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“I know.”
She pads over to me while rubbing the sleep from her eyes, sinking down onto the bed. Side by side, we sit with our legs dangling over the side of the mattress, facing the open window and listening to the rain and Dario clattering around in the garage.
Gia breaks the silence first. “Zia Stella talked to me last night.”
After the day I had, I was so mentally and physically drained that I passed out as soon as my head hit the pillow, and I didn’t overhear any tidbits from their conversation.
“How’d it go?”
She puts her feet up on the bed and wraps her arms around her knees. “Good. Really good, actually. We talked for, like, an hour. She was upset I tried to run away and said I can always depend on her. She’s also not going to tell anyone about what happened in LA.”
A shy, wistful smile grows on her face. “She told me she loves me.”
Warmth spreads through my chest. “She does, Gia.”
“You’re the only person who’s ever told me they love me. Not even Nora told me when we were dating.”
It’s a sad reality, but it’s true for the both of us. “Just because people don’t say it doesn’t mean they don’t feel it.”
She leans her head on the tops of her knees, her eyes sad. “I don’t remember Mom ever saying it, and if she did, I’m not sure she really meant it.” She pauses for a moment then adds, “I think Zia Stella means it.”
“I think she does too.”
The rain starts picking up, some of it pooling on the windowsill, but I don’t move to close the window.
“I’m scared, Siena,” Gia admits.
“Of what?”
“I know I said I wanted to leave and go live with Mom yesterday, but that’s not really what I want. I want to stay here, with Zia Stella. I don’t want Dad to send me away.”
“I know, Gia. Dario’s not going to send us away.”
There’s a loud clattering and another “Pick up my goddamn phone calls, Stella!” yelled from outside, and Gia winces.
“Are you sure about that? He doesn’t want us in the first place, and I’ve never heard him that pissed before.”
Quietly, she adds, “He’s kind of all we have.”
I can’t deny that, and I don’t want to lie to her, so I settle on: “We’ll be okay no matter what happens. We always are.”
Gia’s voice is almost inaudible when she asks, “Why did you tell Zia Stella you did it?”
I study her face. “Isn’t that what you wanted me to do?” I don’t say it accusingly or maliciously. I’m only stating a fact.
My words float around us for a moment before she mumbles, “That makes me a terrible person, doesn’t it? I shouldn’t have made you do that for me . . .again.”
“You didn’t make me do anything. And besides, you came back and told the truth. I’m proud of you; I know that must have been hard.”
She picks at the fleece of my bedspread. “I didn’t want to; I wasn’t going to. But I kept telling you that I didn’t need you to protect me when it came to Mom, yet I keep expecting you to protect me when I screw up. It didn’t feel right.”
She still looks so young, so much like the little girl I grew up taking care of, yet she looks more mature, more determined, like she’s grown overnight.
The door to the garage is pushed open, and Dario stomps in. We startle when the door slams shut.
“Are you ready to tell him?” I ask.
She jerks at the thought, her eyes wide and terrified.
