Chapter 10 - THE DAY SOFIA CALLED ME DADDY
Sofia turned four in May.
I planned a birthday party.
According to Elena, I planned a military invasion disguised as a birthday party.
“Why are there two hundred balloons?”
“Children like balloons.”
“Twelve children are coming.”
“Then they each get several.”
“Why is there a pony?”
“Sofia likes ponies.”
“She has a pony.”
“This is another pony.”
“Dominic.”
I reconsidered.
The second pony left.
The magician stayed.
The cake was enormous.
Sofia wore a pink dress.
Miss Rose received a matching ribbon.
The entire Moretti mansion became something it had never been.
Loud.
Children ran through halls once occupied only by armed men and whispered conversations.
One little boy spilled juice on a Persian rug worth forty thousand dollars.
Marco froze.
I handed the child a towel.
“Try not to drown the rug.”
Marco stared at me afterward.
“What?”
“You’ve changed.”
“I know.”
“It’s disturbing.”
“Go away.”
He smiled.
Carlo came.
Carefully.
He kept distance from Sofia at first.
She noticed.
“Why you sad?”
Carlo blinked.
“I’m not.”
“You face sad.”
Apparently she had inherited that phrase permanently.
Carlo crouched.
“My father did something bad to you.”
Sofia frowned.
“Elena,” I called quietly.
She joined.
Carlo looked at Sofia.
“I’m sorry.”
Sofia studied him.
Then offered him half a cookie.
“Okay.”
Adults spend years debating forgiveness.
Children sometimes decide in three seconds and one cookie.
That evening, after guests left, Sofia opened gifts.
Books.
Clothes.
Toys.
Too many things.
Then she opened mine.
A small silver locket.
Inside were two photographs.
Elena.
And Sofia.
The other side was empty.
Sofia frowned.
“Who go here?”
I swallowed.
“You decide.”
She looked at me.
Then pointed.
“You.”
My throat closed.
Elena turned away, crying.
Sofia climbed into my lap.
“Dommy picture.”
“I’ll put one in.”
“Daddy picture.”
Time stopped.
Elena froze.
Marco, standing near the doorway, looked away.
I stared at Sofia.
“What did you say?”
She suddenly looked uncertain.
“Daddy?”
My heart broke open.
I had been called boss.
Don.
Mr. Moretti.
Sir.
Monster.
Killer.
No word had ever frightened me like that.
Elena knelt beside us.
“Sofia, sweetheart, you know Dominic isn’t your biological daddy.”
“I know.”
She pointed at me.
“My Dommy daddy.”
Elena looked at me.
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to.”
My voice broke.
I held Sofia.
“If your mama says it’s okay.”
Sofia immediately looked at Elena.
“Mama?”
Elena was sobbing.
“Yes.”
Sofia hugged my neck.
“Daddy.”
I cried.
Actually cried.
In front of Marco.
He never mentioned it.
Smart man.
Later, after Sofia slept, Elena and I sat outside.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“She may mean it forever.”
“I hope she does.”
“You understand what it means?”
“Yes.”
“School forms.”
“Yes.”
“Doctors.”
“Yes.”
“Every nightmare.”
“Yes.”
“Teenage years.”
I frowned.
“Let’s not get carried away.”
She laughed.
Then I reached into my pocket.
Elena stopped laughing.
“Dominic.”
I placed the ring on the table.
“I’ve had this for four months.”
She stared.
“I didn’t want to ask too soon.”
“You asked in the hospital.”
“That didn’t count.”
“It absolutely counted.”
“I was medicated.”
“You denied that.”
“I reconsidered.”
She smiled through tears.
I stood.
Then knelt.
“No gunshot this time.”
“Improvement.”
“No kidnapping.”
“Excellent.”
“No war.”
“Strong start.”
I took her hand.
“Elena Alvarez.”
Her lips trembled.
“I spent most of my life believing family was blood, obligation, and fear.”
I looked toward the house.
“Sofia taught me it’s who waits in the foyer.”
Elena cried harder.
“You taught me it’s who tells me when I’m wrong.”
“That’s a full-time job.”
“I know.”
I smiled.
“I don’t know what a good husband looks like.”
Her expression softened.
“But I know what I want to become.”
I opened the box.
“Will you let me spend the rest of my life learning with you?”
She laughed through tears.
“Yes.”
I froze.
“Yes?”
“Yes, Dominic.”
I stood and kissed her.
From an upstairs window came a tiny scream.
“WEDDING CAKE!”
We looked up.
Sofia stood behind the glass.
Elena laughed against my chest.
“She was listening.”
“Security problem.”
“Your daughter.”
I smiled.
May you like
My daughter.
“Yes.”
