Chapter 4 Isabella
ISABELLA
Gabe limped toward the booth, his medical boot making a distinctive thump with each step.
“That coffee,” Gabe said, sniffing the air. “Smells amazing.”
“It is amazing,” Christopher announced, sliding into the booth as Isabella brought over a basket of croissants. He took one and held it up with the pride of a kid showing off a school project. “I made these. Well, Isabella taught me, but I actually made croissants. From scratch. With my own hands.”
Gabe “Hmmm.” His eyes narrowed as he eyed them skeptically, then glanced at Isabella. “Who mixed the dough?”
“We both did,” Christopher and Isabella said in unison, their eyes caught, and her heart thudded as heat crept up her neck, and she turned her attention back to Gabe.
“I’ll get you some of that coffee,” Isabella said hurriedly, glad of the reprieve as she hurried to the coffee machine. She turned back, grateful that her hand wasn’t shaking as she put the coffee in front of Gabe. “What can I make you two for breakfast?”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Gabe told her. “These croissants and coffee are great. We don’t want to be any trouble.”
“Nonsense,” Isabella scoffed. “You need something more substantial than croissants.” She forced a smile.
“I’m going to be cooking for the other guests anyway in about an hour.
Might as well get started. Besides,” she pulled eggs and bacon from the fridge, “cooking for people who actually appreciate it is one of my favorite things.”
She set to work, muscle memory taking over as she whisked eggs and heated pans. The two men fell into easy conversation, which Isabella wasn’t following as she set to work. Their voices created a comfortable background rhythm to her cooking.
“Trinity and Maddy have become good friends,” Gabe said suddenly, directing the comment to Isabella. “She wanted me to ask you if Maddy could come with us on our outing today?”
Isabella smiled, cracking more eggs into a bowl. “I don’t want her to impose on your father-daughter time.”
“It’s not imposing at all,” Gabe assured her.
“I’m going with them,” Christopher added.
“Exactly,” Gabe said. “And it’s good to see my daughter so happy. Trinity doesn’t make friends easily.” His voice carried a weight that made Isabella look up from the stove. “She’s always been a little different from other kids. Between her mom being gone and me being deployed so much...”
“She told Maddy about her mother,” Isabella said gently, sliding a perfectly plated omelet in front of him. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Gabe’s jaw tightened for a moment, then relaxed. “Thanks. It’s been six years, but that’s a scar that never really heals, you know?”
Isabella did know. Not the same kind of loss, but she understood scars that stayed tender no matter how much time passed. She set a plate in front of Christopher, their eyes meeting briefly, and she saw understanding there, too.
“Trinity’s an amazing kid,” she said, returning to the stove. “So bright and funny and kind. You and Holly have done an incredible job with her.”
“Mostly Mom,” Gabe said with a self-deprecating shrug. “I’ve been gone more than I’ve been home. But this assignment, this medical leave, maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. I get to actually be here for Christmas this year.”
“Trinity is amazing,” Christopher jumped in, clearly wanting to lighten the mood, “She isn’t just smart and funny, and insanely talented.”
Gabe actually smiled, the expression transforming his face. “Sorry, he brags about her like she’s his own daughter.”
“Someone has to,” Christopher shot back. “You’re too modest. Trinity is a child prodigy in ballet and gymnastics; she’s beyond talented.”
“Really?” Isabella was genuinely impressed. “That’s wonderful.”
Isabella smiled. “Maddy took ballet for a few years, though she’s nowhere near Trinity’s level. She mainly did it as a hobby. There is a small studio on the island. They do Christmas pageants for the kids. You should take Trinity. Maddy could show you where it is.”
“That would be great.” Gabe’s gratitude was evident. “Trinity would love that.”
Isabella plated her own breakfast and joined them at the table, trying not to notice how right this felt, sitting here with these two men in the early morning quiet.
“Maddy also doesn’t make friends easily.
Although her challenge is different from Trinity’s.
She’s what they call a high-potential individual. Basically, she’s a genius.”
The words tumbled out before she could stop them. She rarely talked about this with anyone; the worry that kept her up at night was almost as much as bills and business concerns.
“That must be challenging,” Gabe said with genuine understanding.
“It is. She’s so far ahead of her classmates academically, but socially, she struggles.
The school does what it can, gives her advanced work, but it’s not enough.
I’m trying to save up to send her to a school for gifted children, where she’d be with kids like her, where she could really thrive.
” Isabella stabbed at her eggs, embarrassed by her admission.
“Sorry, you don’t need to hear about my problems.”
“Hey,” Christopher’s voice was gentle. “That’s not a problem, that’s being a good mom. You’re trying to give your daughter what she needs. That’s admirable.”
“He’s right,” Gabe added. “And from what I’ve seen, Maddy seems like a great kid. Happy, well-adjusted, kind. That’s all you.”
Isabella blinked against the sudden sting in her eyes. When was the last time anyone had acknowledged how hard she worked to be a good mother? How much did she worry, plan, and sacrifice?
“Thank you,” Isabella managed. “That means a lot.”
They ate in comfortable silence for a moment, the kitchen growing lighter as dawn approached. Through the window, Isabella could see the first hints of pink on the horizon, the promise of another beautiful Florida day.
“So this school,” Christopher said suddenly. “How much would something like that cost?”
Isabella named a figure that made both men whistle.
“Per year?” Gabe asked, incredulous.
“Per semester,” Isabella corrected with a rueful smile. “Plus uniforms, books, transportation. It’s not exactly in the single mom budget.”
“That’s insane,” Christopher said. “For that price, the kids better be getting taught by Einstein himself.”
Despite the depressing topic, Isabella found herself laughing. “Right? But apparently, it’s worth it. The curriculum is specifically designed for gifted children, with small class sizes and teachers trained in their unique needs. Maddy would finally be challenged, finally fit in.”
“She seems to fit in pretty well with Trinity,” Gabe observed.
“She does,” Isabella agreed, warmth spreading through her chest. “It’s been amazing to watch. I think they recognize something in each other, you know? That feeling of being a little different, a little apart from everyone else.”
“The outsider’s club,” Christopher said with a knowing nod. “Some of the best people I know are members.”
Isabella looked between the two men, these warriors who’d seen things she couldn’t imagine, who carried their own scars and struggles, and felt a connection she hadn’t expected. They understood. They didn’t judge or offer empty platitudes. They just understood.
The kitchen was fully light now, the December sun painting everything in shades of gold and pink.
Soon, the inn would wake up, guests would need feeding, and the day would demand her attention.
But for now, in this perfect moment, Isabella let herself enjoy the simple pleasure of breakfast with new friends who were quickly becoming something more.
“What about Maddy’s father?” Gabe asked the question, which was innocent enough, but it landed like a physical blow.
Isabella’s fork clattered against her plate, the sound sharp in the morning quiet. She felt the blood drain from her face, her stomach clenching as if preparing for impact. The kitchen suddenly felt suffocatingly warm.
“Oh, shoot, I’m sorry,” Gabe said quickly, clearly reading her reaction. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
“No, it’s...” Isabella took a breath, trying to steady herself.
But the words tumbled out anyway, like water through a broken dam.
“He left when I was two months pregnant to run off with our restaurant manager, but not before he cleaned out our bank accounts, destroyed our business, and disappeared. I haven’t seen him since. ”
The admission hung in the air like a confession.
Isabella couldn’t look at either man, focusing instead on the congealing eggs on her plate.
Why had she said that? She never talked about Tony, never admitted to anyone how completely he’d destroyed her life.
But something about these two, about this morning, had lowered her defenses in a way that now felt dangerous.
Christopher’s hand moved across the table like he might reach for hers, then stopped, respecting the boundary but offering silent support. “That’s rough,” he said, anger and disgust flashing in his eyes.
“He sounds like a real piece of work,” Gabe added, his voice carrying the particular tone military men used when they were being polite about someone they’d rather say something much harsher about.
Before Isabella could respond, the kitchen door opened and Jane walked in.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.
Where Holly moved through spaces with warmth, Jane carried a coolness that wasn’t quite unfriendly, but neither was it welcoming.
This morning she wore jeans and a simple blue sweater, her auburn hair pulled back in a pristine ponytail that caught the morning light.
“Good morning,” Jane said, her voice professionally pleasant. Her blue eyes swept over the scene: the remnants of breakfast, the casual intimacy of the three of them around the table. Something flickered in her expression, there and gone too quickly to identify.