“This is delicious,” I admit after tasting the first mouthful of my chicken pasta dish. Isotta may be a nasty bitch, but she’s a fantastic cook.
“It’s yummy,” Elio agrees from his seat across the table beside his dad.
He’s a gorgeous little kid and a future heartbreaker with those big green eyes, cute dimples, smooth olive complexion, and thick, dark hair. I don’t know if Isotta resembles her dead sister or not, but I don’t see much of his mother in the little boy. He’s so much like Cristian, and he clearly takes after the paternal side of the family. I don’t know what happened to his bio parents, and though I’m curious, there’s no way I’m asking.
“Why did Auntie Isa leave? She always has dinner with us.” Elio looks expectantly at Cristian.
“She is having dinner with Carmine from now on, and Sloane will be having dinner with us.”
Elio’s nose scrunches up. “Carmine’s a poop.”
My lips fight a smile.
“That’s not very nice,” Cristian says, ruffling his son’s hair. “Your auntie is marrying him soon, and he’ll be your uncle.”
“I don’t need other uncles. I have lots and lots of them.” His arms expand, and I smile.
“Which uncle is the most fun?” I ask in between bites of the scrumptious dinner.
“Uncle Caleb!” he shrieks. “He flies me like I’m Superman, and he plays guns and wrestling with me, and he’s awesome.”
“Caleb is one of my best friends,” Cristian explains. “He’s basically a big kid, but Elio loves him.”
Elio pops a piece of chopped-up chicken into his mouth. “I love Uncle Zumo too,” he says over his food. “He’s funny.”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full. Remember.” Cristian rubs some tomato sauce from his son’s cheek. “It’s rude, and you could choke. Chew first. Talk after.”
“Okay, Daddy,” he says while still chewing his food.
I can’t help grinning. He’s such a little cutie. “Another friend or family?” I ask, meeting Cristian’s attentive gaze.
He sets his silverware down on his empty plate. “Friend. My sister Sabina is my only other sibling. She lives in North Carolina with her husband, but we rarely see them.”
“That’s a shame.” I finish my dinner and reach for my glass of water.
“Yeah. My friends are more like my family.”
“I look forward to meeting them.” His lips twitch, and I almost choke on my water. “I didn’t mean for that to sound…I, um, just meant—”
“It’s okay, Sloane. You will meet them in due course. I have a few things to update you on after Elio is in bed.”
“What things?” Elio pipes up. His mouth and chin are covered in sauce, and I swear there’s more dinner on the table than on his plate or in his belly.
“Grown-up things, nosey.” Cristian boops his son on the nose.
“I’m getting bigger.” Elio puffs out his chest. “I’m almost a grown-up.”
Cristian chuckles. “Don’t be in such a rush to grow up, son. Trust me when I say things are much easier when you’re a kid.”
“For sure,” I readily agree, standing with my plate and silverware in hand.
“You’re really tall,” Elio says, peering up at me.
“I am.” I lift Cristian’s plate. “I was one of the tallest girls in my high school, and I got to play on the basketball team.”
“I love basketball!” Elio almost bursts with excitement. “Will you play with me?” His eyes are brimming with happiness.
“Sure will.”
“Yay!” He bounces around in his seat. “Can we go tomorrow, please, Daddy?”
“We can go to one of the courts tomorrow evening,” Cristian says, smiling at his son before he directs his attention to me. “Elio attends a weekly youth basketball clinic, and I try to take him to one of the courts in Central Park or the local indoor court, if it’s cold, at least once a week, so he can practice.” He stands. “Let me get those.” Before I can argue, he takes the stacked plates from my hands.
“It’s gonna be so much fun,” Elio proclaims before popping another piece of chicken into his mouth. I sit down beside him while Cristian is in the kitchen, and Elio babbles away, in between eating, filling me in on all the things he likes to do.
“All done, bud?” Cristian says a few minutes later, materializing at the table. He’s wiping his wet hands on a towel.
Elio nods, patting his stomach. “My tummy is full.”
Removing a wipe from the box in the center of the table, I take his little hands in mine as Cristian leans down to pluck up his son’s mostly empty plate. “I’m just gonna clean you up because someone got tomato sauce everywhere,” I tease.
“’Kay.” He’s fidgety in his chair as I methodically wipe his face and hands, removing all traces of his dinner from his skin. His clothes are a different story.
“Your hands are so soft.” He runs his finger over the back of my hand.
“So are yours.” I smile at him.
“You’re really pretty,” he says. “Like a princess.” He looks over my shoulder. “Isn’t she, Daddy?”
“Very pretty.”
Cristian’s deep tone does funny things to my insides, and my cheeks warm. “You will have all the girls swooning someday, Elio.”
“Girls are gross,” he says, and Cristian chuckles. “Except my aunties and you.”
“High praise indeed,” Cristian says with amusement underscoring his tone.
“Can Sloane give me my bath?”
“Of course.”
“Yay!” He jumps off his seat, grabs my hand, and pulls me up from my chair. “Come on, Slowpoke Sloane.”
I burst out laughing as his small, soft hand clamps around mine. This child is a hoot.
“Be gentle, Elio, and be nice.” Cristian drills him with a warning look.
“I’m always gentle and nice, Daddy.” He waggles his brows.
“Lead the way, my little prince,” I say, almost tripping over my feet as my energetic charge moves full steam ahead.
Before dinner, after I’d unpacked my things, Cristian and Elio gave me a tour of my new home. I’ve never lived anywhere this fancy or had such a large bedroom to myself. If I wasn’t shitting myself over the things I’m going to have to do, I’d probably enjoy living here and looking after Elio.
We have to pass through the kitchen to get to the other side of the large penthouse, where the bedrooms and bathrooms are, and as we walk by, I notice Cristian has fully cleaned up, which is a bit of a surprise. I watch him walk over to the sink with Elio’s plate, silverware, and our glasses. “I’ll do those when Elio is in bed,” I call out. While Cristian explained he has a housekeeper who comes in a couple of times a week, it’s part of my job to clean up after activities and cook meals on days she’s not here.
“I’ve got it,” he says, depositing the dishes in the sink and walking after us.
Elio races into his bedroom to get undressed, and I help him while Cristian starts the bath.
“These are my favorite pajamas.” Elio thrusts the blue, black, and green top and pants at me.
“Cool.” They have rockets, planets, the moon, clouds, and the words “Blast off to bed” on them.
“I’m gonna be an asonaut when I grow up,” he says, taking my hand.
“An astronaut?” I say as I fold his pajamas and place them on the end of his bed.
“That’s what I said.” He looks at me like duh, and my lips curve at the corners. “I’m gonna fly into space and get moonrock to bring home to my daddy and Auntie Isa,” he explains as we walk from his bedroom to the large family bathroom.
“Wow, they’re lucky.”
“I’ll get some for you too,” he adds when we enter the bathroom, and my heart melts. He’s such an outgoing little boy and so affectionate. I’m already completely enamored with him.
The tub is half full, and Cristian is pouring some bubble bath into the water.
“That is very kind, and I’d love some.”
“I’ll make you a deal,” he says, and Cristian chuckles. “You play basketball with me, and I’ll get you moonrock.”
“You strike a hard bargain, buster,” I say over a grin as Cristian lifts his son into the tub. “But you got yourself a deal.” I lift my hand and we high-five.
“Where’s Quack-Quack?” Elio asks, running his hands through the water.
“Here he is.” Cristian hands him a large yellow rubber duck. “He won’t take a bath without it,” he whispers to me. His warm breath fans across the side of my cheek, heating my skin, and his whispered words in my ear send little tremors racing through my body.
“Noted,” I say, pleased my voice comes out even.
“He has a touch of eczema,” Cristian adds, handing me a large container. “That is shampoo and a body wash for sensitive skin, and it’s the only one I’ve found that doesn’t aggravate him.”
“I’ll be sure to only use this.”
Cristian sits on the closed toilet seat, staying close by but not interfering as I bathe his son. After Elio is clean, he lifts him out, bundling him in a large fluffy white towel. “Daddy?” Elio says, stifling a yawn. “Can Sloane read me my story tonight?”
“If that’s what you want.”
Elio lifts his tiny palm to his dad’s cheek. “You won’t be sad?”
“Of course not, silly.” He peppers Elio’s face with kisses and Elio squeals, wriggling in his dad’s lap. “I usually read him his bedtime story,” Cristian explains, looking over at me. “But I’m happy to hand over the reins tonight if you don’t mind.”
“If you don’t, I don’t.”
His eyes probe mine, and a spark ignites the space between us. “I’ll just get him settled,” he says, standing. “And then I’ll leave you to it.”
I trail Cristian into Elio’s bedroom, watching as he dries his son and helps him into his pajamas. Cristian tucks him in and leans down to kiss his brow.
“Love you, Daddy.” Elio wraps his arm around Cristian’s neck. “To the moon and back.”
“Me too, buddy.” Cristian holds his son close, and my heart is equally swelling and cracking.
The relationship they have is beautiful, and I’ve only caught a glimpse of it. What the hell has Cristian done that the cartel wants to kill him, and how am I going to go through with this knowing I’ll be depriving a kid of his father for the second time in his short life?
