Page 63 of The Deal

“Dad and I always bring our catch back, and Carmella cooks it up for dinner.”

I clear my throat as I push off the wall. “Are you guys almost ready? The helicopter is due to arrive any minute.”

“Helicopter!” Chloe squeaks as her head snaps in my direction.

Did I neglect to tell her that part?

“Don’t worry,” Giovanni replies. “I’ll hold your hand if you’re scared.”

I settle back into my seat and slide the headphones over my ears. Giovanni has already given Chloe the rundown on why we need to wear them, and once they both put them on and strap themselves in, his little hand reached for hers.

He’s currently looking up at her in awe. I think my son has a crush on my girl, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.

I’m a tad amused and a little proud, but I’m pretty sure there’s some jealousy mixed in there as well. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make my boy happy, but I draw the line here. Chloe Carmichael ismine… she belongs to me, and he needs to accept that.

The chopper landed on the purpose-built helipad at the rear of my property. I use it frequently, not just for flying between my cabin and here, but also to visit my family in Griffith. The road trip home takes six hours, but by air, it’s only two.

Our flight to the Hunter Valley is around forty-five minutes, so we land in no time. Giovanni talked to Chloe through the headphones the entire way. I was feeling a little left out, to be honest. It’s usually me who gets his undivided attention.

“I think I got one,” Chloe squeals, jumping to her feet.

“Way to go, Chlo.”Chlo?A few hours with her, and he’s already converted to nicknames. “Hold this, Dad,” he adds, handing me his rod and moving to her side. “Jerk the line back to set the hook, like I taught you.” She does as he instructs, and when he follows that up with, “Good girl,” I bark out a laugh.

It’s comical that a five-year-old is calling a grown woman a“Good girl”. He’s basically parroting everything I said to him the first time he caught a fish, except the girl part, obviously.

I love that he’s retaining all the information I’m teaching him. His nanny, Mimi, does a good job with him, but his mother is useless. All she cares about is herself.

He continues to coach Chloe as she reels it in, and once the fish breaks the surface, he runs for the net. I just sit back and watch the two of them together.

Giovanni moves to the edge, ready to scoop it up. “Be careful,” Chloe says. “Don’t fall in.”

“I can swim,” he replies. “Dad taught me.”

“Still …”

“Relax, Chlo. I’ve done this heaps of times; I’m a pro.”

I find myself chuckling again. He’s like an old man trapped in a little boy’s body. I suppose only having adults around will do that to you.

I’m looking forward to him making friends his own age next year when he starts school.

When Giovanni leans over the edge of the deck, Chloe’s eyes dart to me. “Should you help him?”

I lift one shoulder. “He knows what he’s doing.”

She rolls her eyes, and when he lunges forward, she takes one hand off the rod and fists it in the back of his T-shirt. There’s that maternal instinct I was talking about. My son could benefit greatly by having someone like her in his life.

“Got it,” Giovanni states. “And it’s a beauty too. What do you reckon, Dad?” he asks, turning the net in my direction.

“Good size bream,” I answer with a nod. I lean forward in my seat and slide mine and Giovanni’s fishing rods into the rod holders I installed along the edge of the deck. “Do you need help with the hook?”

“Nah, I’ve got it, Dad.” I don’t particularly like him dealing with the hook while the fish is thrashing around, but he’ll never learn if I keep doing it for him. “He’s a slippery little sucker,” he says, glancing up at Chloe.

This time she laughs. “I can see that.”

When he finally gets the hook out, he lifts the fish and holds it towards her. “You have to kiss it,” he tells her.

She rears back. “I’m not kissing that thing.”

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