“I’ll do?—”
“Finish that sentence.” We all turn at the sound of Rome’s voice. His hands are balled in fists, his face a mask of fury as he stares Papa down. “And make one move toward my wife, so I can skin you alive.”
“She’s trying to interfere?—”
“I don’t give a fuck what she’s doing,” Rome says, and strides over to take Lulu in his arms. “You’ll never look at her or speak to her in anger again.”
Papa glares at me.
“Get dressed and get your ass out there.”
With that, he spins on his heel and walks away, and I let out the breath I was holding.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly.
“Not your fault,” Lulu says with a smile. “Now, I’ll help you put your dress on.”
“Oh, you don’t have to?—”
“Rome, can I have your knife, please?”
Rome’s eyebrow climbs, but he pushes his tattoo-covered hand into his pocket and comes out with a switchblade, then passes it to his wife.
“Be careful,” he says to her.
Lulu grins. “Thanks. I have some dress surgery to do.”
“I’ll wait outside for you,” Rome says, and kisses Lulu softly on the forehead before nodding at me and walking out, closing the door behind him.
“He’s really nice to you.”
Lulu nods, watching me with somber eyes. “He loves me. He wouldneverhurt me.”
“I love that for you.” And it’s the truth, I do love it for her. Everyone should have that security.
I don’t know what it feels like to be loved.
Aside from my babushka, no one has ever loved me before, and she died when I was just five. I don’t have many memories of her.
“We have work to do with this. Tell me you didn’t choose it yourself,” Lulu says, gesturing to the puffy shoulders on the dress.
“I’ve never seen it before.”
“Well, good, because now I can say this without hurting your feelings. It sucks. I mean, it’s not cheap materials, so we can work with it, but it’s so not your style.”
“You hardly know me.”
She turns and smiles at me. “And yet, I know thatthisis not the dress for you. Let’s get you in it, and then I’ll start cutting. I promise, I won’t hurt you.”
I believe her. Lulu is absolutely someone that I could be friends with. So, with her help, we manage to get the dress on me.
It fits well, but I look like a big, puffy marshmallow in this thing.
“Why did they think these shoulders and sleeves were a good idea?” She takes her knife and carefully cuts through the seam, then yanks the sleeve off me, and now I can see that as a tank-style dress, it’s much better.
“Okay, this is an improvement.”
“Right? I think so too. Let me do the other side.”
