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“This is the best dinner I’ve had in a very long time,” she confesses softly.
I take her hand in mine. “Me too.”
Chapter 48
Bianca
I watch in awe as Roman gathers his daughters into his arms after they get their pajamas on.
His gentle hand runs over the back of Georgie’s head. “You’re tired.”
“So tired, daddy,” she agrees with a nod of her chin. “But you’ll tell us a story, right?”
Roman looks to where I’m standing in the doorway of his daughters’ bedroom.
As soon as I glanced into this room, I had an uncontrollable smile on my lips. Half of the walls in the room are soft pink. The other half is a mix of many different colors. It appears as if someone haphazardly threw pink, blue, orange, yellow, and purple paint against those walls.
I knew before Georgie jumped onto her bed which side of the room belonged to her. It’s the pink side, with the books aligned in a row on a shelf and her slippers set out next to the bed. A few stuffed animals are sitting next to her pillow.
Dora’s side of the room is a reflection of who she is. It’s messy but filled with charm. There are a few pictures hung on the wall near her bed. They are hand-drawn. Each is signed at the bottom with her first name. Stuffed animals are tucked under the blanket, and a flashlight sits on the nightstand within her reach.
“This is for emergencies,” she told me when she saw me looking at it.
My dad put one on a desk in the room I shared with Vivi when we were kids. He told us to use it if the power ever went out in the middle of the night. My sister responded that we’d be asleep and wouldn’t notice.
I’ll never forget how hard my dad laughed at that.
“Maybe Bianca can tell a story?” Roman questions with a perk of his brows. “I bet she has a lot of great stories.”
The girls jump onto their respective beds.
“Tell us a story!” Georgie yells.
Dora repeats her words in an even louder tone.
I grab the back of one of the two small wooden chairs sitting next to a table in the corner. I drag it across the carpet and take a seat.
Roman settles next to Georgie. Dora bounces from her bed to the floor and then onto Georgie’s bed in one seamless move.
“What should the story be about?” I ask, wondering what I’ve gotten myself into.
“Do you have a brother?” Georgie asks as she cuddles in next to Roman.
“I do,” I answer quietly. “Gray.”
“A crayon is your brother?” Dora giggles.
Roman lets out a chuckle. “Bianca’s brother isn’t a crayon.”
“His name is Grayson,” I clarify with a smile. “Grayson Marks.”
“Tell us your dad’s name,” Georgie hesitates. “Please, Binanca. What’s his name?”
“Thurston,” Roman says quickly.
“George.” My voice overlaps his.
His gaze darts to my face. “What? Thurston Marks is your father. That’s what you told Clarice.”
“Stepfather,” I say quietly. “My father…my dad... well, his name was George.”
“Like me?” Georgie bounces to her feet. “Your dad was named Georgie like me?”
Roman leans forward. “You said was , Bianca.”
I nod. “He’s not here anymore.”
“He died?” he asks.
Georgie’s hand darts to her mouth as Dora lets out a gasp.
I shake my head. “It was a very long time ago. I was lucky that I got to have him as a dad for eleven years. Now, I have a dad named Thurston.”
“Two dads.” Georgie smiles. “That is lucky.”
“Your father died when you were eleven?” Roman’s gaze searches my face. “How?”
“It was very sudden. He had a heart attack,” I whisper. “He was in Kentucky on business when it happened. Should we talk about this later?”
“His heart was sick?” Dora’s tone is soft. “Our great-grandma got sick. She died before we were born.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say to both girls. “I’m sure she was very special.”
“Daddy said she was the best grandma.”
I look at Roman, but I can’t read his expression, so I change the subject. “I think I should tell you a story about my sister, Viviana.”
“Vivranna.” Georgie stumbles over her name.
“Vivi,” I whisper. “I call her that, or sometimes I call her V.”
“V?” Dora giggles. “I like that. I could be D.”
“I could be G,” Georgie joins in.
“I’m B.” I raise my hand in the air. “Vivi calls me that. We’re B and V.”
“B and V,” Roman repeats with a tremor in his tone. “Wait. Your surname. Thurston adopted you?”
Nodding, I turn my full attention to him. “I was born a Cuthbert. I was adopted when I was twelve by Thurston after he married my mom.”
All the color drains from his face. “I had no idea.”
“Are you all right?” I ask quietly.
“Sometimes salmon gives daddy a tummy ache.” Georgie grasps her stomach. “It does that to me too.”
“Me three.” Dora throws herself back onto the bed. “Buggy too. I think we need to call Uncle Matty.”
