And the reason I knew that was because if that messagehad truly been meant for me, I would already be dead.
Chapter Three
After parking in the underground garage of myapartment building, I took the elevator to the sixth floor, snacks in hand. Icould smell the pizza as soon as I stepped into the hallway. We had a Fridaynight tradition in my house.
One that apparently started without me if I was late.
Before I could fully unlock the door, it swung open,revealing my smiling best friend and a giggling four-year-old girl with a mopof dark ringlets. “Popcorn!” the little girl squealed as she smashed into mythighs and threw her arms around me.
Francesca grabbed the door before it could hit Julietin the back of the head.
“My name is Caroline,” I told the top of the littlegirl’s head. “Not popcorn.”
She kept her arms around me, but looked up at me withanother one of her contagious laughs bubbling out of her. “I like Popcornbetter,” she told me.
I cupped one side of her angelic face. “Me too.”
Francesca waved her arm frantically. “All right,Princess Unicorn, let Popcorn in the door so we can eat.”
Juliet stepped on my toes so I could walk her all theway into our apartment. “Princess Unicorn?” I asked with one eyebrow raised.
“Aunt Francesca wanted me to be Princess Poop!” sheexclaimed with equal parts outrage and amusement.
That didn’t surprise me at all.
I turned to my best—and to be honest, the argumentcould be made she was my only—friend in the entire world and glared at her.“Really, Francesca? Princess Poop?”
Leaning on the kitchen island, she grinned at me. “What?”
“I don’t even know where to start with you.”
Her smile stretched wider. “Hey now. If anyone knowsanything about being a princess it’s me.”
“Why Aunt Francesca?” Juliet asked all innocent eyesand sheltered childhood.
Francesca held Juliet’s earnest gaze and with all thegravity and truth in the world said, “Because I used to be a princess.”
“No way!” Juliet squealed. She swiveled back to me.“Mommy, is that true? Did Aunt Francesca really used to be a princess?”
I hugged Juliet closer to me, hating that Francescahad brought up our past, hated that she’d invoked the ghosts that still hauntedboth of us. “She was a princess a very, very long time ago.”
Juliet’s energy was contagious though and it was hardnot to smile when my daughter’s head swiveled back and forth between us soquickly. “For real? The crown and the dress and the whole big castle?”
I shared a look with Francesca and mouthed for real. Iwas a single mom and the only help I had with raising Juliet was Francesca. Weall lived together in our three-bedroom apartment that we’d had since beforeJuliet was born. The only outside influence Juliet had was from her daycare andpreschool. And while she occasionally came home saying funny things she’dpicked up at those places, the majority of her dialogue was copied fromFrancesca and me.
This sometimes made for interesting emails fromteachers. They didn’t encourage their kids to jump to their feet during naptimeand shout, “Would the real Slim Shady please stand up?”
I blamed Francesca for that one.
The bad influence in question flicked open the pizzaboxes, revealing our usual order of Thai Pie for us and another with cheese andolives for Juliet—which Francesca and I would inevitably finish later tonightaround midnight. We’d tell Juliet that the pizza trolls ate it while she wassleeping.
I was a good mom like eighty-five percent of the time.Then there was that fifteen percent that was all lies so I could eat her snacksand not feel bad about the calories.
Everybody knew kid calories didn’t count.
Said the woman that just talked herself off the CherryCoke ledge.
“You got me there, kid. I didn’t have a crown ordress,” Francesca admitted.
