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“She’s going to stay here for a while to take care of you,” he explains.
Sophie’s eyes flare. She presses Beatrice against her chest. “I want Sabella to take care of me.”
I open my mouth to set her at ease, but Angelo beats me to it.
“There may be times when Sabella will be busy, for example, like this weekend,” he says. “We have to attend a dinner in a different city. Heidi will keep you company until Sabella gets back.”
“No.” Sophie stands, almost knocking her hot chocolate over. “I want to go with Sabella.”
“Sophie—” I start, but Angelo holds up a hand.
Going over, he stops in front of her. “Sometimes, we have to attend evening functions that are for adults only. I promise Sabella will be back.” He crouches down, putting them on eye level. “If you like, you can call Sabella on Heidi’s phone every day.”
Biting her lip, Sophie dips her head.
“Heidi will take good care of you,” I say, pushing to my feet. “You don’t have to worry. She’s a very nice lady.”
“Do you like her?” Sophie asks.
I smile. “Very much.”
“We’re leaving on Friday, and we’ll be back by Sunday,” Angelo says. “The weekend will pass quickly, especially if you help Heidi with all the baking she has planned.”
“Will you come back, Sabella?” Sophie asks in a small voice.
“Of course I will.” I go around the table and pull her into a hug. “Like Mr. Russo said, I’ll be back before you know it.”
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.
