Page 12 of Unruly

It sometimes felt like Catherine never stopped moving. She would get home from one trip, stay a week, and then she was off again.

“Smile, Catty.”

She did.

“And try a different shade of lipstick,” Catrina added, “that pink was made for teenagers, not women.”

Catherine laughed. “Got it, Ma.”

“That’s mia reginella.” Catrina winked. “Now fix your face.”

Catherine was a lot of things. A woman, survivor, and fighter. A wife, criminal, and lover.

Above all those things, she loved being one the most.

A mother.

“Ma!”

Catherine smiled wide at the childish smile of her three-year-old daughter. When she couldn’t take Cece on trips with her, she liked to make sure they FaceTimed at least once or twice a day. Cece waved at the screen, making her hand and face blurry.

“Hi, Ma!”

“Hey, baby,” Catherine said. “Where’s Daddy?”

Cece scrunched her face up. “Gone.”

“Gone?”

“Gone, Ma. Gone.”

Catherine frowned. “Where did he go?”

“He had some business to deal with,” Dante said in the background of the call. Her father’s face suddenly dipped into view of the screen, and Cece took the chance to kiss her grandfather on the cheek. “I took Cece for the day to help.”

“Oh, well … thanks.”

Catherine supposed if Cross had something come up, that explained why she hadn’t been able to get ahold of him all damn day. She spoke with him the night before, but all her calls were now going to voicemail. It sucked.

She missed her husband.

She missed her baby.

Dante left the view of the screen, leaving Catherine only Cece to look at. That was just fine with her, too. She adored her baby girl. Everything that was wonderful in her life could be wrapped up in her husband and daughter. She had not expected Cece to make her way into their lives as soon as she had, but Catherine wouldn’t change it for the world.

“Ma loves you, Cece,” Catherine said.

Cece made a kissy-face and a matching, slurpy kissing sound. “Loves my ma, Ma.”

“I like your dress.”

Just like that, her daughter lit up all over again. All it took was mention of clothes, shoes, or makeup, and Cece was all over it.

Her daughter fluffed the tulle of her skirt up for Catherine to see. “S’pink, Ma!”

“Very pink.”

“Clicky shoes!”