Page 66 of Worth the Heat
“Ready as I’ll ever be. Camila, don’t you need to go potty?” Isabella asks, and Camila gives her a smile.
“I don’t anymore. Are there kids here? Do they have pets? When can I call you Mommy? I’m hungry. Can you do the fweshold thing so we can eat?” Camila chatters on, completely unaware of how she just rocked Isabella.
“Oh, yeah,” Dominic says casually. “Sebastian has a daughter.”
I see Isabella’s mom kneel down, beckoning Camila to come to her. She whispers quietly to Camila, then takes her hand and walks her inside. Meanwhile, Isabella is silently crying.
“Baby, talk to me,” I whisper. “Good or bad tears?”
“Happy tears, I promise,” she stammers. “Is it okay that I think I fell for your daughter before I let myself fall for you?”
My heart bursts wide open as I pull her into my embrace. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Alright, let’s go. The food is getting cold.” That was definitely Nick Santo, the patriarch of the family. He has whatever the male version of resting bitch face is, and his current frown is rivaling that constant expression from the Jeff Dunham character, Walter.
“You ready?” I ask my girl, and she nods. “How do we do this?”
“So far, the girls have carried best in a piggyback stance.”
God. I outweigh Isabella by at least fifty pounds, and I’ve got six or seven inches in height. “Are we allowed to be right next to the door so you really only have to take one step?”
“Yes, but if you fall back out of the doorway, it doesn’t count. I’d prefer to get a few steps in before I drop you,” she teases.
“Can you try to not drop me?” I murmur.
“I’ll do my best.”
Standing behind Isabella, I watch as she moves her hair over one shoulder, and I notice what appears to be the corner of a piece of Saniderm, the bandage that is used to cover new tattoos. I’ve studied every inch of this body, and there isn’t one speck of ink anywhere. Touching the corner, I whisper, “You got something for me, didn’t you?”
I see her gulp as she nods. “You and Camila.”
I groan. “Goddamn, baby. I can’t get hard right now.”
“You didn’t have to ask me about it!” she hisses, as I wrap my arms around her shoulders, linking them at the base of her throat. “Give me a knee. You have a tattoo for me, so I figured it was only fair that I do one for you. Other knee. Honestly, I kind of loved it, and now I want to get a lot more. Is that normal?”
“Yup, totally normal,” I answer. “How do you think I got all of these? But when did this happen? Today, when you said you were at Arianna’s?”
We’re slowly moving into the house, but Isabella doesn’t stop. “Yes. I’m sorry for lying, but I wanted to surprise you. And all of your tattoos have meaning. They’re poetic. I want mine to be too.”
The closer we get to the living room, the more I’m wondering what the tattoo is. Pulling at her shirt, I’m able to maneuver it to uncover the shoulder tattoo. It’s an outlined circle, with half in script so small I can’t read it. “Is that an orange?”
“Yes.”
Holy fucking shit.
Forcing my legs out of her hands, I drop to the ground. Hands on her shoulders, I whirl her around. “Did you get an orange for me? Because I call youNaranja?”
She nods. “But the shape of the orange has dates along the edges.”
“What dates?”
Isabella’s eyes soften as she smiles up at me. “Your birthday.Camila’s birthday. The day I met Camila. The day you kissed me. And the day I realized that I’m in love with you.”
Pulling her shirt down, I squint at the small writing, and time stops.
3.25 12.12 6.18 7.02 9.13
The world ceases to exist. The entire football team of Santos and Garcias roaming around Isabella’s childhood home fade into the background as she slides her arms around my waist. “You love me?”
