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“Every woman wants a man who’ll fall in love with her soul as well as her body.”
—Rainbow Rowell
WHEN I TELL MAMA WE ARE GETTING OUR VOWS RENEWED IN LAS VEGAS, SHE DOESN’T SAY ANYTHING.
Perhaps she knew more than she was letting on, or perhaps she knew that I wouldn’t be swayed to change my mind.
I’m sitting at the kitchen table in my parent’s house, waiting for her to give me a hundred reasons why Las Vegas is the last place she would get married and how tacky it would be, but she doesn’t say anything for a couple of seconds. I almost consider shaking her, worried that my news has sent her over the edge.
“Ma?” I ask tentatively.
“We always just wanted the best for you,” she sniffles.
“Ma? What’s wrong?” I say frowning.
“Nothing, nothing. Go speak to your papa. He wants to see you,” she says, dabbing her eyes dramatically. “Are you staying for dinner?” she asks, changing the conversation.
“No, not tonight,” I say, giving her a small hug before I leave.
I knock on Papa’s door in anticipation. The last time I was in here didn’t exactly bring back great memories.
“Sophia,” he says, nodding at me from behind the desk. Papa is dressed in his standard uniform of a gray suit and a crisp white shirt. He doesn’t have casual days; his dress code is strictly formidable wear only, and he once told me that any male over the age of ten who wore jeans should be shot.
“Papa, you wanted to see me?” I ask quietly.
“How is the pregnancy?” he asks, looking at my bump.
“Good,” I say smiling.
“Croccifixio tells me it’s a boy.”
“Rocco,” I say, correcting him, “Yes.”
“Good, good,” he says, clearing his throat.
“I know what you’re going to say.”
I look up at him, awaiting the lecture that has been coming since Chicago. Every time I have seen Papa, I have been with Rocco, so he wouldn’t have said anything.
“You were right about Anton,” I say, blurting it out. “It was a trap.”
“You thought I brought you here to chastise you?” He says, raising an eyebrow at me. Had I got this so horribly wrong?
“I was furious, Sophia. I wanted the best for you, and it could have gone so wrong.”
“But it didn’t.”
“You were so young and naïve.” He sighs.
“Maybe that’s where I went wrong. I guess I just believed the good in everyone. Maybe, now I’m a little more clued up.”
“Is Croccifixio treating you well?” He says, raising his eyebrow a fraction.
“Rocco, yes, he is.”
“Because your mama and I thought—”
“Thought what?” I say sharply.
