Chapter 14 Salvatore

I’d imagined this moment a thousand different ways, but none of them came close to the real thing.

Dinner with them felt… natural. Too natural. Like I’d stepped into a life that should’ve been mine all along. Sara moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, plating food, checking on Abuela, making sure Gabe had enough rice on his plate. Gabe talked nonstop, about school, about cars, about how he helped cook, and every time he said Mama, something in my chest tightened.

And every time he looked at me, really looked at me, I felt it again.

He’s mine.

Abuela, Maria, watched us with soft, knowing eyes. She didn’t say much, but when she did, it was warm. Respectful. Protective of her family.

I liked her immediately.

When dinner ended, she pushed her chair back with a tired sigh.

“Lo siento, mijo,” she said to Gabe. “I need to lie down.”

“I’ll help you, Abuela,” Sara said, already moving to her side.

I stood automatically. “Do you need...”

“No,” Maria said gently. “Stay with your son.”

The words hit harder than I expected. Your son.

Sara gave me a small, grateful smile before guiding her grandmother down the hall. And suddenly it was just me and Gabe. He hopped off his chair. “We gotta clean up, Dad.”

Dad. I swallowed hard. “Yeah. Okay.”

We worked side by side, rinsing plates, stacking bowls, wiping the table. He hummed while he worked, the same tune Maria had been humming earlier, and every so often he’d glance up at me like he was checking to make sure I was still there. Still real. Still his.

When the last dish was drying on the rack, he grabbed my hand again, fearless, trusting, and tugged me toward the living room.

“Come on! We gotta build the car!”

He plopped onto the rug and opened the model kit with the kind of excitement I used to have when Matteo brought home new toy soldiers. He spread out the pieces carefully, like he’d done this a hundred times. I sat beside him, watching him line everything up. He was so focused. So serious. So damn smart.

“Okay,” he said, tapping the instruction booklet. “We start with the chassis. That’s the base. Everything goes on top of that.”

I raised a brow. “You’ve done this before?”

He shrugged. “Not with a Mustang. But I watched videos.”

I couldn’t help it, I laughed. A real laugh. The kind I hadn’t felt in years.

He looked up at me, eyes bright. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “It’s more than okay.”

We worked together, piece by piece. His small hands steady, mine trying not to shake. Every time he asked me to hold something or check something or help him snap a part into place, something warm settled deeper in my chest.

This felt right. This felt like mine. This felt like home. Halfway through, he leaned against my arm without thinking. Just… leaned. Like he’d been doing it his whole life. I froze. He didn’t.

He just kept talking about engines and horsepower and how the Fastback was “way cooler than modern cars because they had soul.”

And I sat there, letting my son lean on me, letting the moment sink into my bones. I’d missed seven years. But I wasn’t missing another second.

We snapped the last piece of the Mustang into place, and Gabe sat back with a proud little grin that damn near melted me.

“There,” he said. “Perfect.”

“It is,” I agreed, and I wasn’t talking about the car.

Before I could say anything else, Sara stepped into the living room, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Her eyes softened when she saw us on the floor together, the finished model between us.

“Alright, mi amor,” she said gently, “it’s time for bed. You have school in the morning.”

Gabe’s face fell. “But Mama… I’m not even tired.”

Sara raised an eyebrow. “You will be in five minutes.”

He looked at me for backup, eyes wide and hopeful.

I shook my head, fighting a smile. “Listen to your mother, Gabe.”

He huffed dramatically. “But I’m too excited to sleep.”

I leaned forward, lowering my voice like I was sharing a secret. “How about this… I’ll be back in the morning. I’ll take you to school myself.”

His whole face lit up. “Really?”

“Really.”

He launched himself at me, arms tight around my neck. I froze for half a second, then held him just as tightly.

“Okay,” he said breathlessly. “Okay, I can sleep now.”

Sara laughed softly. “Go brush your teeth, cariño.”

He darted down the hall, still buzzing with excitement. When he disappeared into his room, the house fell quiet. Warm. Safe.

Sara gathered the towel in her hands, twisting it nervously. “Thank you… for being so good with him.”

I stepped closer. “He’s my son, Sara. I’m not going anywhere.”

Her breath caught, and for a moment, neither of us moved.

I forced myself to step back before I did something reckless. “I should go. I’ll be here around 7:30 to pick you both up.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

I walked to the door, but before I stepped out, I looked back at her, standing in the soft kitchen light, hair loose, eyes tired but hopeful.

“We’ll talk more tomorrow,” I said. “About everything.”

She swallowed. “Goodnight, Salvatore.”

“Goodnight, Sara.”

I stepped into the cool night air, closing the door behind me. And for the first time in eight years, I felt like I had something worth waking up for.