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“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.
