Chapter Eight: A Chance to Prove Himself

Camille had barely slept.

After Dominic's declaration, she had spent the night replaying their argument, torn between her instincts as a mother and the undeniable truth—Liam deserved to know his father.

But what if Dominic left again?

What if she let him in, only for him to disappear the moment things got difficult?

Her heart couldn't take that risk.

Neither could Liam's.

The morning rush at The Blue Harbor Café gave her little time to dwell on it. The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as customers trickled in—locals exchanging small talk, tourists pausing to admire the seaside view.

It was the kind of morning that usually grounded her.

But today, she felt restless.

And then, as if summoned by her thoughts, Dominic walked in.

Camille straightened, gripping the counter. "Dominic."

"Morning." His voice was even, but there was something unreadable in his expression.

"What are you doing here?"

He met her gaze. "Getting coffee."

She huffed. "You don't even drink coffee."

"I do now."

Camille narrowed her eyes. "You can't just hang around here hoping I'll change my mind."

"I'm not hoping," he said simply. "I'm proving myself."

Her stomach twisted.

Dominic stepped forward, lowering his voice. "I meant what I said, Camille. I'm not leaving. And I know you don't believe me yet—but I'll show you."

She searched his face, looking for cracks, for any sign that this was a fleeting promise.

But all she saw was determination.

Before she could respond, the café door swung open, and Liam strolled in, clutching a chessboard under one arm.

"Mom, can I set up in the back?"

Camille's breath caught.

Dominic stiffened.

Liam barely glanced at him, too preoccupied with his task.

Camille hesitated, then nodded. "Go ahead, sweetheart."

As Liam disappeared into the back room, Dominic exhaled slowly.

"You should let me get to know him," he said. "Even if he doesn't know who I am yet."

Camille's chest tightened.

She should say no. She needed to say no.

But for some reason, the words wouldn't come.

Later that afternoon, Dominic found himself sitting at a small wooden table in the café's corner, watching Liam carefully arrange his chess pieces.

"You play?" Liam asked, not looking up.

Dominic hesitated, then nodded. "A little."

Liam tilted his head. "Are you any good?"

Dominic smirked. "I guess we'll find out."

Liam grinned. "Okay. But I should warn you—I don't go easy on beginners."

Camille, watching from behind the counter, felt her heart clench.

Liam had no idea.

No idea that the man across from him was his father.

No idea that Dominic was watching him like he was the most important person in the world.

And Camille?

She had no idea what scared her more—that Dominic might leave again.

Or that, somehow, he might stay.