Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 154525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 773(@200wpm)___ 618(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 773(@200wpm)___ 618(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling.
“What?” he asked, noticing.
“You’d do all that?”
“Babe, that’s not even...anything. It’s not big or hard. It’s just something you need.”
“But you think about that, do you? About things I need.”
He didn’t look away from her when he replied, “Lately, all the fucking time, Frankie.”
She liked that far more than she probably should.
“So, what’s that?” she asked, pointing at the other item he held.
Square and thin in shape, he’d had it wrapped in brown paper, and a string of twine tied around it in a makeshift bow.
“This,” he said, handing it over to her, “took some time and work.”
She flipped the package over in her hands, trying to guess the item inside by the shape and weight. It almost felt like a picture frame.
“Is it a photo or something?”
“Close,” he murmured. “Open it up. I’m sorry it’s a little late for your birthday. Let’s just call it a late birthday and early graduation gift.”
She undid the twine and started to pull away the paper, never taking her gaze from him until she had the item fully exposed. The abstract art on an eight-inch by eight-inch framed canvas took her by surprise. Waves of teal melted into splatters of white and mixed gold, making the scene on the canvas look like a wave rippling across the plane. Then, she saw the name scrawled in the bottom right corner.
Delilah Dove.
“Someone mentioned your mom was an artist. I guess she did a lot of the murals around Brooklyn for the old restaurants and cafés.”
“Where you did you find this?”
Not even her father kept her mother’s paintings. At least, none she had ever seen. Something else that Salvatore couldn’t bear to look at even if it took something irreplaceable away from Frankie.
“Like I said, it took some work. And time, but nothing is impossible. I’d do anything for you, you know? I just thought maybe you’d want something of hers in this place, too. Something you could see everyday, if you wanted.”
Now, she couldn’t see through the tears.
12. — mother, may I...
Staten Island, New York
Nico, Ashbourne Academy Assembly Hall
“Francesca Dove Gallo!”
While the speaker at the podium went down the list of Frankie’s honors and achievements as a graduate, Nico stood to clap and holler his praise for the beauty strolling down the aisle leading toward the stage. Carina stood beside him, also clapping. She stopped long enough to whistle at the same time her husband did two rows down. Both searched for the other instantly at the sound. One turning back. The other, looking down.
“There you go, baby girl,” Nico murmured, still clapping. Frankie’s confident walk in her cap and gown, and six-inch heels did something to him. He tampered the sudden possession building in his chest down, knowing it wasn’t the time or place. “There you go.”
“One of my proudest achievements, right there,” Carina said to his right. “Not that I’m sure I have any right to claim her or say so, at this point.”
Nico tried not to respond. They hadn’t spoken since the fight, and he didn’t know where to fucking begin with his...mother.
Nico couldn’t help himself, asking, “You mean Frankie?”
Carina sighed, smiling as Frankie shook hands with the three faculty members and took her diploma at the end. She stood for a picture, provided by the event coordinator to the parents. Then, she headed back for her seat.
“Her as a whole? No. That walk in those heels, the way she doesn’t see a soul that she doesn’t want to, though,” Carina replied. “That’s all me. I didn’t realize how much until lately. I mean, I did know. I just...I think seeing her graduate is a full circle moment for me. The whole last few weeks, really.”
“Let me guess, you bought her first pair of heels?”
“God, no. Her daddy did that. Let me just say, she has expensive taste, and for that, you can thank the both of us. The first time I met her, she had these little boots on with a one-inch heel. Chunky, you know. Safe for a kid. She liked mine better, though. Told me so. I guess they were prettier, or something. I can’t remember exactly what she said.”
Her tone said she did remember.
Nico and Carina finally took their seats along with Salvatore and Sissy lower down after Frankie returned to her seat. .
“She watched me prep for Fashion Week once, shortly after Sal and I married. My last Fashion Week. Ever. I was seconds from death from how that prep felt. They had me walking in patent leather and platform stilettos for the last show. Down three steps to hit the runway. I was freaking out.”
“So, you were really prepping,” he noted.
Carina’s head bobbed. “Oh, yeah. Barely drinking water. Not eating a fucking thing. Already being told I was too old to be doing it. And then there she was, all little and observant in the corner. She watched me walk the hallway a few hundred times, easily, and never said a word.”