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We fall silent as I start making checklists in my head. I don’t want to walk in and change everything that’s already working well. That will create too much uncertainty and animosity. I’m young, and I lack professional experience. I’ll leave it to the team who’s already running the center. All I’d like to do is add value where possible.
I’ve been so caught up in my excitement that I haven’t noticed we crossed Bastia and are leaving the city behind.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
Angelo smiles without taking his eyes off the road. “You’ll see.”
“I thought we were going for lunch.”
“We are, just a little later.”
I turn in my seat to check how Tess is doing. She’s fallen asleep in her car seat, her curls falling around her small face. I can’t get enough of staring at her. Often, I sit next to her crib at night and just drink in her features for hours. With her dark hair, black eyes, and proud little nose, she’s Angelo’s child through and through. The only thing she inherited from me is the shape of my lips. And the beauty spot in the corner. Sometimes, like now, she looks so perfect with her rosy cheeks and her rosebud mouth that it hurts to look at her.
Angelo glances at her in the rearview mirror. “How’s she doing?”
“Sleeping,” I say with a smile, facing forward again.
He turns into a road that runs up the hill and changes gears. I home in on his large hand that grips the gearstick, on the manly veins running underneath the tanned skin and the light dusting of dark hair that disappears under the sleeve of his shirt where a new tattoo is inked.
When Tess was born, he had her name tattooed on his forearm. Long before she was conceived in Great Brak River, he added my name to the ink on his chest, right between the wolves and the letters that spell resilience.
It’s too tempting not to touch him. My head still turns dizzy at the thought that I’m the only woman who has this access to him, who can place my hand on his leg or anywhere else on his body whenever I like. I close my finger around his thigh, feeling the steely hardness of the muscles as he steps on the clutch.
He cups my hand and shoots me a smile before focusing on the road again. On the top of the hill, he pulls over and parks at a viewpoint. Lifting my hand to his lips, he kisses my knuckles before carefully putting my hand in my lap.
The wind ruffles his hair when he gets out of the car. I take in his strong body and attractive features as he comes around to get my door. He’s still dressed in a white fitted button-down shirt and the black pants that he wore to his meeting. Despite the winter temperature, he doesn’t wear a jacket. He hardly feels the cold. The shirt hints at the pecs and abs beneath. The top two buttons are open, showing the decorative border of the black ink. The tailored pants hug his narrow hips and his sculptured ass. At twenty-seven, he’s never looked more handsome or more dangerous.
He opens my door and helps me out, pulling me against him for a gentle hug and a deep kiss before putting space between us. His touch lingers on my hand, our gazes remaining connected as he finally lets me go to open the back door.
“Papa,” Tess says, rubbing her eyes and yawning.
We’re lucky that she’s such a good sleeper. She’s able to nap anywhere, and she never wakes up cranky.
“Come here, princess,” he says, unclipping her safety belt and lifting her into his arms. He plants a kiss on her cheek. “Did you have a good nap?”
“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.
