“Got it.”
“Now, when is Meredith getting here?”
“In about ten minutes. I wanted to take some family photographs before she arrives.”
“Shoes first!” Mom’s panicked voice enters the room before she does, and a substantially narrowed selection of shoes clatters to the floor.
Paige looks up at me. “Which ones do you think, Mom?”
I point to a pair with a mid-height heel, covered in silver crystals—perfect for a belle’s first ball. “Those. Definitely.”
“Great.” She slips them on and glances at my mother and me. “Come on… Pictures!”
We descend the stairs—Paige first, my mother and me just behind. It gives me a bird’s eye view of Augusto’s expression.
He’s moved to the hallway and when he looks up, he goes completely still. He blinks, his lips falling open a touch.
A flash of feeling darts through me—those lips against mine as he pumps me from behind in one, last, desperate connection. I shake my head. This is my daughter’s moment—I need to focus.
“Paige… You look beautiful,” he says simply.
Even though I can’t see her face, I know it’s just lit up like the sun.
She pauses on the bottom step. “Really?”
“Yes.” He glances over her shoulder at me as if he wants me to be sure he really means it.
She hops to the ground and spins once, nervously. “Is it too much though? Is my hair okay? Is it?—”
“It’s perfect,” he says with a smile.
And just like that, she believes him. With me, she’d question it endlessly.
I reflect briefly that this is what she’s needed all her life—a father figure—and she never really had one in Gerard. Has Augusto been providing that from a distance these last eighteen months? Is that why she’s been calmer? More settled?
I feel Augusto’s gaze on me as Paige skips away to apply yet another lick of gloss to her mouth. Mom steps past me leaving just him and me staring at each other.
Even as Mallorie’s voice enters the house and I hear my mom chatting with her, I can’t tear my eyes away from this man that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about despite every single attempt not to.
He lifts the whisky to his mouth, slowly. Pauses, and then throws it all down his throat.
I wet my lips. My voice comes out all husky. “You want another of those?”
He winces only slightly. “Uh huh.”
My fingers brush his as I take the glass. An electrical storm rages through my arm and my eyes snap to his. They’re so dark now. Thunderous.
“Erin—"
“Not yet,” I whisper.
His breaths deepen like I just promised him eternity and he nods.
We gather in the living room and Augusto generously assumes the role of photographer while we each pose with Paige.
After about twenty minutes of posing and rearranging hair, Paige glances up at me nervously. “Mom, can I have a picture with Augie?”
I swallow, surprised.
