Page 10 of The Broker
My phone alarm beeps. I take a deep breath and straighten my shoulders. No matter how annoying I find him, I can’t dwell on Dante right now. It’s time to pick up my daughter from school.
“Mama. . .” Angelica’s voice is a little too casual. “Can I ask you something?”
I glance down at her, something I won’t be able to do much longer. Angelica had a growth spurt this summer, and she comes up to my shoulder now. Next year, my baby will be taller than me. “Sure.”
“Can you tell me something about my dad?”
Damn it.As if my day couldn’t get worse.
Angelica is nine. In her last school, she’d been bullied by a group of girls who taunted her for not having a father. She asked me about Roberto then, but I wasn’t prepared for the question, and I shut her down so badly that she hasn’t brought up the topic for a year.
But now that she’s gathered the courage to ask again, I just have to put on my big girl panties and deal. When I wanted out of my relationship with Roberto, I couldn’t go to my parents for help. I don’t want that for my kid. I don’t want her to think there are topics that are off-limits to talk about. She needs to know that whatever the problem is, I have her back. Iwillprotect her, whatever the cost.
Not just me. I’ve tried really hard to gather a family around Angelica, not bound by blood but by the bonds of love. Lucia, Rosa, even Dante. These are Angelica’s family, her people.
“Your father’s name was Roberto.”
She rolls her eyes at me in a way only a nine-year-old can. “I knew that already, Mama,” she says. “What was he like?”
I don’t know how to respond. I don’t want to shield her from the truth, but I don’t want to give her nightmares. “He was very charming,” I say finally. “He laughed often. But he wasn’t always nice. He used to drink a lot, and when he drank, he got mean.”
“Oh.” Angelica digests my words in silence. We cross a bridge and are almost home before she asks, “Is Uncle Dante a nice person?”
I stop walking. “What?”
“They’re brothers,” Angelica says, as if that explains everything. “Victoria and Diana are sisters, and they’re both mean.”
As infuriating as I find Dante, he is nothing like his brother. The contrast between the two of them could not be starker. “Your Uncle Dante is not mean,” I say firmly. “If he was, I wouldn’t let you see him. I would not let you spend time with anyone I didn’t trust completely. Okay?”
“Okay.” Angelica switches topics with dizzying speed. “Can I have a puppy?”
Nine-year-olds. “No, you cannot have a puppy. Dogs are a lot of work, and besides, there’s no room in our apartment for one.” Yet. Fingers crossed, we’ll soon be able to move to a bigger place. Of course, I’ll have to keep from strangling Dante long enough to collect my paycheck, and right now, homicide is looking much likelier than a pet.
“Uncle Dante said if you were okay with it, I could get a puppy, and he would keep it at his house.”
I narrow my eyes. “Did he now?” I can’t think of anyone less likely to tolerate a puppy than Dante. Maybe the dog will chew his precious Ted Baker suit and his handmade Italian loafers. I savor that mental image. “Let’s discuss this later. You have a sleepover to get ready for.”
Angelica has been excited about this sleepover for the last two weeks. Besides being her new best friend, Mabel has a kittenanda puppy. But today, her thoughts run elsewhere. “If you got married to someone, I could get a new father.”
What the hell? Should have kept talking about the puppy. “I’m not interested in getting married to someone, kiddo,” I say lightly. “You’re stuck with me.”
“Patricia says her mother goes on dates. Why don’t you go on dates?”
I’m going to a sex club tonight, does that count? I close my eyes and count to ten. What has gotten into Angelica this afternoon? “I’m happy being single. Can we change the subject, please?”
“Is Aunt Lucia going to marry Signor Moretti?”
I give her a sharp glance. What has she overheard now? This is probably a good time to remind her not to eavesdrop on conversations that aren’t meant for her, but I don’t have the energy. “Maybe.”
“If she does, can I be a flower girl?”
I laugh. “I’m pretty sure you’re the first person she’ll ask.”
“Would Uncle Dante ask me to be a flower girl?”
My footsteps stutter to a halt before I realize what’s happening and force myself to keep walking. “Is Dante getting married?”
“You could marry Uncle Dante. He’s nice. You said so yourself.”