In a way, they find a semblance of a routine.
The villa dies down as summer draws to a close; less people vacation as August surges towards September, and Donna spends more time attempting to piece together what renovations needed to be done. Sophie spent most of her time with Sam and the boys, often finding a way to drag Donna with her- though there wasn't much resistance in the first place, truth be told.
Donna felt whatever walls she'd kept up with Sam crumble until they were heaps of dust around her feet. He was so good with both his boys and Sophie, and he'd done nothing but follow her lead when it came to both her daughter, and their constantly shifting dynamic.
"You're thinking again," she blinks at Sam's soft voice, and he settles beside her on the porch swing, rocking it gently. Donna sighed, shifting until she could nestle her head against his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her; his fingers traced nonsensical patterns into the round of her shoulder, exposed by the tank top she wore.
"Tends to happen from time to time," she murmurs, teasing in her voice as she presses a kiss to his collarbone.
"Anything good going on in that brain of yours tonight?" he asks, lifting his free hand to draw his thumb over her forehead, down between her eyes until it rests against her mouth, lips barely parted. Donna sighs, head tipping forward until it rested against his jaw.
"Sophie," is all she says, and Sam's palm smooths warm up her back. "I don't…know how to tell her, Sam."
She pulls back, swallowing thickly as she looks up at his face. She can't quite read his expression, and she knows it's because he wants this to be her decision. He'd gone along with her every decision when it came to Sophie and her knowing the truth of their relation, and it had started eating away at Donna.
Sophie deserved to know Sam was her father, and Donna wanted Sam to have the freedom to tell Sophie he was her dad. But she didn't know how to bridge that gap- how to explain that it hadn't been Sam's fault he'd been gone from her life for so many years.
"I'll follow your lead," is Sam's reply, and her chest fills with warmth. "If you want me there, I'll be there. If you think it's a better conversation for just the two of you, that's fine by me too."
He clears his throat, and Donna strokes his face as his eyes grow slightly damper.
"All that matters is I'm her dad. And I'm not going anywhere," he tells Donna, and her lips quiver into a half-smile, overcome with emotion.
"You're my dad?"
They spring apart at the sound of a soft, confused voice, both turning sharply to find Sophie standing in the entryway. Her hair was messy with sleep, but her eyes were bright with wakefulness.
"Sophie…"
"Is it right, Mommy?" she turns her gaze to her mother, and Donna's throat goes dry.
"Yes, sweetheart," she manages to say, voice wavering. "Sam is your father."
Sophie blinks, and blinks again, eyebrows furrowing together.
"Why did it take you so long?" Sophie asks, looking at Sam, and he shifts, tilting his head slightly.
"What do you mean, Sophie?" he asks, and her lips curve as she thinks, trying to rephrase.
"I'm 8. Why did you wait some long to meet me?" she asks, and there's a slight wobble to her lower lip that Donna feels crack through her chest. Sam's lips part, but no sound comes out as he tries to come up with a good explanation appropriate for an eight year old.
"That's something we can talk about tomorrow," Donna saves him, standing up from the swing. "You're supposed to be asleep."
"I had a bad dream," Sophie murmurs, looking down at her toes. She shuffles in place, and then looks back up at Sam. "You'll still be here? When I wake up?"
Sam nods, sadness etching itself into his features.
"I'll be here every day when you wake up, Sophie. I meant it when I said I'm not going anywhere, ever again, darling," he tells her, voice quiet but earnest. Sophie studies him, and gives a short nod.
"Okay."
Donna scoops Sophie up, letting the little girl snuggle her face into her neck; she turned, sharing a look with Sam that was equal parts stricken and apologetic. He merely shrugged in response, and she takes Sophie up to her room, some unsettled feeling filling her gut.
She lays Sophie down in her bed, and her daughter curls herself up, facing the wall.
"Soph-"
"I just want to go back to sleep, Mommy," Sophie whispers softly, not facing her, and Donna presses her hand to the side of her neck, swallowing hard.
"Okay, baby. I'll see you in the morning," she replies, and Sophie gives a soft noise in response. She backs out of the room, shutting the door quietly, and sank to the ground beside it, tugging her knees up to her chest.
The morning dawns cold and damp, and within an hour of her rising, it's a thunderstorm outside.
Sophie doesn't leave her room, and Donna allows her the time; the bombshell Sophie had learned last night would be hard enough for anyone, let alone an eight year old. So Donna flits around helplessly, trying to focus on things for the villa and failing to do much of anything but give herself a stress ulcer.
Sam and the boys don't come down for breakfast; she can see flickers of movement through the curtains, but the door doesn't open, and an ache settles between her ribs.
Around lunchtime, Donna knocks on Sophie's door, a sandwich in hand as she opens the door.
"I brought you something to eat, Soph," she says, and finds her daughter sitting cross-legged on the bed, looking out the window. "Is it alright if I come in?"
Sophie nods, and Donna settles beside her on the bed, handing her the plate. She strokes her daughter's hair out of her face, thumb brushing along her cheek softly.
"Want to talk about it?" she asks, and Sophie chews on her lip briefly before she speaks.
"If he's my dad, why didn't you say so when they got here?" she asks, looking up at her, and Donna sighs quietly.
"I know this won't be the answer you want to hear, but it's grown up stuff," she answers, and Sophie huffs. "But he is your father, Sophie. And he wants to be in your life, however you want him to be. He loves you very much."
Sophie frowns.
"If he loves me so much, where has he been?" she asks, and Donna's throat tightens. "Why was he so far away and not here with us?"
"It's complicated, honey," Donna replies, and puts a gentle finger over her daughter's protests. "If things were different, he would have. But then you wouldn't have Adam or Max in your life, and they're pretty awesome, right?"
Sophie nods slowly, and her eyes widen as she looks back up at her mother.
"They're my brothers," she says, the realization dawning on her, and Donna answering smile is soft.
"You do. You're a big sister now."
Sophie smiles at that, ducking her chin to her chest. "Do they know? That I'm their sister?"
"I don't know, sweetie. That's a question for Sam, I think," she answers, and Sophie nods.
"Do you love Sam, Mommy?" is her next question, and Donna's eyes widen. "I saw you on the swing."
Donna's lips parted, speechless, until she swallowed and shook herself.
"I care about Sam very much," is how she replies, but it seems to satisfy Sophie. "Finish your lunch. Then you can help me pick the paint shades for the new rooms, how does that sound?"
Sophie nods excitedly, and Donna bends to kiss the top of her head. Her daughter settles into her side, and Donna thinks just maybe everything will be okay.