Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
She wraps her thin arms around my waist, holding on as if she never wants to let go.
I catch Angelo’s gaze when he straightens, my heart squeezing with compassion and worry for the little girl.
Pulling away to look at her, I ask, “Are you hungry?”
She loosens her hold on me and shows me the doll. “Beatrice is very hungry. Look how flat her stomach is.”
Angelo’s lips quirk.
I stifle a laugh. “Shall we see what Mr. Russo brought for dinner?”
He stiffens. “There’s no need to be so formal. My niece can call me Angelo.”
“Angelo,” Sophie says as if testing the name on her tongue. “Uncle Angelo?”
He ruffles her hair. “Either uncle or Angelo is fine.”
Escaping the intense gaze he locks on me, I go to the counter and unpack the bags. Sophie helps to put the meat and vegetables in the fridge while Angelo watches with his arms crossed over his broad chest.
I do my best to ignore how his quiet observation unnerves me as I start dinner. He offers to set the table when I usher Sophie upstairs for a bath. By the time she’s clean and dressed in another one of my outfits, the salmon and zucchini are cooked.
Sophie talks up a storm during the meal, telling us how she knows the edible wild berries from the poisonous ones.
“My brothers fish too,” she tells Angelo. “Trout in the river and other fish in the sea.”
“What about you?” he asks. “Do you like fishing?”
She shakes her head. “Beatrice is scared of water. She won’t go in the river or the sea, so we stay on the shore.”
I’m surprised at how good Angelo is at making conversation with Sophie. He’s different when he’s talking to her, a lot more relaxed than he usually is. It never occurred to me that he may like children. I suppose it’s because he rarely shows his softer side when he’s with me. For me, he reserves his much darker feelings.
After dinner, Sophie and Angelo load the dishwasher while I tidy the kitchen and put the spare bedding in the linen closet.
When Sophie has brushed her teeth, Angelo and I tuck her into bed.
“Beatrice wants to watch more television,” Sophie says as I place the doll next to her on the pillow.
Angelo pulls the covers up to her chin. “Tomorrow. Little people need their sleep, because that’s when they grow.”
She turns her face to me. “Is that true, Sabella?”
“Yes.” I switch on the lamp. “That’s why it’s important that you sleep enough.”
She sighs. “All right. I’ll sleep so that I can grow tall like you, Bella.”
I tap her nose. “We’re all different. You’ll grow as tall as you’re supposed to be.”
She wrinkles her nose. “How tall is that?”
Angelo grins. “It’s hard to say, but a doctor can make a calculated guess based on your weight, age, and a few other factors. Would you like one to visit to see how tall you may get?”
She takes her arms from under the covers and crosses her hands over her chest. “Will it hurt?”
“No,” he says. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“Can we go tomorrow?”
“I can do better than that,” he says. “I’ll arrange for a doctor to come here.”
“Will he measure Beatrice too?”
“Yes.” Angelo kisses her forehead. “Now, go to sleep.”
“Goodnight, Sophie,” I say, following Angelo to the door.
“Angelo?” Sophie says. When he pauses in the doorframe, she continues. “Are you sleeping here too?”
“Not tonight,” he says with a smile.
Sophie frowns. “Sabella?”
“Yes, Sophie?”
“If you and Angelo are married, why don’t you live in the same house?”
Not knowing how to answer that question, I look at Angelo.
He replies with a blank expression. “I work a lot, and sometimes, I have to work very late. It makes more sense that I sleep at the big house.”
“Will you work less someday?” she asks.
“That’s enough questions for one night, young lady,” he says. “Sweet dreams.”
He steps aside for me to exit and closes the door behind him.
For a tense moment, we face each other in silence.
Lowering his voice, he says, “I should go.”
“Can we talk first?”
He purses his lips.
I add quickly, “About Sophie.”
He turns on his heel and walks downstairs to the kitchen, leaving me to follow. He left only the lights under the cupboards on. The room is basked in a soft glow. A memory of the night I caught Colin and May kissing in the light of the fridge in her kitchen jumps into my head. I hope they’re happy. Colin deserves nothing less.
Angelo takes two glasses from the cupboard and pours wine from the open bottle. “I instructed Fabien to fit the spare room out for Sophie. It’ll look more like a child’s room when he’s done.”
“That’s a good idea,” I say, accepting the glass he offers me. “It will help her feel more at home.”
He takes a sip of wine, watching me from over the rim. “Her clothes should arrive tomorrow.”