Page 87 of Worth the Heat
“Well, how long does he have to grow?”
“Nine months,” I tell her solemnly.
“That’s almost a whole year! I can’t wait that long!” she screeches.
“That’s not up to us to decide, sweetheart,” Isabella coos. Already an excellent mom, and it makes me want to impregnate her tonight.
“Ugh. Fine,” Camila says with an exaggerated eye roll. She jumps down from Isabella’s lap, then skips over to where my parents and grandmother stand.
“She’s going to make the teenage years very interesting,” Isabella comments. Don’t I fucking know it.
A coupleof months into the new year, and I’m a married man.
Isabella, not surprisingly, was a nonchalant bride. Other than wanting it to be small and winter-themed, she didn’t care about much. We decided to let our mothers surprise us, and both matriarchs were up to the challenge.
Breaking from tradition, Isabella chose not to have her father walk her down the aisle. Instead, she and Camila walked hand-in-hand, in matching white dresses. They each held a bouquet, although Camila’s was much smaller. Their dresses were simple silk, with sheer sleeves, and they each wore a jeweled headband instead of a veil. Camila was positively giddy to be included, and stood happily between us as we said our vows. From that moment we returned after I proposed, she began calling Isabella her mother, and she hasn’t stopped.
Contrary to Isabella’s hopes for something small, I got her asizable diamond ring. Actually, a handful of diamonds. I intended to go with what she wanted, but as soon as I saw the ring with diamonds in the shape of a flower, I knew it had to be hers. It’s unique, just like her. Her wedding band matches the white gold of the engagement ring, but I also got her a silicone ring that matches mine for while she’s at work.
Only two months after our visit with Fernando Montoya, the Feds raided his compound. He’d mysteriously disappeared, and the trail ran cold soon thereafter.
Last week I received an envelope full of blank paper, postmarked in Montenegro. A subtle way to tell me he’s not dead yet. The following day, one hundred thousand dollars showed up in Camila’s bank account. I immediately donated it anonymously to fifteen different charities across the state of Colorado. I don’t want, or need, drug money to raise my daughter.
“Wow, it’s really coming down,” Isabella comments from the passenger seat of my truck. It’s snowing heavily in a typical Colorado spring snowstorm. Camila is staying at Luca and Hannah’s tonight, and I’m happy to have my wife to myself.
I hope it never gets old to call her my wife.
“Can we stop at the grocery store before we leave town?” Isabella asks. While I live about fifteen minutes outside of Eternity Springs, the closest stores all reside in town. In this weather, once we get home, we won’t leave again until the weather breaks.
“Sure. Do you want me to run in and get something?” I ask, turning into the parking lot for a small grocery at the edge of town.
“No, I know what I’m looking for. You’ll just buy every option of the item because you’ll second-guess what I actually want,” she teases.
“I’m being a good husband, Isabella. Giving you options,” I say defensively, but my lips tip up as I fight a grin. “I’ll comein with you.”
“No, it’s okay —” she breaks off when my phone rings.
“Shit. It’s the elementary school. It’s after school, so this can’t be good.” Isabella smiles softly at me as she opens the door. Hiking the hood of her winter coat over her head, she gingerly walks to the store entrance before stomping snow off her boots. Turning, she waves gaily at me, knowing I’m watching. I chuckle as I answer the phone.
“Mr. Garcia, this is Principal Patterson calling,” a female voice announces.
“Yes, hello.” Every interaction I’ve had with the principal so far has been no-nonsense. While she doesn’t come off as incredibly warm, I can tell she loves the children and wants them to succeed.
“Camila had some difficulty in school today, and I hope we can schedule a time to meet in person within the next week.”
“Okay? What exactly happened?” I ask.
“There was a disagreement with another student over a preferred item during indoor recess. Camila was witnessed striking the other child. While we typically operate a no-tolerance view on violence in school, we also understand there are two sides to every story. Camila has never shown any aggression in class before, but when we spoke with her, she clammed up. I’m hoping if you and your new wife attend a meeting with us, Camila will be more comfortable in telling us her side.”
“Wow. Hitting a child is incredibly out of character for her, Mrs. Patterson. I’m more than happy to sit down with you and get to the bottom of things. I’ll ask Camila about it tomorrow as well, as she is staying with her aunt and uncle tonight.”
“If you’re able to come in Monday after school, we will set aside time.”
“I’ll make it work, as will my wife.” Looking up, I see Isabella walking back to the car with a small bag. When she gets in the car, I try to see what she needed. “What’s that?”
“Nothing,” she replies quickly. “What was the principal calling for?”
“We have to meet with her Monday afternoon. Apparently Camila hit a kid today at school.”
