisioned.
He'd also gone shopping with her earlier that morning, grabbing not just party food, but something more long-term.
The bags that hit the counter included lean proteins, clean carbs, mass gain mixes, and nutrient-rich snacks.
The weight jump from 185 to 205 wasn't a joke, and if Damon was serious about making light heavyweight his new home, he'd have to start from the kitchen.
He unloaded a sack of sweet potatoes as Svetlana rolled her eyes at the sheer number of chicken breasts.
"You planning to feed the whole gym?"
"Maybe," he said, smirking. "Or maybe I'm planning to become a tank."
She gave him a look but said nothing, already unpacking the fruit and vegetables.
The house smelled like prep. Garlic, marinade, and something sugary baking in the oven.
Ava, meanwhile, sat on her foam mat in the living room, thumping her palm against a small plush lion and babbling at its stitched-in smile.
Damon peeked in on her as he mixed protein powder into a blender, watching her raise her hands like she was conducting an invisible orchestra.
One year old, and already running the house.
Svetlana moved in behind him, her hands sliding over his arms and chest with a curious, slow touch.
Damon glanced back at her with a raised brow, then turned fully, catching her gaze with a smirk before leaning in to kiss her.
"Well, as much as I'd love to," he murmured, "Ava's in the other room."
That earned him a light slap on the chest. "Please. I wouldn't. I'm just trying to get a feel… before you go full tank on me."
"Sure you are," he teased, his voice low and amused. He reached up, gently brushing his fingers through her hair. "But don't worry. I'm not going to become a brick wall. I still need to move. The focus is going to be on clean muscle, cardio-heavy buildup. Speed over size. Efficiency over bulk."
Svetlana nodded slightly, her fingers still resting over his chest. "Good. I didn't fall in love with a wall."
He chuckled and leaned forward again, resting his forehead against hers for a second.
"No," he whispered. "You fell for the Ronin."
She smiled at that, then gave him one more pat on the chest before walking off toward the dining room, calling out something.
"Ronin is not a good nickname, by the way."
Damon watched her go, still smiling.
He mumbled under his breath with a grin, "Hate to see you go… but love to watch you leave."
Shaking his head at himself, Damon turned back to the counter and grabbed his protein shake, giving it one last swirl before taking a long sip.
The taste was whatever—chalky, and thick. He had a goal now, grow smart, not just big.
There was still a lot on his plate today. The meat needed marinating, the grill still had to be set up, and a few decorations were half-finished.
At least Joey and Ashley were on their way. With them around, the load would lighten, and knowing Joey, he'd probably take over the grill like it was a title fight.
Damon glanced over at the kitchen clock.
The rest of the afternoon moved quickly. Damon and Svetlana stayed busy, bouncing between prepping the kitchen, setting up the grill, and adding final touches to the backyard.
Soon enough, the first guests arrived.
Joey and Ashley stepped in through the front door, each holding a gift bag and looking like they'd sprinted through traffic to make it. But their son didn't wait for pleasantries.
Little Theo burst through the hallway like a rocket, arms out, eyes wide. He was two and a half now wild, chatty, and impossible to slow down.
"Unco Deymonnn!" he shouted, his tiny sneakers slapping against the tile as he ran.
Damon turned with a grin just as Theo launched himself at his legs, hugging him without slowing down.
"Momm an' Dad took me tuh Dyney Lan!" Theo beamed up at him, face lit with excitement. "I saw Missy Mice! She wave at me! I wave back but she no talk! But she see me! I think she see me!"
Damon crouched down, laughing as he ruffled the kid's curly hair. "She definitely saw you, buddy. You probably made her day."
Theo bounced in place like he was still running on theme park energy, already talking about roller coasters and cotton candy without pausing for breath. Joey just shook his head behind him.
"Dude's been talking nonstop for three days," Joey muttered, handing Damon a bottle of wine. "Good luck."
"Daaaaaaadd loookkkk!" Theo yelled from the living room, standing near the shelf like he'd just found buried treasure.
Damon turned with a smirk, already sensing where this was going. "No… you good luck," he said to Joey, patting him on the shoulder before walking behind him.
They both stepped into the living room, and there was Theo, standing inches from the glass case holding Damon's eight championship belts, eyes wide, hands nearly pressed to the glass.
"Unco Dayymon, fan I get one?" he asked, pointing eagerly at the middleweight title like it was candy on a shelf.
Joey sighed like a man who had seen this exact situation a hundred times before. "Theo," he said, crouching down next to him, "how many times do we touch other people's stuff without asking?"
Theo glanced at him with a slow blink. "Uhhh… when dey say yes?"
"Exactly," Joey muttered, giving Damon a look. "See what I deal with?"
Damon chuckled and looked at Theo. "Tell you what. You win your own one day, and I'll let you hold mine next to it. Deal?"
Theo gasped. "Deal! I get belt too!"
Joey just shook his head. "Man, you've officially corrupted him."