“Not tonight, sweetheart,” I reply and she groans. I look at her and I want to say, “Girl, same,” but instead, I shake my head.
“How about we have a pedicure night?” I try to change her mind. It hasn’t been easy with her these past few days, and I wonder if she thinks he won’t come back for her. I was even going to cave and ask him if we could go and stay at his house tonight, just so she knows he’s coming back. I have no idea if this is a good idea or not. I have no idea because I’ve never had to do this before. It was always her and me without anyone between us, but now it is all about her dad. Where is he? What is he doing? Do I think he misses her? It was fucking brutal, and as the day wore off, so did communication with Stefano, which I refuse to think about. He went from calling me at night to just sending a quick text. Which I only answered in the morning. I would send out a text, hoping he was up, but the text only got answered after I was at work. Yesterday, all I got was a “good night” text after midnight. I refuse to think about it, but I know deep down that change is coming. I also know, no matter the change, I will say I am okay. I survived worse than being left by Stefano Dimitris. I will pretend I am okay and I will do it with a smile on my face. I will do it for my daughter.
“Can I paint my nails red like Grand-mère?” she asks me and I close my eyes.
“Only your toes, not your hands.” I compromise and I think she knows it, so she smiles as she eats her pancakes. I have time to wash her hands quickly when she is done before ushering her to the car. I have never been late in my life, and I am not about to start now. I continue with our routine.
Dropping her off, I kiss her and head to the office. I don’t even try to call Stefano this morning because it was past eleven when he returned to his hotel room. Or at least that is the time he sent me the text. I didn’t answer him back. I saw it come in and swiped it away while I spent hours on Instagram looking up wedding ideas.
I’m the first one in the office, so I open the shades and then make myself a coffee before walking
over to my desk. The front door opens, and I look up to see Sofia and Shelby walk in, talking to each other. They look over at me as I smile at them, making them both stop. “What is wrong with you?”
“What?” I get up, shocked. “Why would you ask that?” I gasp.
“I don’t know, you look like your dog ate your homework,” Sofia replies.
“And then your fiancé sent you a love letter meant for someone else,” Shelby cuts in, making me gasp again because that happened to her. I don’t have time to answer her before the door opens, and Clarabella and Presley walk in, almost bumping into the two women.
“What is this?” Clarabella asks them, then looks at me.
“Did someone die?” She puts her hands to her chest.
“Do you think if someone died, they would be just standing around?” Presley laughs at her and then looks at me. “Oh my God, are you pregnant?”
“What?” I squeak. “No.” I shake my head. “We’ve had this discussion every single day since San Francisco. I’m on birth control.”
“I’m here to tell you that nothing is one hundred percent safe unless you suffer abstinence.”
Presley raises her eyebrows as she talks. “Which, from the stories we got, you are not.”
“Good God,” I mumble, “what makes you think anything is wrong?”
“You don’t have the ray of sunshine you usually do,” Shelby answers.
“You smile and stuff, but the past two days you’ve been,” Sofia says, “sad.”
“I have not,” I defend, shocked, “I’m fine.”
“No, you are not,” Clarabella says. “It’s okay to miss your man.”
“I don’t miss my man,” I lie. “He’s not even my man.” Sofia just snorts at that one.
“When Ace went away after he and Shelby got together,” Presley says, looking at her sister who just glares at her. “She came to work with a Cheeto in her hair.”
“I did not,” Shelby retorts. “Was I out of it? Yes.” She folds her hands over her chest. “Did I miss him? Yes. Was I a mess?”
“Also yes,” Clarabella answers for her, earning her a death glare. “You showed up for an appointment with two different shoes!” she reminds her, and I quickly look down to see I have the same shoes on.
“It looked like the same shoe.” Shelby stomps toward her office. “One was black.”