Chapter 8 Christopher
CHRISTOPHER
Christopher settled behind the wheel of Charlie’s sedan, adjusting the seat to accommodate his longer legs. Isabella climbed into the passenger seat beside him, and the proximity sent his pulse racing in a way that had nothing to do with the evening’s earlier chaos at the Seaside Inn.
Trinity and Maddy piled into the back seat, their excited chatter filling the car before Christopher even turned the key in the ignition. They were comparing favorite parts of the day, voices overlapping as they discussed the carriage ride and the hot chocolate and the snow globes they’d purchased.
“I loved when the driver told us about the Spanish settlers,” Trinity said. “Did you know they celebrated Christmas here in the fifteen hundreds?”
“I liked the lights best,” Maddy countered. “Everything was so beautiful and sparkly.”
Christopher caught Isabella’s eye as he pulled out of the inn’s parking lot, and she smiled at the girls’ enthusiasm. Something soft crossed her expression. Maternal and warm and utterly beautiful. His chest tightened at the sight.
He’d spent most of the evening at the Seaside Inn helping Isabella manage their dinner rush, and it had been surprisingly enjoyable despite the chaos.
Working beside her in the kitchen, taking direction, learning her rhythm.
The easy way they’d fallen into sync after the initial awkwardness of him not knowing where anything was kept.
Now, driving through the evening darkness with the girls’ happiness bubbling in the back seat and Isabella sitting beside him, Christopher felt something settle in his chest. Something that felt dangerously close to contentment.
“So what movie are you going to watch first?” he asked, catching the girls’ eyes in the rearview mirror.
“We’re thinking Elf,” Trinity said. “Or maybe Home Alone.”
“Both!” Maddy declared. “We can watch both if we stay up late enough.”
“Your mom might have something to say about that,” Christopher pointed out, glancing at Isabella.
Isabella laughed softly. “As long as they’re reasonable about it. Tomorrow is a holiday, so they can sleep in a little.”
The conversation in the back seat shifted to popcorn versus cookies as sleepover snacks, and Christopher let their chatter wash over him as he navigated through Anastasia Island. Isabella gave quiet directions, her voice barely audible over the girls’ debate.
They drove through a neighborhood that Christopher immediately liked.
Older homes that were well-maintained, each one unique but all sharing that coastal Florida charm.
Christmas lights decorated many of the houses, not the elaborate displays of wealthy neighborhoods but the warm, welcoming lights of families who took pride in their homes.
He could see beach access points between some of the houses, glimpses of sand and ocean beyond.
It felt established. Safe. The kind of place where neighbors knew each other and looked out for one another.
“I grew up here,” Isabella said quietly, not interrupting the girls but speaking just loud enough for Christopher to hear. “In this house, actually. My grandmother raised me.”
Christopher glanced at her, hearing something in her voice that made him want to understand more. “Your grandmother must have been a special woman to raise you alone.”
Isabella’s smile was sad but warm. “She was. The best woman I ever knew. She taught me everything. How to cook, how to be strong, how to stand on your own feet.” She paused.
“I lost my parents at an early age. My mother died of cancer when I was four. My father died in the line of duty. He was a police officer.”
“I’m sorry,” Christopher said, and he meant it. He understood loss, even if his was different. “That must have been incredibly hard.”
“It was,” Isabella said simply. “But Gran made sure I never felt like I was missing out on love. She gave me enough for both parents.”
Christopher nodded slowly, understanding more about Isabella Turner in that moment than he had in all the hours they’d spent together before.
“My parents were both in the military. Gone a lot. I mainly grew up in the Bennett household, actually. My parents were good friends with Holly and Simon. Gabe and I have been brothers since we could walk.”
He paused, remembering countless dinners at the Bennett table, Holly making sure he ate vegetables and did his homework. “Holly was more of a mother to me than my own in many ways. No offense to my mom, but she wasn’t around much.”
Isabella nodded, and something passed between them. Understanding. They’d both been raised by people other than their parents. Both knew what it meant to make family where you found it, to be grateful for the people who stepped in when biology failed.
Their eyes met briefly across the car’s interior, and Christopher felt that now-familiar warmth spread through his chest.
“Turn left here,” Isabella said, breaking the moment. “Third house on the right.”
“So is Turner your married name?” Christopher asked, curious. He’d been wondering since this morning when she’d mentioned her ex-husband.
Isabella’s expression hardened slightly. “No. I dumped my married name the moment my ex dumped me. His name isn’t even on Maddy’s birth certificate.”
“That was wise,” Christopher said, meaning it.
Isabella’s eyes flashed, and he caught a glimpse of the fire beneath her usual gentle demeanor.
“Yes, it certainly made it a lot easier getting her into school and traveling without having to always get his consent.” She snorted softly.
“Can you imagine? Apparently, he’s all over the world. That would have been a disaster.”
“I can imagine,” Christopher said quietly, understanding the subtext. Her ex had abandoned them, left when Isabella needed him most, and she’d made sure he couldn’t use legal ties to continue causing problems.
“Turner is my family name,” Isabella continued, her voice softening.
“My father’s family. I wanted Maddy to have a connection to him even though she never knew him.
” She paused. “My grandmother, she was my mother’s mother, Bella Mariotti, Italian and big on family.
The minute my father married my mother, he became my grandmother’s son.
And she did everything she could to keep my mother’s and his memory alive for me. I try to do the same for Maddy.”
Christopher felt something shift in his chest at her words. This woman had been through so much, had raised her daughter alone, had built a life through sheer determination and love. And she was still so kind, still so generous with her time and energy for everyone around her.
“This is it,” Isabella said, pointing to a cute three-bedroom cottage right on the beachfront.
Christopher pulled into the driveway and killed the engine, taking a moment to appreciate the house.
It wasn’t large, but it was utterly charming.
White siding with blue shutters that would catch the sunlight during the day.
Christmas lights were strung along the roofline and around the windows, and a wreath hung on the front door.
The small front yard featured native plants that could handle the salt air, and he could see that the deck wrapped around the side facing the ocean.
He loved it the moment he saw it. It was exactly what he would have imagined a seaside family cottage should be.
“Would you like to come in for hot chocolate?” Isabella asked as she unbuckled her seatbelt. She seemed slightly nervous, and Christopher found it endearing.
“I’d love to,” he said, and meant it more than he probably should.
The girls were already scrambling out of the back seat, Maddy grabbing Trinity’s hand. “Come on, I’ll show you my room!”
Isabella unlocked the front door, and Christopher noticed she had several locks. More than seemed necessary for a safe neighborhood like this. The observation filed itself away in his mind alongside the jumpiness from that morning and the fear he’d seen flash across her face.
They stepped inside, and the interior was as charming as the exterior.
Coastal décor dominated, but it wasn’t overdone.
Blues and whites created a calming atmosphere.
The furniture looked comfortable and well-loved.
Family photos covered the walls, and a Christmas tree stood in the living room corner, decorated with obvious care.
The whole place smelled like cinnamon and vanilla.
It felt like home.
“Put your pajamas on and brush your teeth!” Isabella called after the girls as they raced toward what must be Maddy’s room.
“Okay!” two voices chorused back, then their footsteps and laughter faded down the hallway.
Silence fell. Isabella and Christopher stood alone in the living room. She put her purse down on the entry table, and he watched her take a breath, like she was steadying herself. She closed the front door and turned the lock.
“Kitchen’s this way,” she said, leading him through the living room.
Christopher followed, taking in the open-concept space.
The kitchen flowed into a small dining area on one side.
The kitchen itself had been updated but retained the cottage’s charm.
White cabinets and butcher-block counters that showed years of loving use.
Large glass doors led to the deck he’d seen from outside, and beyond that, he could see the ocean.
Moonlight played across the waves, creating shifting patterns of silver and shadow.
A dining table was positioned to take full advantage of the view, with four chairs arranged around it. The whole space felt cozy and intimate in the best possible way.
“This is awesome,” Christopher said, walking farther into the room and looking around with genuine appreciation. He pointed to the glass doors. “May I?”
Isabella smiled as she began preparing something at the counter. “Of course.”