Dad shrugs. "He didn't say and I didn't ask. Seemed like it might be important, though, so I don't want it to slip my mind."
He gets up and ambles, albeit more briskly, into the house in search of the bottle, leaving me behind to wonder what the hell my husband is up to.
CHAPTER FOUR
Olivia
Isabella is flushed with delight when she comes running down to the house almost two hours later, Cash loping behind her, grinning from ear to ear.
"I got to see the llama, too!" she pants, coming to a screeching halt when her face is about three inches from my nose. Her eyes are flashing brightly, glittering happily, and the enthusiasm from them washes over me. I'm immediately sucked into her excitement, forgetting for a moment the tumultuous circumstances that surround this little girl.
"You did? Did he spit at you?"
Jose doesn't spit. He's basically too lazy, but I'm sure Cash told her that he might. He loves telling people that.
"No, but I almost ran away because I thought he was gonna!"
"I told you I would protect you from him, didn't I?" Cash asks, flopping down into a chair at my side. His smile is mischievous and his gaze, fixed on Isabella, is becoming more and more adoring.
He was made to be a father, I think not for the first time.
"Yeah, you did," she replies, her equally adoring eyes crinkling at the corners as she watches him.
"Are you getting hungry?"
Her gaze flies back to mine and widens. "Yes!" she cries, leaning in and kissing my cheek. I sit perfectly still as she then zips away from me to fling open the screen door and bolt into the house. As much as I resent her mother, and as much as it still sometimes hurts me that I wasn't the one to give Cash his first child, it's hard not to fall for Isabella. She's smart and sweet and it's obvious that she has a lot of love to give. Whether because her mother is semi-absentee or because she's just loving by nature, I don't know. But either way, I'm falling under her spell, too.
I glance at Cash, who I find is watching me. His eyes hold mine as we listen to the muted sounds of Isabella's exhilarated voice telling my father all about her encounter with Jose the llama and the "three million" sheep in the field.
His lips curve more deeply. Mine curve in response. No words pass between us, but none have to. He's asking me if I can accept her. He's telling me that he already has. My answering smile tells him that we are a family, he and I, no matter what. No matter who. And that Isabella is welcome in our fold. Because I will love anything of Cash's. And it's seeming more and more like Isabella is Cash's.
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As it turns out, Isabella and I share more than one love in life-Cash and my father. I'm biased, of course, so I think Dad is wonderful, but it seems that Isabella agrees. She took to him immediately and her comfort level is only increasing as the night wears on.
Cash rented Frozen for us to watch. Isabella wanted to sit between Cash and Dad, so they sat with her on the couch with me in the recliner, watching them. She was quiet and still at first. I wondered if she was wondering what she'd gotten herself into. But then, as the movie wore on, she loosened up. Her lips moved silently to the words of some of the songs and she eventually stopped fiddling with her fingers. But when it came to the part where Let It Go played, she was thrilled that both men knew the words to the chorus. Cash started singing first, then Dad joined in. Isabella giggled hysterically for a few seconds and then piped in with them. She knew every word to the song, but she sang much louder when they chimed in.
Now she's asleep, slumped against Cash's side, his arm stretched along the couch behind her. Dad's snoring to her left, head leaning back, mouth sagging open. Watching them makes my stomach clench almost painfully.
Cash hasn't taken his eyes off of Isabella for at least five minutes. When he does, he raises them to mine. There is no smile in them. Just heart. He's already accepted her in all the ways that matter. To him, she's part of flesh. I can see it, written on his face as plain as the credits scrolling by on the television screen.
I get up and walk toward him, standing over him and Isabella, his eyes trained upward and locked on mine. I smile and lean down to support her head so that he can extricate himself from her. When he does, he bends to scoop her gently into his arms and carry her up the stairs. I follow behind, moving ahead when we enter her room so that I can turn down the covers for Cash to place her in bed.
He does, gently laying her in the center of the mattress and pulling the sheet and blanket up over her. She sighs deeply and rolls onto her side, resting her cheek in her palm. Cash stands close at my side, his arm grazing mine, and we watch her. I wonder what he's thinking, what he's feeling, but I'm afraid to ask.