Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Ezio
Saturday morning at seven, I stood in my walk-in closet, staring at a whole wall of shirts, and realized I had no idea which one to pick.
Black was too severe, white too deliberate, gray... I stared at that light gray casual shirt for five seconds, pulled it down, and hung it back up. Too much like going to a meeting.
Carmen stood in the doorway, holding a cup of coffee, watching me with an expression I'd never seen before.
She'd worked for us three years, seen me cut through business deals like a blade, seen me drinking alone in my study at three a.m. But she'd probably never seen me standing in my closet, agonizing over what to wear.
"Sir," she finally spoke, her voice hiding a trace of laughter, "need help?"
"No."
I chose a navy polo, collar just exposing my collarbone, paired with charcoal slacks. Not formal, not casual. I checked the mirror, rolled up the sleeves twice, showing my forearms.
Carmen's mouth twitched.
"Is the car ready?" I asked.
"Ready. Miss is already eating breakfast, very excited."
I nodded and headed downstairs.
Juliet sat at the dining table in a pink dress with tiny flowers, hair in two braids tied with matching ribbons. Her stuffed rabbit was tucked under her arm, ears dangling and bouncing.
"Daddy!" She jumped off her chair when she saw me. "When's Vivi coming?"
"We're meeting her at the park."
"Then let's go, let's go!" She grabbed my hand and pulled, nearly tripping over the chair leg.
"Slow down."
"I don't wanna slow down! I wanna see Vivi now!"
She dragged me through the hallway, out the door, toward the car waiting outside. Carmen followed with the rabbit backpack, wearing a helpless smile.
As we drove out of the Upper East Side, Juliet pressed her face against the window, watching the streets fly past, talking nonstop. "Are we there yet? How much longer? Daddy, look, that cloud looks like a rabbit!"
I watched her in the rearview mirror, remembering this time last year. She'd stared at a crying child in a restaurant being comforted by her mother, and when she noticed me looking, she'd turned and smiled at me like she hadn't just been the one feeling envious.
"Daddy!" Juliet's voice pulled me back. "Are we there?"
"Almost."
The park entrance was crowded. I paid for tickets and led Juliet inside. She stood on tiptoes, looking everywhere, the ribbons in her braids fluttering in the wind.
Then she let go of my hand and ran.
"Vivi!"
She crashed into someone's arms.
Olivia stood under a tree by the ticket booth, wearing a white cotton shirt and light blue jeans, hair in a low ponytail with loose strands blowing across her face. She crouched down and caught Juliet, holding her tight.
"Vivi! You came!" Juliet's voice was high and bright, like a freshly shaken soda ready to fizz over.
"I promised you. Happy birthday, sweetheart." Olivia pulled satin dance shoes from her bag, glittering in the sunlight. "This is for you. I hope you like it."
Juliet took them and threw her arms around Olivia's neck, planting a big kiss on her cheek. "I love it, love it! Love it so much! Thank you, Miss Vivi!"
Olivia smiled with relief, stroking Juliet's head tenderly. She looked up and saw me standing a few steps away. Her expression shifted—brief, like a door opening a crack then slamming shut.
"Morning," I said.
"Morning," she said.
Then neither of us spoke.
Juliet stood between us, grabbing my hand with her left, Olivia's with her right, pulling hard.
"Come on, come on! I wanna ride the carousel!"
When the carousel music started, Juliet sat on a pink horse, gripping the pole, grinning so wide the gap between her front teeth showed. Olivia stood beside her, one hand on Juliet's waist, the other on the candy-colored railing.
I stood outside the fence, watching them.
Sunlight filtered through the tree branches, landing on Olivia's hair—golden, mixing with the loose strands at the end of her ponytail until I couldn't tell where the light ended and she began.
She turned to say something to Juliet. Juliet giggled, and she smiled too—a small upturn of her lips, brief, like something accidentally revealed then quickly hidden.
I stood there watching that smile, feeling something crack inside my chest. Quiet, splitting down the middle, and through that crack poured every late night of the past five years, every sleepless hour, every sweater I'd pulled from the drawer then put back.
"Daddy!" Juliet waved from the carousel. "Look at me!"
I raised my phone and took a picture. In the frame, behind Juliet, was Olivia's profile.
She was thinner than five years ago. Much thinner. Hollows below her collarbones, wrists thin as twigs. But her eyes were the same—green, turning almost amber in the sunlight.
I put the phone away without looking again.
After the carousel, Juliet tried the flying elephants, bumper cars, and pirate ship. She was fearless, wanting to try everything. Olivia rode the flying elephants with her, coming off a little pale but still smiling as she wiped the sweat from Juliet's forehead.
"Were you scared, Vivi?" Juliet looked up at her.
"A little." Olivia knelt down and fixed her windblown braids.
"That's okay, next time, I'll protect you!"
Olivia's expression softened even more, gentle as a statue of the Virgin Mary in a church.
I watched her, my heart nearly spiraling out of control.
Lunch was at a restaurant inside the park. Juliet sat by the window across from a large aquarium with red, yellow, and striped fish swimming around. After a few bites of pasta, she couldn't sit still anymore, pressing against the glass, talking to the fish.
Only Olivia and I remained at the table.
She stared down, pushing pasta around her plate with a fork. Not eating, just pushing.
"Thank you for coming today," I said.
"I didn't come for you."
"I know."
She looked up at me briefly. That look held wariness and exhaustion.
"Juliet's very happy," I said. "She hasn't been this happy in a long time."
"Isn't she usually happy?"
"She is," I paused. "But it's different."
She didn't respond.
"After you left," I said, "every night she'd hold her rabbit and ask where Mommy went. I didn't know what to say, so I told her Mommy went somewhere far away."
Her fingers tightened on the fork.
"Eventually, she stopped asking," I said.
"Ezio—"
"I know," I interrupted her. "I know this is my fault. I stood outside that delivery room and watched them take her away. I couldn't do anything."
Her eyes reddened.
"What are you trying to say?" Her voice was hoarse. "That you regret it? That these five years have been hard for you?"
"I just want you to know, these five years apart, I've been—"
"Enough!" She dropped the fork, looking at me. Something burned in those green eyes. "Five years ago, you let Bianca move in, let her take my child. Will any of this change that?! I begged you how many times? Did you ever listen to me once?"
My throat felt blocked, my heart ached dully. After a long moment, I managed hoarsely, "I'm sorry. It won't happen again. Bianca won't appear in front of you anymore."
She was momentarily speechless, but quickly said, "That doesn't mean anything."
I looked at her like she was a stubborn stone. "Olivia, what do I have to do for you to trust me again?"
She didn't answer. She lowered her head and kept pushing pasta around her plate.
Suffocating silence stretched between us.
I knew I'd made many mistakes, caused that five-year void between us. I owed her too much. I genuinely wanted to make amends, but facing someone I'd hurt so deeply, I truly didn't know what to do.
Juliet ran back, leaning on Olivia's leg, looking up. "Vivi, that blue fish keeps looking at me!"
Olivia's furrowed brow instantly relaxed, her lips curving slightly. The heavy atmosphere shattered.
I exhaled, almost grateful for Juliet's timing.
"Because it likes you." Olivia set down her fork and lifted her onto her lap. Juliet nestled against her, pointing at the tank, chattering away.
I sat across from them as sunlight passed over me and fell on them.
Something fermented in my chest, and I became absolutely certain of one thing.
No matter how much Olivia hated me, she belonged by my side.
At four p.m., Juliet finally tired. She slumped against Olivia's shoulder, eyelids drooping, still mumbling "wanna play more." Olivia carried her from the rides to the parking lot, arms trembling, but refusing to put Juliet down.
"Let me carry her," I said.
"No need."
"You can't hold her anymore."
"I said no need."
Her voice was hard, but her arms were shaking badly. Juliet was six, not light, and Olivia's wrists were so thin I felt they could snap.
I didn't say more. I walked beside them, using my body to block the wind from the side.
At the car, Olivia placed Juliet in the back seat and buckled her in. Half-asleep, Juliet grabbed her sleeve and wouldn't let go.
"Vivi, will you come tomorrow?"
"Not tomorrow. Your teacher has things to do."
"What about the day after?"
Olivia didn't answer. She lowered her head and kissed Juliet's forehead.
"Sleep now," she said. "Next time your teacher comes, show me your new moves."
Juliet murmured agreement, closed her eyes, and slowly released her grip.
Olivia backed out of the car and shut the door. She stood beside it, head down, shoulders shaking.
"Olivia," I said.
She looked up. Her eyes were red, but she wasn't crying. Not one tear. That redness was burned in, something pressed down too long finally seeping through.
"Thank you," I said.
"Don't mention it." Her voice was flat, stripped of emotion. "I just didn't want to disappoint my daughter."
My daughter.
When those words came from her mouth, something slammed hard into my chest.
"Next Saturday," I said, "she wants to go to the Natural History Museum."
Her brow furrowed. "Ezio..."
"I won't go every time," I said. "You can take her yourself."