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And the sad reality is, if I had known, would she have even accepted my help? She blamed me for making Dad sicker on his last day when he took me to Coney Island. I’m probably the last person she wants comforting her.
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” I whisper.
Emilia looks me straight in the eye and nods. “He raped her, Fran.”
I gasp and look away, unable to look in my sister’s eyes. “That’s horrible.”
“I know. And I’d do anything to get her out of that situation, but my hands are tied. So are Marco’s. Franco has too much power to just get rid of. I’ve been waiting for the day Antonio turns eighteen and takes over. Hopefully, after that, he can toss Franco out, and Mom will be ok. And so will the rest of our siblings.”
“I should call her,” I say, grabbing my phone. “I should see if she’s ok.”
“She’ll like that, I’m sure.” Emilia rubs my back. “I’ll be waiting downstairs when you’re done. I know this was a lot to take in, so if you don’t want to go out today, it’s fine.”
“No. I want to.” For the first time, I feel antsy at the thought of being cooped up in my room all day.
I dial my mom’s number after Emilia leaves. She picks up on the fourth ring. “Hello?”
“It’s me, Mom.”
“Who?”
I frown, trying to not let the sting in my heart make me cry. “Francesca.”
“Right! Francesca. How have you been? Settling in all right?”
“Why haven’t you called? I’ve been here for a week now, and I haven’t heard a word from you.”
“You left in the morning before anyone could say goodbye,” she says in a way that sounds like she’s trying to blame me.
“Did you want to say goodbye?”
“Of course. You were leaving for LA. I wanted to say goodbye.”
“Then how come you forgot to let Emilia know I was even coming?”
She’s silent on the other end for so long I have to check to make sure she hasn’t hung up. “I don’t recall forgetting,” she finally says.
Well, you did.I want to snap. Instead, I say, “It’s fine. I’m fine.”
“Well, that’s good. Listen, I have to go. The twins are fighting with each other.” She hangs up before I get the chance to say anything else.
I wanted to make sure she was ok, but she didn’t even give me the chance to ask.
I find Emilia downstairs and tell her I’m ready. I need a day out to make myself forget about how my mom treats me.
We decide to get pedicures because Emilia can’t handle another day of intense walking around a museum again. “I can’t even see my feet now,” she says as the pedicurist starts filing at her toenails.
“Only a few more weeks,” I say as my own pedicurist gets working on my feet.
“Can’t come soon enough.” She turns to me. “So, I asked Marco to invite Henry over tonight for dinner. Sounds like a good idea?”
“Sure.” But I don’t think it’s Henry I want to see at dinner. It’s another, more infuriatingly charming man I’d prefer to see.
We spend the day talking about lighthearted things that don’t include our mother or Franco or an impending marriage. Once we’re done, Emilia and I walk back to the car, both of us admiring our newly painted toenails.
“I love it,” she says, heading toward the passenger door. “I hope Marco likes—oh!” Her gasp makes me run over. Emilia hunches over, gripping her stomach.
“Are you ok?” I hover at her side. “Do you need me to take you to the hospital?”
