by Alyse Zaftig
“What’s going to happen to Ariana?”
Iacopo’s eyes blaze with fire.
“I’m sending her to rehab out of the country.”
“Can you do that? Are you allowed to involuntarily commit people to rehab?”
“In other countries, you can. I’ve also asked for 100% custody of Lucia. I said that Ariana was putting our daughter in danger.”
“How did you prove that?”
“She was sleeping with a drug dealer who liked to slap Lucia around. She didn’t care as long as he kept giving her cocaine.”
“How on earth could you find that out?”
“I didn’t,” he says. “Lucia’s daycare teacher didn’t buy the explanation that she’d fallen down a flight of stairs so many times. She took pictures of the bruises and documented a pattern of abuse. Child Protective Services investigated and they sent a letter informing me about the outcome of their investigation. She’s with a foster family for a few days until I can get primary custody. Then she’ll live with us.”
“I love her,” I say. “I’m glad.”
“I wish that Ariana…” he trails off. “But there’s no use.
“I’m not glad that Ariana is a drug addict who didn’t protect your daughter. But I am glad that you’ll be able to get primary custody and save her. Just like you’ve saved me.”
He turns my chair so that I’m facing him, not stuffing my face with food.
“Do you want to marry me?”
I get the feeling that right now is the real proposal. It’s a lot more real than when he just jammed a ring on my finger.
“Do you love me?” It’s the most important question. His answer will be my answer.
“I thought I was going to go insane when you were stolen,” he says. “Of course I love you. Of course.”
I lean forward and put my mouth on his. He understands my answer, because he’s lifting me so that I’m on the dining room table, just a few feet away from our meal.
“I need you,” he says.
He fumbles with my clothes quickly, yanking everything off. He doesn’t undress. All he does is pull down his pants so that he can thrust inside of me.
I can’t speak. I can only feel. This moment, even more than actually getting into the driveway, feels like coming home. Neither of us can last for very long. In a few moments, he’s filling me with warmth. Maybe he’s giving Lucia a little brother or sister.
When we have our breath back, he touches my face very gently. Then he pulls my hand to his mouth and kisses the ring on my finger.
“I love you,” he says.
“I love you,” I say back to him.
Lucia’s Birthday Party
Kelly
TWO YEARS LATER
“How old are you today, Lucia?”
She holds up two fingers.
“No, Lucia,” I laugh. “You’re a big girl now. You’re three.”
I show her three fingers. She mimics my action, but she seems confused. There’s not a big difference in her daily life when she turns three, because it’s just a difference of one day. But she’s officially a toddler now.
“Do you want to wear a tiara?”
She nods enthusiastically. She’s wearing a puffy pink dress that’s twice her size. The skirt is huge, but she chose this dress after rejecting every other one.
I pick her up and let her stand on a chair so that she can put on her tiara while looking into the mirror.
“There you go, sweetie.”
She jams the tiara on her head. She has Iacopo’s dark hair.
“What a beautiful little lady,” I say.
“Down,” she says.
I pick her up and place her on the floor. Then she’s running away like the energetic little girl she is. She already has some guests downstairs.
“Are you ready, amore?”
Iacopo is coming out of the closet. He’s dressed casually in a polo shirt and simple khaki pants. He looks like a typical suburban dad.
“Almost. I need to put on my necklace.”
“Let me help you.”
I hand him the necklace and watch in the mirror as he comes up behind me and puts it around my neck.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers in my ear. His hands go to my waist.
We’ve been married for almost two years now, but I’ve never stopped melting inside when he touches me.
“We don’t have time for this,” I protest. “There are guests downstairs.”
“Later,” he promises.
We walk downstairs together, hand in hand. I’m wearing a very simple blue dress so I can chase after my daughter and her guests. The ornate necklace that I’m wearing was a gift from Iacopo for my last birthday. It balances out the plain design of my periwinkle dress.
We hired a party planner, so someone else is making sure that we don’t run out of food during the evening. The kids are running around in the back yard, having a blast with the water guns that we’ve decided would be party favors. Lucia is soaking wet, her princess dress deflated already, but she didn’t want to wear her bathing suit. Her tiara is askew, barely on her head. She looks so happy.
“I wish Ariana wanted to see this,” I say to Iacopo. After Ariana got out of rehab, she and Iacopo came to an agreement. He’d keep paying the child support as long as she gave us primary custody. Iacopo pointed out to her how much work went into running the business. She’s in a mega-yacht off the coast of the French Riviera. Lucia hasn’t seen her in over a year. Ariana never calls or checks on Lucia. It’s like Ariana is totally gone.
“Ariana is like your mother, amore.” He leans in and kisses my temple. “But you are not.”
The two of us stand around, watching the kids run around.
Then it’s time for cake. The caterer calls everyone into the dining room.
We sing for her. Lucia blows out her three candles and everyone cheers. All the kids dig into very sugary cake with pink frosting.
We help the kids clean up, but Lucia is beyond saving. Not only is her dress wet, but there’s pink frosting smeared all over it. I guess her princess dress was a one-time deal.
Then their parents are bustling in. The caterer has put the leftover cake into little boxes that are in the party favor bags. Their now-dry water guns are inside.
When everyone is gone, I point upstairs.
“Bath time for you.”
Lucia loves water, so it’s not hard to get her cleaned up. The dress is beyond saving. I dress her in pajamas. She gives me a big smacking kiss on the cheek when I’m done.
“Story, please.”
“Well, since you asked so nicely.”
She points to Goldilocks and the Three Bears. I do different voices for each of the characters. Her eyes close as I read.
I finish it, but I turn the lights off and close the door. She’s exhausted from running around so much today.
“Is she asleep?”
“Yes.”
Iacopo picks me up and carries me to our bedroom.
“You’re obsessed with sex,” I tease.
“I’m obsessed with you,” he says. And then my clothing is being yanked off.
“There’s still frosting on you.” He licks it off. “Tastes good.”
Then he kisses his way down and blows my mind. I jerk my hips upward and try not to scream and wake up our daughter.
Then I’m being turned on my stomach as he positions himself on top of me. When he pushes inside, I come instantly. He finishes soon after.
“Damn,” he says. “I wanted it to last longer.” He pulls out of me, turns me over, and tucks my head into the juncture of his neck and shoulder. He smells so good.
“I have something to tell you,” I say.
His hand strokes the edge of my body, discovering every curve and valley.
“What is it?”
“I’m pregnant,” I whisper.
His body tenses.
“Pregnant?”
I don’t know how he’ll react. We h
aven’t ever used protection and we’ve slept together very frequently, so I was worried that I was infertile or something. But I’ve been feeling kind of sick lately, and Camilla said that I should get a pregnancy test, just to check.
“I saw the two lines earlier today.”
Then his mouth is on mine. His tongue is pushing deep inside of my mouth. When he lets me up for air, I say, “You’re happy about it?”
“Happy isn’t enough,” he says. “I’m over the moon.”
He puts his hand on my stomach. “We’re having a baby.”
“Yes, we are.” I put my hand lightly on top of his.
“You’re so perfect,” he says.
“I love you.”
THE END