Page 84 of For his Surrender

“Theoretically, it’s not midnight yet, so we can still consider this as the first and only time...” he suggests, and I want to laugh at his creativeness.I would do it, actually, if it weren’t for the risk of waking my child.

“Our first and only time ended the instant the helicopter took off from that island, Marcos.And even if that wasn’t the case, you were too late.There’s already someone in my bed.” The expression on his face immediately transforms, going from relaxed and fun to something far from fun.

I roll my eyes.Really, Marcos?I open the bedroom door wide, giving him passage.He puts his head in.

As soon as his eyes meet Isabella on the bed, he sighs, looking relieved, and I can’t believe it.What did he think?That I actually found a man and put him inside the house the same day we arrived at home? Damn!

“I refuse to ask if you thought I meant it.”

“It was a stupid joke!” he grumbles, and I laugh humorlessly.

“Good night, Marcos!” I say goodbye, practically kicking him out. He raises his body, his eyes analyze me from head to toe one last time. “You’re not gonna make this hard, are you? It was just sex, Marcos.”

It’s his turn to laugh humorlessly.

“No, I won’t... Good night, Antonella.”

“Hi, Marcos!” Isabella greets me when I get home.It’s the first day after the honeymoon, and I frown as I face her alone in the kitchen, sitting on one of the stools, with her arms on the counter, her face and part of her clothes soiled by something that looks a lot like flour, while stirring in a soft and colorful dough.

Wearing shorts and a simple T-shirt, she smiles at me as her hands wiggle and stir the goo non-stop.I can’t help the awkwardness in my expression, and Isabella laughs.

“It’s a slime, Marcos!” I shake my head, agreeing, even if her explanation did nothing to help my confusion.What the hell is a slime?And why does it look so disgusting?

I glance across the room, looking for Antonella.Not because I want to see her, I tell myself, but because Isabella is alone, unsupervised, which is weird.At least it’s the first time I’ve seen that happen.

“Hi, Bella...Slime... Hm... Got it.” I lie. “And what is it for?”

“To squeeze!” It’s my turn to laugh.Clearly, Isabella still doesn’t understand the concept of purpose, because squeezing is certainly not a utility.Undoubtedly, misunderstanding my reaction, she smiles too.

“Where is your mom?”

“She went to the bathroom, she felt like doing number two!” she whispers.My first reaction is to raise my eyebrows, but then I laugh.I had definitely imagined Antonella in every possible position but sitting on the toilet.I approach Isabella and leave a kiss on her forehead.

It’s the second time I’ve done this, but the first time seemed so right, I can’t help but repeat it.

“You want to play squeezing with me?Mommy and I are doing it!We can eat too!” she explains, excited, and I really try so that the disgust I feel when I imagine putting that in my mouth does not take over my whole face, but I fail, because Isabella laughs again. “It’s good! Taste it!” She stretches the goo as if it were an infinite gum until a piece finally comes loose and offers it to me.

I open my mouth, looking for what to say, but I have no idea how to tell a child that I don’t want to eat a disgusting goo without saying exactly those words, so I close it without saying anything.Isabella watches me anxiously, still with her little hand outstretched, and I watch her, totally clueless on what to do.The seconds pass, and her face gains a disappointed expression.

The eyebrows come together, the mouth forms a pout, and even the eyes seem to lose some of their sparkle.Oh shit!Why didn’t I just go straight through?I search the kitchen for any clues to the ingredients of the damn goo, but there’s nothing.Whatever they used has already been put away or discarded.When I reach out to reach for Isabella’s, I ask the angels not to let me vomit.

The feeling of the goo on my fingers is even worse than I imagined it would be.It is soft, sticky and at the same time smooth and slippery.Impossible to understand.The scene seems to unfold in slow motion as my hand advances to my mouth.

Bella’s eyes are slightly widened by an expression of expectation on her face, and when there is no way out, I finally put the thing in my mouth with a simple plan: just swallow, without even giving my taste buds a chance to do their job.However, some part of my tongue scrapes on the goo and I frown.

I let the disgusting thing sit in my mouth and raise my eyebrows in surprise.It tastes like candy and marshmallow. I move it on my mouth, feeling the texture. It’s not one of the best. It’s like melted marshmallow.I never liked this texture, but the taste is good, a little oily, it’s true, and definitely too sweet, but it’s not the death of my palate, for sure!

“Do you like it, Marcos? Want some more?” Isabella asks, already stretching another strip of her toy/snack, and I hurry to answer.

“I like it, Bella! But I don’t want any more, thank you!We need to leave a little to your mother!” I sound a little desperate, but thank God it goes unnoticed to her, who tilts her head, seeming to think about my words and, finally, agrees.

“That’s true, Marcos! That’s true!” Stops moving, open her mouth and widen her eyes again. “Alright! Can you help me paint?The colors are there.” She points to a series of colored glasses. “But Mom said I couldn’t paint on my own...I’m done with this part.” I look at the counter again, now, more carefully.I notice that there is a container with an immense amount of goo, only white, and Isabella has only a small part in her hands, already pink.

I think for a moment, looking for a way to say no without hurting the child.I bite my lower lip when no idea comes to mind, and finally I decide to make the excuse that I think is most understandable.

“I can’t, Bella...I need to work.” Her head is slightly tilted and her eyebrows come together.

“But didn’t you just get home from work?”

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