Page 38 of Bellini Born
Before Summer could say anything else, Bianca grabbed my hand and tugged me toward the table she’d abandoned upon my arrival. “Come look, Papa!”
I trailed her across the room, and when we came to a stop, she beamed up at me proudly. “I can do nails!”
On the table was a scrap of cardboard, where it looked like Summer had traced both her hands in marker. There were several discarded bottles of nail polish nearby, but it looked like Bianca had been painting the pretend nails on the outlined hands. Since she was only four, she lacked the ability to stay within the lines, and the colorful polish was haphazardly spread across the cardboard.
“Wow, great work,principessa,” I praised.
“Your turn!” Her grip on my hand tightened, and she reached for one of the bottles.
“Uh, I don’t think . . .”
Her rosebud lips pursed into a pout. “But Summer let me do hers.”
My gaze honed in on the woman in question, and I found her sheepishly lifting a hand, a messy paint job coloring the tips of her fingers.
From across the room, she mouthed,Sorry.
“Come on, Papa. I’ll make you pretty!” Bianca insisted, and reality began to sink in that I was stuck. I had many flaws, andbeing unable to say no to my daughter was undoubtedly at the top of the list.
As I lowered onto one of the chairs that was so small I had to balance on one butt cheek, Summer rose to her feet.
Picking up Serafina, she lifted my baby girl into the air, placing her nose directly against her diapered bottom. “Oh, would you look at that? Someone needs a change.”
I could hear the hint of a smile in her voice, indicating she was stretching the truth as an excuse to leave the room and allow me to hold onto a shred of my dignity as I let my four-year-old give me a manicure.
She began to walk toward the door, but over her shoulder, she said, “Go easy on him, B. I have a feeling this is his first time.”
“Uh-huh,” Bianca murmured, her tongue caught between her teeth as she concentrated on moving the brush over my thumbnail.
Once Summer was gone, I shook my head in amusement that all three of these girls had me wrapped around their fingers.
A scream woke me out of a dead sleep, and muscle memory had me reaching for my gun. By the time my hand yanked open the top drawer of my nightstand, the grogginess cleared enough for me to realize what was happening.
Bianca’s nightmares were back.
Fuck. I thought we’d gotten over this months ago.
Groaning, I rolled out of bed, digging fingers into my tired eyes as I mentally prepared to crawl into bed with my daughter, where I’d get very little sleep as she kicked the ever-loving shit out of me for the rest of the night.
When I stepped into the hallway, I stopped short, seeing that the door to her room was cracked open, a soft light glowing from within.
Quietly padding closer, I peeked inside to find Summer had beaten me to comforting my daughter. The two of them were curled up together on the mattress, sitting up against the headboard. Tear tracks glittered on Bianca’s face, but Summer gently thumbed the moisture away.
Since Summer seemingly had it handled, I kept out of sight, watching their whispered exchange.
“Wanna talk about it? That always helps me when I have a nightmare.”
A soft sniffle sounded from my daughter. “Y-you have bad dreams too?”
“Mm-hmm.” Summer ran a hand down Bianca’s hair. “Everyone does sometimes.”
“What are yours about?”
“When I was little like you, I fell out of a tree and broke my arm. But in my dreams, the tree is very, very tall, and it feels like I’m falling forever. And it’s really scary.”
Bianca’s glassy eyes blinked slowly as drowsiness crept back in, and her head drooped against Summer’s side. Just when I thought she might pass out, she said softly, “My mamma is far away, and I keep running, but I never get closer. I just want to hug her.”
Those words were like a fucking knife slicing through my heart. My beautiful little girl no longer had a mother because ofme, and I would carry that guilt around with me for as long as I lived.
