“Promise.”
“What if Antonia turns out to be likeher?” she asks.
“Like who?”
“Cinderella’s evil stepmother.” Jazzy points to the character in the book.
“If she turns out to be evil, we can kill her,” I say simply.
Jazzy’s eyes widen. “You can’t do that.”
“You’re right. But she’s not going to be evil. She also isn’t your mother. You have a mother already.”
A sadness passes over my daughter’s face. “My mama isn’t coming back, Carlo. She can’t.”
“Why can’t she?” I press.
“I’m not supposed to say.”
“You know you can tell me anything. It will stay between you and me.”
“What if you die like Cinderella’s daddy, and I get stuck with Antonia as an evil stepmother? You won’t be here to help me,” Jazzy says instead of answering me.
“Remember what I said about helping yourself? You won’t need me and you won’t get stuck with an evil stepmother either. Ever. I won’t let that happen. Besides, I’m not going anywhere. But if I did, then Uncle Louie and Aunt Charlotte will look after you.” I should really put that in a will or something. I make a mental note to contact my attorney tomorrow and get everything situated for Jazzy if something really did happen to me. I need to make sure she will always be looked after.
“Okay,” Jazzy says and lies down.
I pull the blankets up to her chin and tuck them in beside her. I’ve loved before. Once. Never in my life did I think I could love someone so much so quickly, though. “Want me to finish the story?”
“Can you tell me a different story?” she asks.
“Sure. Which one?”
“I want the story where the princess grew up and her mama and daddy lived together and they were a happy family.”
I’m speechless. That’s not something I can give her. No matter how much I may want to. I don’t even know her mother. And right now, I don’t want the woman to pop back up, becausethere isn’t a chance in hell that I’m ever going to give away my daughter.
“How about I tell you about the king who found his princess after missing her for years and years, and they lived happily ever after together… until she grew up into a beautiful, strong, independent woman?”
“Okay.” Jazzy smiles and snuggles into the blankets.
I wake up before Jasmine. My back aches from the floor. I sit up, lean against the wall, and stare at my daughter. She’s so fucking perfect. I don’t understand how the fuck her mother could just leave her.
I see Antonia brush past the open door. She’s still wearing that huge-ass fucking dress. I don’t bother moving, though. I know she’s not going anywhere. She might hate me, but she fears her father more. She’s not going to do anything to jeopardize this marriage by walking out.
A minute later, she stomps past again with a pair of scissors in her hand.
“Whoa, hold up!” I call out, and she stops.
Her head pokes around the doorframe and her eyes land on the child-size lump on the bed before flicking over to me. “Did you sleep here?”
“She has nightmares. She likes knowing I’m close,” I explain, nodding my head towards the scissors. “What are you doing with those?”
“Cutting myself out of this stupid dress,” Antonia groans.
“You’re going to hurt yourself.” I push up from the floor and walk to the door. “Turn around,” I tell her.
“You’re not undressing me,” she hisses under her breath.
