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“You’re my uncle,” Sophie says with pride.
“I am.” Angelo smiles at her and returns his attention to Johan. “You can make this difficult or you can let me help to take care of you. The choice is yours. Either way, you’re not going back to that camp, and you’re not running wild in the open any longer. It’s not safe or what’s best for you.”
“How do you know what’s best for me?” Johan asks with a bitter expression.
“I know what’s not good for you. How about we take this one day at a time and figure it out as we go? Aren’t you tired of being cold and hungry, of having nowhere to sleep at night?”
“It’s really nice here with Sabella, Johan,” Sophie says, laying her small hand on his. “Beatrice loves it.”
Sniffing, he shoots her a sidelong glance. “I s’pose we can give it a try.”
“That’s my man,” Angelo says, picking up his cake fork. “What I can promise you is that I only want you to be happy.”
“Why?” Johan asks. “Why do you give a fu—a flying fish about what happens to us?”
“Seeing you safe would’ve made my mother happy,” Angelo says with so much conviction I don’t doubt his intentions for a minute. “Now finish that cake. I want to go look for your brothers before dark.”
Johan eats three slices before he leans back and rubs his stomach. “I’m as stuffed as a pig.”
“Saying that you’ve had enough will do, thank you very much,” I say, clearing the plates.
“Yum.” Sophie licks icing off her spoon. “That was sooo good. Wasn’t it, Johan?”
He only grunts.
“I’ll wrap up the rest of the food and the cake for your brothers,” I say. “Please help me take the dirty dishes to the kitchen.”
Sophie takes two of the empty dishes, eager to please me, but Johan doesn’t budge.
“You heard her,” Angelo says. “Everyone eats, everyone helps.”
“Oh, for fu—” Johan swallows the rest of his words and pushes to his feet.
“You can take the casserole dish,” I say. “It’s too heavy for Sophie.”
He grabs the dish and drags his feet after Sophie to the kitchen.
When the kids are out of earshot, Angelo says, “It may not be a good idea to let him inside the house. He probably has lice.”
“What do you want me to do? Restrict him to the garden?”
Angelo sighs. “I’ll get him cleaned up.”
I narrow my eyes, watching my husband with suspicion. “Did you know he showed up?”
He doesn’t blink. “How would I know that?”
I cross my arms. “It seems like too much of a convenient coincidence that you never visit in the day but happened to show up here just as I managed to lure Johan out of the woods.”
Curiosity sparks in his eyes. “How did you manage that?”
“Food.” I wave at the table. “Grilled chicken and chocolate cake.”
His lips quirk. “I’ve been using the wrong tactics all along.”
“Don’t you know that the path to a man’s heart runs through his stomach?”
“Is that why you’re suddenly so interested in learning how to cook?” He raises a brow. “Do you have ulterior motives where my heart is concerned?”
