Page 64 of Thin Lives

Emma just wanted her baby to have a little more time to prepare for the world. She worried that Affonso coming home in one of his moods and taking his suspicions and anger out on her might do the baby more harm than anything else.

“Good,” Sherry finally replied, giving Emma a conspiratorial grin. “God knows he wouldn’t worry too much over you, hmm?”

Sadly, that was all too true.

Sherry winked and straightened, making a beeline for the island as footsteps began to echo somewhere outside of the kitchen. Emma braced for the onslaught of what was about to come. The girls—Affonso’s daughters, Michelle and Cynthia—hadn’t been home for more than a couple of days, but the added presences in the house didn’t help Emma’s anxiety levels.

She loved Affonso’s daughters, to be sure.

While she hated him, she adored them.

Even Michelle, when the girl was in a mood and acting out. It didn’t matter—Emma saw the behavior for what it was. It wasn’t all too long ago that Emma was in the very same position that Michelle was. A young girl growing up in a materialistic environment that was meant to make up for the lack of love and affection she needed from her father.

And sometimes, acting out was the only way to get that attention.

But right then, the girls were worried for their father. Affonso had asked they not come to the hospital, as he didn’t want them seeing him in that position. He had talked to them once over the phone, but it hadn’t been for long, and it mostly consisted of the girls bickering with one another while Affonso cursed on the other line about the nurses and morphine.

Michelle and Cynthia just wanted their dad.

Emma didn’t want him at all.

It was a strange situation, though the girls couldn’t possibly know how Emma truly felt. She was torn between hating the man and wanting him to stay the hell away, and sympathizing for his daughters, both of whom she cared deeply for.

She didn’t know what was the right thing to do, so she plastered on a fake smile as Michelle and Cynthia strolled into the kitchen sporting bedhead, baggy pajamas, and bleary eyes. Her problems with Affonso, and all of the secrets she was being forced to carry, were not the burdens of these young teenagers.

They shouldn’t have to carry them.

Emma wouldn’t allow them to.

Not if she had any say.

“Morning, girls,” Emma said, making sure there wasn’t even a hint of worry or sadness to her tone. It was the best she could do for Cynthia and Michelle. She certainly wasn’t doing it for Affonso. “Sherry made your favorite—waffles.”

Michelle barely passed Emma a glance, as she was too busy wiping at her eyes between staring at the phone in her hand. Cynthia, though, pulled out a chair closest to Emma and sat down. The oldest of the two daughters tried to smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Do you think we could go visit Daddy today?” Cynthia asked.

Emma had to force herself not to frown. She despised Affonso more for refusing his daughters, at the very least, the relief of seeing him recovering and getting well. When they had heard the news, it had all ended in a melting pot of crying, sobbing, and demands to come home from boarding school. Without Affonso’s permission, Emma had the girls sent home.

“Probably not,” Emma said. “You know he doesn’t want you to see him like that.”

Michelle scowled as she sat down, and a plate of waffles was shoved in front of her face. “Or he just doesn’t want to see us at all.”

“That’s not it.”

Cynthia glared at her sister. “Don’t act like such a bitch, Michelle. He almost died.”

“You’re a fucking bi—”

“Okay,” Emma said, stopping the girls before they could really get started. “That’s quite enough, you two.”

She held both hands up, hoping it would act as a proverbial wall between the two and keep them from spitting more hurtful words at one another. With those two, it was hard to tell. Some days, they acted as though they loved one another fiercely, and then the next, they were clawing at each other’s throats every chance they could.

Having grown up as an only child, Emma had not been privy to the sort of strange and complex relationship that grew between siblings. Especially siblings that had gone through as much in their short lifetime as Michelle and Cynthia had with losing their mother, and having a mob boss for a father who just couldn’t find it in himself to care about his children.

She wished she could understand them better.

If for nothing else, to help them.