Filed to story: Submitting to My Bestie’s Daddy Read Online >>???
Quiet fell over the suite, aside from my husband’s rustling and muttered curses. My mind drifted back to the worry on his face when I offered up Sal’s confession.
I knew Gio’s fears ran to the professional, but I found that hard to believe of the earnest, lanky man I had dinner with. No, when I thought of the worst thing Sal might do to me, I always returned to the years of hoping my father might turn up. If he left once, he could leave again.
My heart would break if I lost him again. I simply had to be careful, protect myself from getting hurt. I needed to be certain he wouldn’t leave before I really believed he was part of my life.
Gio emerged from the closet clutching a fistful of ties and smirking. “Roll over. I have some ideas of how we can work on your self-control.”
I grinned, banishing all worries from my mind, and did as my husband asked.
*Olivia*
The next day, I lay on the floor of the living room after lunch with Dahlia and Elio while Gio worked upstairs.
One of my many baby books said a focus on fine-motor skills in the first year was vital for the developing infant, so I’d spent weeks researching and buying child-safe paints. They were finally all here, so I’d moved the furniture to the side, rolled out some butcher paper, and allowed Elio his first brush with the world of art in the form of a huge finger-painting canvas. Within minutes, he was covered in every color of paint, making me grateful I’d changed him into a romper he was growing out of.
He scrawled a big green circle and pointed to it enthusiastically. “Mama! Moo!”
I smiled. “Moon.”
Without all his teeth, he still struggled with ending consonants.
Dahlia laughed. “The moon’s not green, little man.”
She picked up the bowl of white, which had smears of almost every other color in it by that point, and scooped up a careful dollop to paint a much neater circle next to Elio’s.
“That’s the moon,” she said.
Elio screwed up his face and placed his sticky hands on the paper to study her drawing more closely.
I laughed. He looked exactly like Gio when he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.
Elio looked at me, brow still furrowed, and pointed to Dahlia’s circle. “Moo?”
I nodded. “The moon is white and comes out at night.”
I grabbed the blue and black, mixed them together in my palm, and scribbled a loose approximation of the night sky around Dahlia’s moon.
“Ny,” he mumbled to himself. “Ny-ty.”
“Nighttime!” I chirped.
Satisfied, He leaned away from the painting, leaving behind two perfectly formed handprints. My eyes welled up a little. Whatever happened to the rest of this page, I would be keeping that piece forever, I knew.
Dahlia met my eye and chuckled. “He’s well on his way to Einstein, of course, you’re proud.”
I stuck my tongue out at her. Elio repeated the gesture, then collapsed into delighted giggles.
I tickled him and hoped Gio never found out he learned that move from me.
After a moment, he began squirming. “Mama! Pay!”
“Pay” was his word for paint, so I released him easily. He dove for the bowl of yellow and began smacking fistfuls of it onto a blank corner of the canvas.
I smiled. “Einstein or Michelangelo, who’s to say?”
Dahlia laughed at me again. “I should’ve known you were going to make an artist out of him.”
I put my hands up. “It’s not my fault he likes it!”
“Yeah, yeah,” she said. “You explain that to Gio.”
We fell into a companionable silence, watching Elio paint haphazardly.
“So,” she said.
I wrinkled my nose. That was her “you owe me details” voice.
She leaned back against the couch. “That dinner with Salvatore was last night, right?”
“You know good and well it was last night.” I shook my head. “You helped me pick out shoes.”
She smacked the heel of her hand against her forehead. “Of course! I just thought I might’ve gotten turned around because you haven’t told me anything about it yet, and my dearest, bestest friend in the world wouldn’t have forgotten such a thing.”
Elio bounced his own hand off his head, leaving a smear of paint, and giggled. Dahlia and I both fell upon him to convince him out of the habit before it stuck, and both of us were a bit more paint-covered by the time we actually got a chance to talk again.
“It went… well.” I took a deep breath. “He apologized, a lot. He seemed genuinely happy Mom remarried, and genuinely interested in hearing about my life and interests.”
Dahlia smirked. “Oh yeah? How much of the conversation was about art history?”
I blushed. “More than most people let me get away with!”
She chuckled. “Seems like a decent sign to me. Now tell me the scary thing you’re worried you shouldn’t say.”
I barely restrained myself from sticking my tongue out at her again. I should’ve known she could read me too well. I couldn’t keep anything from her.
“He also explained why he left.”
Dahlia’s eyebrows shot up, but she simply nodded without saying anything.
I bit my lip. “You know how my mom said she thought he might be in with some crime family? Well, he confirmed it–organized crime, back in New York before we moved.”
Dahlia grimaced. “I’ve heard the New York scene is rough–a lot of competition, not a lot of people who make it further than the bottom rungs.”
“That makes sense.” I took a deep breath. “He said he was low-level.”
She furrowed her eyebrows. “If he was so low, why’d he have to leave? Mostly, bottom-rung guys get hit before they have the chance or never matter enough to need to.”
“Mau!” Elio yelled, pointing to an orangish blob on the paper. I couldn’t tell what it was saying, or what it was supposed to be, so I simply nodded and smiled.
“He said he saw something he shouldn’t have.” I shrugged. “Didn’t say what, just that he knew the heat would come down on Mom and me if he stayed.”
Dahlia nodded. “Have you told Gio yet?”
“I had to,” I said. “He deserved to know, and I don’t want to imagine how angry he’d be if he found out later.”
