I hold her close, breathing in the scent of her hair. This little girl who's stolen my heart.
"You're welcome, my sweet girl."
Isabella is standing in the doorway, her hand over her mouth. When I look at her, I see tears in her eyes.
Happy tears, I hope.
"There's more," I tell Elena. "Look out the window."
She runs over and gasps again. "I can see the chickens! There's a spot for the chickens!"
"We'll build the coop right there. So, you can see them from your room. Watch them every day."
"This is the best room ever!" She bounces on the bed, testing it. "And it's so soft!"
"Your mama's room is next door," I say. "Connected by a bathroom. So, she's always close if you need her."
Isabella looks at me sharply. "My room?"
"I thought—" I clear my throat. "I thought you might want your own space. At least at first. Until you're comfortable being here with me. I didn’t want to pressure you."
She's quiet for a moment. "Can I see it?"
I show her the room next to Elena's. It's smaller than mine but still spacious. A comfortable bed. Windows with views of the bay. A bathroom connecting to Elena's room.
Everything she might need to feel independent.
"This is your own space," I say quietly. "No pressure. No expectations. Just—yours."
"And where's your room?"
"Down the hall. The big master suite." I hesitate. "But Isabella, I'm not—I'm not assuming anything. I know this is a lot. I know you need time to adjust. I wanted to give you your own space. A place that's just yours."
She looks at me for a long moment. Then she steps close and kisses me softly.
"Thank you," she whispers. "For thinking of that. For not just assuming."
"I love you. That means respecting what you need."
"I love you too." She glances back at Elena's room, where we can hear her still exclaiming over everything. "She seems happy."
"She's resilient. Kids are."
"I hope so." Isabella touches my face. "And what about you? How are you doing with all of this?"
"All of what?"
"Bringing us here. Turning your bachelor villa into a home with chickens and princess bedspreads and a three-year-old."
I think about it. About how my life has changed. How yesterday I was planning an operation and today I'm arranging chicken coops.
How I went from being Don Rossi, cold and untouchable, to the man who promises bedtime stories and swimming lessons.
"I've never been better," I say honestly. "This—you two—this is what I want. What I've always wanted without knowing it."
"Even the chickens?"
"Even the chickens." I pull her close. "Especially the chickens. Because they make Elena happy. And when she's happy, you're happy. And when you're happy—" I kiss her forehead. "That's all that matters to me."
