Chapter 8
SEBASTIAN
I was only slightly teasing. Camila’s middle name is actually Isabelle, but it’s twofold. My grandmother’s middle name is also Isabelle. And, yeah: it’s for Isabella as well.
My sisters both had a field day with that. They know how I’ve felt about Isabella for years. My parents are either in denial, or blissfully ignorant.
Abuela just wants me to have more babies, she doesn’t care who the mother is. She’d prefer I be married in a proper Catholic ceremony before my wife pops out her great-grandchildren, but she’s even willing to compromise on that if I deliver a chubby newborn wrapped in muslin.
“Daddy,” Camila whines as she prances into the kitchen.
“Yes, Mija ?” I reply, taking a big sip of coffee.
“Is Isabella my mother?” Camila asks bluntly, and I immediately choke, spewing coffee all over the table.
“Daddy! Are you okay? You made a big mess!”
“Oh my. Are you alright, Sebastian?” Isabella asks innocently as she rushes into the room, patting my back as I cough.
“Went down the wrong pipe,” I croak. Jesus.
I did not think Camila would connect her name and Isabella’s so quickly.
It’s only recently that Camila has begun to ask about her mother after seeing classmates picked up by their own moms after school.
I’d explained that Camila’s mother chose to move away and leave her in my care.
I’d have liked to tell Camila the truth; that her mother was a selfish bitch who could rot in hell for all I care, but on the rare chance the woman comes back into Camila’s life, I don’t want to start things off poorly for Camila.
“Well, is she?” Camila asks impatiently, her foot tapping against the floor.
Wearing pink shorts with bows on the sides, a purple shirt with a glittery unicorn, and her hair in perfect braids courtesy of my mother, I can’t help the small grin that slides across my face.
My daughter is, without a doubt, the best thing I’ve ever done in my life.
“No,” I answer simply, hoping she’ll drop the subject.
“Oh,” Camila responds, her shoulders dropping in defeat. She slinks to the furthest stool at the island, sitting down and resting her head on the counter.
“What was that about?” Isabella asks.
Before I can come up with a reply, Camila states, “I asked if you’re my mom. But he says you’re not. I’m sad. I thought you’d be a good mom, I guess.”
Silence.
Shit.
“What Camila means —” I stammer, but Isabella holds up a hand to stop me.
“I think it’s clear what she means. You have a very smart girl on your hands. Your Daddy is right, Camila,” Isabella says, turning to walk toward my daughter. “I’m not your mom. I can be your friend, though. Would that be okay?”
Camila studies Isabella, chewing on her bottom lip nervously. “Can we still have a sleepover? And do you do braids like Abuelita ? What about making cookies? Daddy makes the worst cookies. Uncle Luca says they’re like hockey pucks.”
“Uncle Luca?” Isabella asks softly, her eyes finding mine.
I put my hands up in mock surrender. “I swear, I didn’t start that. Luca did.”
Isabella quietly sits beside Camila. “As long as your dad says it’s okay, we can have a sleepover.
I can do braids, but I think your Abuelita may have better skills than me.
I can, in fact, make excellent cookies, and I definitely don’t create hockey pucks.
As Uncle Luca is actually my brother, he knows what a good cookie tastes like. ”
“He’s your brother?” Camila whispers incredulously, her eyes as wide as saucers. “How come I’ve never met you then?”
Isabella laughs awkwardly. “I’m not sure. That’s a question for your Daddy and Uncle Luca. I own a bakery, so I will be sure to leave a good recipe for cookies with your Daddy so the two of you can make them in the future.”
“You own a bakery?” Camila squeals, clapping her hands in delight. I beam at her happiness.
“Well, I don’t own it outright.” Well, fuck. My good mood just fell insanely quickly. “But I run it, and I bake everything that I sell each day. In fact, I’m really late today, and I have to get going.”
“Can I go with you? I wanna see how a bakery runs,” my daughter asks.
“No, Mija . Not today. You’re with me all day,” I tell her with a frown.
Camila has her yearly checkup after lunch, an eye appointment right afterward, and a play date with the daughter of another single dad from her kindergarten class.
In between the excitement, she’ll be hanging with me at the bar while I check payroll and inventory reports.
And damn it all to hell, but I’m furious that I can’t be protecting Isabella today.
As Camila skips away, Isabella turns to me, her eyes full of questions. “Why didn’t I know about Camila?”
I shrug. “Luca is the only one who has met her. Dom knows I have a daughter, but he knows I keep her private. ”
“Why hasn’t she come to any birthday parties? She’d probably fit right in with my nieces and nephews.”
“I haven’t been to a Santo birthday party in quite a few years,” I confess, rubbing the back of my neck sheepishly. “Maybe I subconsciously stopped attending because of her, but I think it was also a safeguard for my own heart.”
“Why?” she asks quietly.
I sigh, the weight heavy on my chest. “Because I feared how you might react, and I knew I couldn’t take it if you were upset. If it impacted how you treated me.”
“Oh. I guess that makes sense,” Isabella whispers, her gaze pinned on the ground. Before I can say more, she swivels, turning to walk toward the garage. As she gets closer, she stops with a gasp. “My car isn’t here!”
“It is, actually,” I tell her, reaching around her to grab her keys from a hook by the door. “Trace and Zee went back to get it so you’d have it here.”
“Zee?” she asks.
“His name is Zach, but he goes by Zee.”
“Is that like a club name?”
“No, we have never really bought into the club name thing. Some of the guys have nicknames. But we call everyone what they choose to be called. I don’t feel like we need to issue a new name or identifier just because they’re part of the club.”
“Do the guys have nicknames from their time in service?” Isabella wonders.
“Some do. It depends on the career field. Pilots definitely do, and some of them are weird as hell.”
“So not all Maverick and Goose?” she says with a smile.
“Nope. One guy had the call sign Tater. I never did get an explanation as to how that came to be.”
I reach around Isabella again to open the door, holding it for her as she breezes through. Following her into the garage, she stops when she sees her car is in place of mine.
“I don’t want to displace you, Sebastian. This isn’t right,” she murmurs, her eyes seemingly zeroed in on her license plate.
“I’m not leaving your car outside where anyone can reach it. I’ve debated on dropping you off so your car isn’t a sitting duck in town.”
Her eyes whip to mine, horror evident. “Should I be worried?”
“No,” I tell her quietly, grabbing her hand and bringing it up to my chest. Placing it against my heart, I wait until she feels the steady beat, and I visibly see her relax.
“I promise I will never take your safety for granted. Everything I do is in an abundance of caution. Trace and Zee will be taking shifts keeping an eye on the bakery until we have more information on who is pulling the strings here. You’ll never be alone. ”
Isabella’s lower lip trembles slightly as a sheen of tears over takes her pupils.
I don’t even think, I just yank her into my arms. I’m not sure who is more surprised when she willingly circles her arms around my waist, but I’m not about to ask.
I worried last night was a one-off, her needing to sleep with me in my bed.
Burying my face in her hair, I relish how her body lines up perfectly with mine.
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d like you to leave your car here. I’ll drive you to work today.” I wait, holding my breath, for Isabella to respond.
I feel her relief before she answers, “Okay.”
“I wish I could be there with you all day today,” I admit softly, running a hand up and down her spine.
“Me too,” she whispers, and I think my heart stops.
“Seriously?” I blurt out with a laugh.
Her head tilts back as her eyes find mine. “Is it that surprising?”
“That you’d want me to be around you? A little, yeah.”
Isabella shrugs as she snuggles back into my embrace, and I bite back a groan.
Good fucking God, she feels perfect. Her voice is quiet when she speaks.
“You make me feel safe. There aren’t many men who make me feel that way, but you …
do. I know I haven’t been the nicest to you over the years, Sebastian, but I find comfort with you.
I’m struggling to undo the damage in my brain that tells me all men are jerks, but I’m trying. ”
“I’ll always keep you safe, mi Cielo ,” I say reverently, and I feel her arms tighten around my midsection almost imperceptibly.
A tremor wracks her body, and I assume she’s struggling.
In an attempt to break the tension, I joke, “Besides. Your brothers would straight up murder me if anything happened to you on my watch. And I expect Leo and Alex would make me suffer for the fun of it.”
Isabella giggles. “They absolutely would. They definitely fall under the safe category, but they’re slightly feral when family is involved.”
I chuckle, pressing my lips to the top of her head. “I fully support a feral family. Wait until you meet my sisters.”
“Update,” I bark into the phone.
“Jesus, man. I just gave you an update ten minutes ago. Nothing has changed,” Trace says with an exaggerated sigh.
“I don’t fucking care. I said updates every ten minutes. If you don’t text me, I’m calling. If you don’t answer, I will hunt your ass down until I get the fucking update.”