Chapter 12 - A Father’s First Real Day — Leo’s Little Hands in Mine
The move from Little Havana to Coconut Grove took only three days. Camilla
didn't want a moving company handling her personal belongings, so she, Aunt
Laura, and I packed the cardboard boxes ourselves.
When we carried the last box into the sunlit living room of the new house, Leo
let out a shriek of delight. He ran across the polished hardwood floors,
skidding in his socks, and flung open the French doors that led out to the
emerald-green lawn.
“Look at the big tree, Mama! Look!” he yelled, pointing up at the ancient banyan
tree whose branches spread across the garden like protective arms.
Camilla stood by my side on the covered patio, holding a mug of warm tea. She
looked around at the airy rooms, the modern kitchen with marble countertops, and
the quiet neighborhood where birds sang instead of the blaring traffic of 8th
Street.
“It feels like a dream,” she whispered softly. “I keep waiting for someone to
knock on the door and tell me I don't belong here.”
“You belong here more than anyone,” I said, stepping beside her and looking down
at her hands, which were slowly healing from months of harsh cleaning chemicals.
“You built a sanctuary for our son with nothing but your bare hands and your
courage. Everything here is just the world catching up to what you deserved all
along.”
She turned to face me, the afternoon sunlight catching the golden flecks in her
hazel eyes. “Lucas... what happens now between us?”
“Whatever you want,” I answered honestly. “I’m not asking for a rushed
reconciliation. I’m not asking you to forget the pain I caused. I just want the
chance to take you out to dinner. To learn who you are today. To be the partner
you should have had five years ago.”
Camilla looked out at the garden where Leo was chasing a yellow butterfly across
the grass. A soft, genuine warmth spread across her face.
May you like
“Dinner sounds like a good start,” she said softly, her fingers gently brushing
against mine.
