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“I didn’t ask you,” he answers. “Besides, what you think is good now turns out to be a real pain in the buttocks when you’re married.”
I chuckle a little and Enzo offers me a tiny grin. “All right. I better go home. I might just make it in time to eat. I’ll talk to my daughter for you, but no guarantees.”
“Got it. Thank you, Mr. Cammareri. I appreciate that you’re willing to try.”
He clicks his tongue. “Someday you may not appreciate it that much.”
“No, I’ll appreciate this every day for the rest of my life. I know I will because loving your daughter is the most important thing I’ll ever do.”
His eyes fill with tears and he mutters, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You’re tomato paste. Poor bastard.”
37
Angry Packing and Unwanted Advice
Allie
“Why don’t you bring a bathing suit? I’m sure the hotel has a hot tub and it’ll be good for your bones after that long flight,” my mom says.
“Meh, I really don’t feel like being in a swimsuit around people I work with.” The truth is, I don’t feel like going. Not even one bit. I’m bitter and angry and furious and … what’s another word for angry? Filled with rage. Well, that’s a phrase, but it fits. I’m also late. I should have left for the airport already, only I couldn’t bring myself to pack on account of all the rage.
“Why not? If I still had a body like yours, I’d be walking around in a bikini all year,” she tells me.
I open my underwear drawer and count out six pairs, then toss them in the general location of my open suitcase. “It’s not about how I look. It’s about me trying to get some respect, which is apparently the world’s biggest uphill battle for some stupid reason. On a hill made entirely of ice and I’m wearing Teflon shoes.”
My mom picks up my pajama pants and folds them neatly, then places them in properly. “I wish I knew what to say to make you feel better, tesora. What’s happening is not fair, but I still believe it’s going to work out.”
“Why on earth would you think that?” I ask, zipping up my overstuffed suitcase.
“Because it’s true. You’ve worked so hard for so long, and it doesn’t matter if some actor is going to get credit for your invention as far as the public goes. What we all think means nothing. None of us even know what the hell you do. Everybody who knows will know.”
Sighing, I say, “I guess.”
I pick up my passport and stuff it in my handbag while my mom calls down the stairs. “Enzo! Allegra’s ready to go. Come get her suitcase.”
“Ma, I can carry my own luggage.”
“Not down the stairs.”
“Of course down the stairs,” I say, giving her my handbag. I sling my laptop bag over my shoulder, then pick up my insanely heavy suitcase and fight my way to the front door just as my dad comes out of his den. “You ready?”
“All set. You two have a wonderful week. I’ll see you when I get home.”
He shakes his head at me. “What are you talking about? I’m taking you to the airport.”
Oh God, I do not have time to go dad-speed right now. “No, that’s okay. It’s too much trouble. You’d have to drive there, then turn around and drive all the way back here. I’ll drive myself.” Holding out my arms, I say, “Okay. Let’s hug it out, then I really have to run.”
He waves off my hug and picks up my suitcase. “I’m taking you.”
Ma nods. “Your father is taking you. End of discussion.”
I open my mouth, but he says, “I need to talk to you.”
Crap. He’s been trying to convince me to give Hudson a second chance since he showed up last Sunday, but I’m not having it. To be honest, I feel pretty damn betrayed that my own father would take his side. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“It’s not about that. It’s something else. Something important.”
I narrow my eyes at him, and he says, “For real. Let’s go.”
