Page 53 of Christmas in Paradise

Seb’s ears go pink. “I told you I’d finish dinner, Ma.”

“You were taking too long. I thought you went to take the dog out, not do your silly stunts.” She hangs her apron on a hook, then stares daggers at Seb.

For the first time, I notice he’s got on an apron too, and I wonder if he was helping with dinner. I assumed he didn’t know how to cook.

“Shouldn’t you go?” he says to Gia. “You’re going to be late for line-dancing.”

And now I notice Gia is wearing a pearl-buttoned shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots. She looks adorable, but she’s also not dressed for a quiet evening at home. I don’t see Stella anywhere either.

So my suspicions about Seb making this a surprise date were on point.

I should feel more bothered than I do, but my brain is too busy replaying Seb’s hood stunt.

“You didn’t answer my question. Where’d you learn to do that?” I ask again.

Seb pulls his apron over his head, but he can’t hide the color in his cheeks.

“Too much TikTok,” Gia answers with a wave of her hand, which I think is her signature move.

“What your daddy’s name, Misshia?” Charly interrupts, tugging Gia’s hand.

I don’t break eye contact with Seb.

“My daddy? Antony. Why do you want to know, bambolina?” Gia answers.

Charly walks to Seb and tugs his hand. “Your name Tony?”

He glances down at her, “What? No. I’m Seb. Remember?”

“TikTok?” I ask.

His eyes dart back to mine and his face grows pinker, so I let him off the hook. For now.

Gia laughs. “Sebastian isn’t my daddy, Charly, he’s my son.” Then she pinches Seb’s cheek and raises her voice to preschool-teacher octave. “My little boy.”

“Oh! Sebby! I member!” Charly squeals, then says in her three-year-old L-less way, “He’s little big boy.”

“He’s all grown up, but he’ll always be my little boy,” Gia answers her, emphasizing the sound of each L.

“Time to go, Ma.” Seb grabs her by the shoulders and walks her to the mudroom door, grabbing her purse from the table and handing it to her as they go.

“Dinner is almost done. As soon as the cheese is a little brown,” she says as he guides her out the door.

When he comes back into the kitchen, he walks straight to the oven without looking at me. He peeks inside and declares the dish needs “a few more minutes.”

Still avoiding my eyes, he picks up a plastic dish with noodles in it. “Do you think Charly would like to eat right now? Or wait?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “You can ask her.”

“Oh…” With a stiff turn, he faces Charly. “Are you hungry, Charly? Do you want ziti with…” he checks the bowl. “Butter and cheese?”

“No.” she stamps her foot. “I want noodie.”

Now I break eye contact with Seb. “Charly. Be polite. Ziti is noodles.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s noodles. With butter and cheese.” Seb lowers the bowl for Charly to see.

She reaches for the bowl, but I grab her hands. “Use your manners, please.”

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