Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 118965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
“Look there,” she says, pointing toward the distance.
It’s her latest two-word phrase. She uses it to pull our attention to her or if she wants the kids to play with her. When she sees a bottle of water in the fridge, she’ll say, “Look there,” which is her way of saying she’s thirsty.
Angelo’s eyes soften as he smiles at her. “What is it, princess? What do you see?”
The baby bracelet with the gold disk on which Tess’s name and date of birth are engraved catches the sunlight as she keeps her small arm stretched out, pointing toward the sea. “Look there.”
A movement in the water catches my attention. I fix my gaze on the spot. A fin whale breaks through the surface, her sleek body shining in the winter sun as she arches gracefully before diving back into the turquoise sea.
“Well done, baby,” I say. “It’s a fin whale.”
At the praise, Tess claps her hands excitedly.
The whale jumps like a dancer through the air before disappearing with a splash.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” I ask. “They normally fast in winter. Perhaps she came closer to the shore to give birth.”
“Look there, Papa,” Tess says, waving at the whale’s dark body that cuts in a sleek line through the water.
“I see, princess,” Angelo says with a mixture of pride and tenderness, but he’s not looking at the whale. He’s looking at his daughter.
Taking her small hand, he kisses her tiny palm. She giggles, shaking her arm and rattling the disk on the delicate chain. Angelo bought the bracelet when she was born. He got her the gold necklace with the medal of Saint Teresa when she turned one. Like with Sophie, Johan, Étienne, and Guillaume, he likes to spoil them, but he’s strict when it matters. He’s not just a good daddy. He’s a great daddy. No wonder the kids adore him.
The sight of the big, powerful man holding the little girl in her puffy jacket, white dress with the lace trimming, doll-sized shoes, and wool tights melts my heart. I’m so blessed and happy I have to pinch myself to be sure that this is my life and not just a dream.
Balancing Tess on his hip, he wraps an arm around my waist and draws me against him. We stand close together, admiring the view. It’s not as cliffy as his property. The rocky terrain runs down to a wide stretch of beach. Trees and bushes grow wild around the sand. The ruins of an old lighthouse stand on the highest point of the outcrop.
“This is beautiful,” I say, snuggling closer to him as a cold wind picks up from the sea.
“I thought you’d like it. It has direct beach access. We’ll just have to put up a fence and install a childproof gate as long as Tess hasn’t learned to swim.”
I look at him quickly.
Brushing a thumb over my jaw, he asks, “What do you think?”
“You want to buy it?” I ask with a start.
“There’s only a primary school in the village. With Johan entering college in September and the other kids following soon, it makes more sense to move closer. Plus, if you decide to get involved in the research center, you’ll work in Bastia too.”
“What about the old house?”
“I found an oenologist who’s interested in turning the vinegar we used to produce into a boutique wine production. We can organize wine tours at the cellar and rent out the house for events. We can still go there for weekends, but I reckon we deserve a place that’s just ours.” Tracing the seam of my lips, he adds, “A place that’s yours to design and decorate the way you like.”
The gift he offers me is enormous. He grew up in the old house. It holds a special place in his heart, but he’s right to want to give us a clean slate and a home that’s our own. The villa in Cape Town came furnished. Fabien decorated the new house. He inherited the old house and its furniture. I’ve never decorated a place of my own.
“What do you say?” he asks, caressing my cheek. “It’ll need at least nine bedrooms—one for us, Doris, each kid, and at least two for visitors because your mother will never let me book her into a hotel now that there’s a grandchild.”
I place a hand over my belly, over the secret I’ve been carrying for three months. I didn’t want to say anything until after the first trimester. Like when we expected Tess, the doctor told me there’s no reason why I shouldn’t have a healthy pregnancy, but the fear that something may go wrong is ingrained in me. I wanted to be sure.
“Sabella?” he asks, searching my eyes. “What’s the matter?” He goes from tender to protective in a second flat. “Are you feeling sick?”