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Sabrina
Our breakfast has turned into complete chaos. Murphy and Brady are yelling. They’re furious. Sebastian can’t get a word in. I’m watching Emma. A sly smile covers her beautiful face. She’s enjoying this. I don’t think it’s the idea of being Bash’s wife that is making her smile. I think it’s the chaos she just caused. Her eyes meet mine, and she winks and taps something out on her phone.
Emma pushes to her feet and extends her hand to me. “It was lovely to meet you, Senator Cabot’s daughter. My dad’s a big fan.” Then she turns to Bash. “My Uber will be here in three minutes. I’m gonna wait outside. Last night was fun. See ya soon, future husband.” She leans down and kisses him on the lips, then makes a dramatic exit.
Damn. This girl is insane.
The guys are still yelling at Bash. He’s not even responding anymore, just letting them yell.
I grab his arm. “Bash, who is she?”
“That was Emilia Sabatini.” He turns around, taking two steps back, putting both hands on his head.
Glancing from the guys to Bash, I ask, “Why does that name sound familiar?”
Murphy crosses his arms over his chest. God, he’s yummy with his bare chest and dark grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips.
Wait. Focus...What did Bash just say?
Murph’s speaking to Bash now. “Atlantic City Sabatinis? Like, your Pops, but down the shore?”
Brady sits down and puts his head in his hands. “Fuck, man.”
I prepare to stand up, but Murph grabs my hand and squeezes. Guess he wants me to stay, but this seems like a family matter. “I should go and let you guys talk about this.”
Bash shakes his head. “It’s all good, Brina. I’ve known her most of my life. Your nickname for her was pretty spot-on, Murph.”
He runs his hands through his hair. “Our dads have been pushing us together for a while, but it’s not happening. I’m not going to be forced into something I don’t want. It’s my dad’s way of trying to control me.” Bash turns away, but Brady stops him.
“Then why was she here, man?”
He turns back to look at Murphy and Brady. He laughs a sad, defeated laugh. “Did you see her? She’s hard to deny on a good day. Add a few beers chased by a few shots of Jager, and it sounded like a good idea at the time.” He slaps his hands on the table. “I can’t do this now. I gotta get out of here, guys. I’ll try to be back before the game.” He grabs a set of keys from the bowl on the counter and walks toward the door with Murphy and Brady following behind.
I sit there for a moment, wondering what I should do next. What are you supposed to do when all Hell breaks loose and you’re not in your own house? I decide to clear the dishes and place them in the dishwasher. I’m just starting to put the leftovers in storage bags when Murphy and Brady walk back in.
Murphy walks up behind me and wraps those delicious arms around me again. “Leave this stuff, Brina. It’s Brady’s turn to do the dishes.” He kisses the top of my head.
“Yeah, man. I got it. You and Tommy making pizzas tonight?” Brady moves to the sink and turns the hot water on.
“Are the Kings playing? Of course, we’re making pizzas. Little man is getting pretty good at rolling out the dough.” It’s a given that if Tommy’s there, Murphy’s making him his favorite pizzas. The guys laugh, and I’m even more disappointed I won’t be able to spend the afternoon with everyone.
* * *
Later that afternoon, I’m sitting in my dad’s home office, going over last-minute changes for his speech and I’m wishing I was watching the game with my friends. For years, this was a room that I was told to stay out of. This was his sacred space, and my younger self started to romanticize all the political wheeling and dealing he was doing in here. This is where his chief of staff and he would always go to discuss anything, and those were the days that planted the seed in my brain that this might be something I’d want to do someday.
As a grown woman, I can see the office for what it is.
Just a room.
A really stuffy, old-fashioned room.
My mother had it redone a few years ago, and yet, it still looks like something out of the fifties. Dark red and gold plaid wallpaper lines the top half of the walls with dark wood paneling on the bottom. There are floor-to-ceiling bookcases lining half the room and oversized windows that overlook the side yard lining the other half. Dad’s desk is big and designed to make the person sitting on the opposite side of it feel small and less powerful. He has a seating area by the windows that has beautiful natural light filtering in through the heavy velvet curtains that frame them.
Dad has let me look over his speeches for the past two years. I was so excited the first time he used one of my lines, and it only grew from there. I’ve always found politics fascinating, but I don’t want to be my dad. I want to work behind the scenes. I understand that a certain amount of spotlight comes with the position I want, but I’m not expecting it to be that different from the amount that’s already been forced upon me.
I’m working toward a dual major in pre-law and political science. With the advanced placement courses I took in high school, and a few well-placed internships, I should be able to graduate with both in three years and hopefully get into my dream law school, Georgetown. My parents are pushing me to consider Harvard, but Georgetown has always been the goal in my mind. I don’t know that I want to stay in DC forever, but it’s where I want to start.
As much as my mother has pushed me through the years, my father has done the same but in a different way. He’s pushed me to do my best, but it always felt like it was coming from a supportive place. He’s always treated my sister and me like his daughters and not just pawns in his game.
