My sister does as many things right. No parent is perfect.
“Your sister is correct,” he says, giving me a candid look betraying his wish for Chiara to have resembled me more, not shying from letting everyone know who his favorite daughter is.
A headache throbs behind my temples, and I rub them absentmindedly.
Trying to salvage the tension before it ends up in a screaming match, I rush to ask my sister. “Any plans for tomorrow?”
Chiara eyes me with an apologetic glance, silently telling me she loves me, but she can’t be here two times in a row and keep her shit.
Understanding, I nod.
“I would like to see the girls and the other babies.” I look at my parents making that pleading face they can’t refuse.
They nod, and Chiara smiles, knowing my tactics.
She stands up with Celia in her arms as Cato enters the dining room. Their telepathic connection must be strong.
He greets me with a brief and courteous nod before he moves to kiss his wife and picks up Celia, who immediately falls asleep in her daddy’s arms.
There’s a somber cloud floating around his head, and Chiara brushes his arm to soothe him.
Saying goodbye, they leave.
“They’re going to see what it does to them if they let her do whatever she wants,” my father mutters.
“She’s a baby, Papa.”
A line digs between his brows just like the crater between us. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you. You’ve always been on my side.”
I remain perfectly silent and then go hug him. “See you tomorrow. I’m a bit tired.”
“That must be it,” my mother adds, eyeing me as if not knowing what’s wrong with me either.
I love my parents, but it’s beyond my understanding how someone can be so obtuse.
Inside my room, I change into pajamas and stare at the ceiling.
When Tristan calls me, I lock the door and, to double the security, I enter my bathroom.
It’s only been a few days, but I miss him. Thinking about how much longer it will be until I see him again squeezes every bit of joy from my heart.
In my black and white world, he’s the spark of color.
After breakfast with my parents,they walk me to the door and hug me.
“I’m so proud of you,” my father says. “My good daughter.”
If I never hear the word good again in my life, it will be too soon. I like it only in one context.
I rush out, afraid the blush will betray my thoughts. It’s imperative that I don’t slip.
My parents don’t know I can drive. That’s a secret between my sister, Cato, Dario, and me.
As the driver opens the rear door for me, I get in, thinking that Tristan is with Evie, wishing to be with them.
In a perfect reality, I’d be married to my best friend’s brother.
I am afraid I will soon lose them both. My heart fills with lead, sinking straight to the bottom of my stomach. I hate that my thoughts always revert to that scenario, but the longer I linger in limbo, the more I panic.
