Christy
As I open the door to leave our bedroom, I immediately hear the excited chattering of Rosie, followed by the deep, indulgent responses of Tony. I’m quiet as I go down the hall to see them through the open door of her bedroom. A bedroom that is a mirror to the one she had in Austin. How like Tony to do this.
They are at a small table, Tony on the floor, Rosie in a child’s chair. His silk suit, in a dark blue, is of no concern to him, while Rosie is still in her Dora nightgown with a long string of pearls around her neck. I wonder where she got them. Rosie is pouring nonexistent tea into a pink cup so small in Tony’s hand, it’s hard not to laugh. His eyes are on her, the love and adoration across his face have me biting my lip to keep the tears at bay. I flinch from my endless list of wrongs.
He didn’t need to say he loved me. The fact I’m still breathing air while not caged in a dungeon speaks the words he hasn’t yet. Tony looks up at me. “I was unaware of the varieties of tea that existed. And how much I like bubble gum tea.”
“Mommy, guess what? Papa said for my birthday, I can have a puppy and a kitten because I have to wait so long for my little sister.” Rosie runs to me, and clings to my hand as she jumps up and down.
“Baby, we can’t get a kitten. Remember you’re allergic? They make your eyes itchy, and you scratch.” I shake my head at Tony. Sometimes, I can’t believe him. “We have to find a special puppy too. Papa and I will look for your puppy.”
Tony moves quickly, picking Rosie up. “I’m sorry, baby girl. If a kitten makes you itchy, then no kitten.” Her lips tremble. Tony kisses her. “That just means we’ll have two puppies instead.”
“Yay! Two puppies.” Rosie throws her arms around his neck. “Mommy was right. I do have the best Papa in the whole wide world.”
Our eyes meet over her head. I nod as I fight to breathe deep at the emotion in his eyes.
18
Christy
The day is long. After going downstairs for breakfast everything starts happening at a breakneck pace. We went straight to a dressmaker where both mine and Rosie’s dresses were meticulously planned, with much input by Tony. The woman wasn’t exactly happy she would need to complete the dresses in only three weeks, but Tony was spending enough she was willing to do it.
Next was a wedding planner who scared me a little. The way she handled various people on the phone was intimidating as hell. The invitations were picked and would go out to almost four hundred people within two days. I almost fainted when Tony told her to use the same list used for Regina and Dominic’s wedding and she responded with the number. Four hundred people?
When she pulled out pictures of Regina and Dominic’s wedding that happened at the cathedral downtown and asked how we wanted it done differently I found myself reaching out for Tony’s hand. Lines appeared on his forehead as he took my hand, squeezing it tight. Rosie was on his knee, where she hadn’t budged since we got there, and I’m envious.
We moved onto the florist, where I gasped more than a few times at the cost. Finally, we end at a bakery where Rosie goes into overdrive at the sugar Tony allows her to have. In English, Tony tells me he wants to go shopping for new clothes for me. I shake my head, telling him that Rosie is on the verge of a tantrum if we don’t get her home and into bed for a nap. It’s clear he wants to argue but instead gives Vito the order to go home.
Less than ten minutes from home, Rosie starts crying because the song on the radio changed. And Tony has his first introduction to Rosie’s tantrums. His eyes go wide as he looks from her to me. I blush with shame. She’s gotten better, they only happened once every other week or so. They used to happen two or three times a week.
“Rosie,” Tony barks at her, causing her to startle. “You will not scream and kick your feet like a baby. I thought you told me you were a big girl? Tell me why you are crying, and I will fix it.” His voice
is low, soothing, yet stings enough for her to feel it.
Hiccupping she shakes her head as she tries to voice her upset.
“You are tired. We are going home. You will sleep. When you wake up you will feel better. Use your words. Do not cry and scream.” Tony is firm.
Her little chest moves to take in air. She nods. “I’m tired, Papa.”
“I know, baby girl. We’re almost home. You can close your eyes.”
Nodding, Rosie closes her eyes. Before we make it down the block, she’s asleep.
Vito chuckles from the driver’s seat. “The girl has lungs on her for sure.”
“She’s gotten better.” I defend her as I run a hand over her hair.
“Hmm, she is too old to have such tantrums.” Tony studies her.
Stung, “I’m sorry but not all children are raised with ruthless control the way you were and the way you raised your children. She’s a little girl.”
“She is a Sabatini. And she will learn control over her emotions and patience with the world around her.” The words send a shiver through me.
“How—” I don’t bother asking. I’ll find out, whether I want to or not.
“We are going home. You are going shopping. Lydia will be shopping with you. You need new clothes. Your clothing is only marginally better than it was before. Tomorrow you will have lunch with my nieces and Regina.”