Sammie steps into the elevator, chuckling under his breath.Asshole.
“No.” I fold my arms over my chest. No fucking way is she leaving this house dressed like a hooker, an expensive hooker but a hooker nonetheless.
“Oh, you look pretty, Antonia. Can you paint my lips like that?” Jazzy says, appearing out of nowhere.
“Absolutely not,” I tell her.
“Why not?” She pouts. “She looks pretty. Don’t you think, Carlo?”
“She does, but that kind of makeup is for grown-ups. Maybe when you’re fifty, you can wear it,” I say.
“But Antonia’s not fifty,” Jazzy argues.
“I have a pink gloss. You want to try that, Jazzy?” Antonia offers.
“Yes please. Can I wear it to dinner tonight? Maybe I can find a red dress and we can be matching?” my daughter suggests.
“Or what if I find a pink dress to match one of yours?” Antonia asks, and Jazzy’s face lights up. She’s so excited at the prospect of them matching. “Wait… What dinner?” Antonia turns to me.
“We’re having dinner at Louie and Charlotte’s. You should go and find that pink dress, babe.” I smirk. I might be losing the fight with Jazzy over the lip gloss shit, but I did win the fight with Antonia about the red dress and she doesn’t even realize it yet.
“I hate you,” she mouths at me before looking to Jazzy. “You wanna help me pick one?”
“Yes.” Jazzy reaches up, takes hold of Antonia’s hand, and starts pulling her down the hallway towards the bedroom.
I watch them leave. I want to follow. Ishouldfollow. Then Antonia’s words repeat in my head. She thinks I don’t trust her with my daughter. I need to let her do this without hovering. Maybe if she sees I trust her completely, she’ll start to trust me again too.
And pigs might actually fly.I look out the window at the Vegas skyline. Sure enough, it’s clear of pigs.
Chapter Fourteen
I’m nervous, so nervous I don’t instinctively pull away when Carlo reaches for my hand as we exit the car and make our way through the Royal Flush Casino. Jazzy is tucked against his other side.
“You okay?” he asks me.
“Uh-uh.” I nod my head. But I’m not okay.
“You’re a shitty liar, remember? What’s wrong?” he presses.
He’s right. I am a shitty liar. It’s always been one of my flaws. I wish I could improve on it. “What if they don’t like me?”
“Who?”
“Your friends, Carlo. What if they don’t like me?” I clarify.
“Who the fuck cares? I like you.”
“They’re your friends. You don’t mean that,” I tell him.
“I like you, Antonia. You’re nothing like the evil stepmother Cinderella got,” Jazzy chimes in.
“Thanks.” I smile at her. “I like you too.” She is a really good kid. I mean, I don’t have any experience to compare it to, but she is a sweet little girl.
“Also, if you don’t like them, I’ll tell them they have to like you anyway, because you’re my daddy’s wife,” she says so matter-of-factly. “And all the uncles do what I say.” She whispers that bit like it’s a big secret.
“See? Sorted. If they don’t like you, Jazzy’s got your back. Come on, you’re going to be fine, Antonia. I’ve never met a single person who didn’t like you,” Carlo says.
“Right.” I roll my eyes. I’m sure there are plenty of people who don’t like me. I’d even put money on it, and I’m not a gambler.
