Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Camille is halfway across the boutique before I can blink. She pauses in front of a display of colorful children’s outfits, and her eyes light up when she plucks a frilly lavender dress from the rack. When she holds it up, I nod in approval.
Two seconds later, she darts into the changing room. When she exits in her selection, her chin is raised and her hands are on her hips.
I clap and wolf-whistle. “Work it, girl!”
She beams silently, then disappears again.
This time, she returns in a denim jacket covered in patches of stars, hearts, and a tiny embroidered cat and a matching skirt. She spins slowly, then strikes a pose. I laugh louder than intended when I notice her duck face. My giggles bounce off the boutique’s polished floors and gains me the devotion of Dante’s eyes.
I smile at him, his daughter’s happiness too infectious to act cordial.
“If you don’t want her to be a model, you might want to put a stop to this. She’s going to put real models out of business.”
He chips at my armor with a perfect reply. “You can be anything you want, can’t you, sweetheart?”
Camille’s nod confirms this isn’t the first time her father has said that to her.
Grabbing my hand, Camille tugs me toward a rack of adult clothes. Before I can protest, she holds up a soft cream sweater to my torso and twists her lips like a fashion critic would.
A smile inclines my cheeks when she screws up her nose in disapproval before she moves on to another item. This time, she nods after holding up her selection. Then she forces me into the changing room. I could never afford the steep price of the dress, but I take it off the hanger anyway and slip into the heavenly soft wrap dress.
When I spin to get Camille’s approval, she gasps and slaps her hands to her cheeks. She gestures for me to walk, and I do, feeling both ridiculous and fancy. I finish my catwalk sashay with a flashy spin, and Camille claps while bouncing on her toes.
Over the next thirty minutes, Camille chooses outfits for me, and I choose outfits for her. Our selections are wildly different. One time, it’s a floral skirt with a sparkly cardigan. Next, it’s a pair of boots and low-riding jeans.
We laugh without words, and more than once, I imagine what it’ll be like to experience this with Gabriele. I doubt he’d pick the floral patterns Camille seems to love. He’d go for the plane-printed clothes that match the model airplanes hanging above the register.
He loves planes. Always has. During our phone calls, he points them out in the sky while babbling facts he’s memorized. He loves anything that moves, but jumbo jets are his favorite.
By the time we’re done, Camille has a pile of her favorite pieces draped over a salesclerk’s arms—four dresses, two jackets, multiple skirts and shirts, and a pair of glittery sneakers she refuses to put down.
She directs her eyes upward at me, waiting for approval.
“I’m sure Daddy will love everything you’ve picked,” I say, raking my fingers through her frazzled hair, fixing it in place.
Her smile could power the city.
We walk toward the counter together, my heart overflowing with happiness. As the cashier wraps up the purchases I hope Dante approves of, I wander over to a display shelf beside the counter. A model plane, which would make Gabriele’s eyes light up with glee, sits on top of a gift box.
I pick up the plane and turn it over. The price tag is a fragile reminder that I’ll struggle to give Gabriele the lifestyle he’s used to when I’m awarded custody. The plane cost double what I pay in rent each month. It’s too much for me to consider buying. Way too much.
Even if I could afford it, Edoardo would never give me an address to forward it to anyway. It would sit in the dust at the bottom of my closet, along with Gabriele’s birthday presents from the past four years. I’m better off waiting until I’m close to the amount I agreed to pay before splurging on luxuries.
My throat constricts as I carefully place the plane back on the shelf, treating it as fragilely as I now feel.
Will I ever get to take Gabriele shopping? Will I ever see his face light up over something he loves? Or will I always be shunted to the sidelines, imagining moments I may never have?
I force an impassive expression when a shadow moves in my peripheral vision. Dante steps out from the tailored section of the boutique. He’s wearing a suit. A perfectly fitted charcoal-gray suit that makes his panty-wetting looks even more devastating. It causes my heart to do something it shouldn’t be doing. It thumps loudly.
After adjusting the cuffs, he glances up. I freeze when his eyes lock on the receipt longer than the grocery bill of a mother of ten, before they shift to the half a dozen boutique bags Camille is wrangling into submission.