Page 21 of Worth the Heat
“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’dexplained 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 likeAbuelita? What about making cookies? Daddy makes the worst cookies. Uncle Luca says they’re like hockey pucks.”
“Uncle Luca?” Isabella asks softly, her eyesfinding 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 yourAbuelitamay 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.”
