Chapter 7
I asked Livia one question that evening.
“Did Bianca ever tell you what would happen after the wedding?”
She nodded.
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“She said we’d be a real family.”
“That sounds nice.”
Livia frowned.
“She said real families don’t need old mommies.”
I went completely still.
Rosalie closed her eyes.
“What else?”
“She said I could call her Mommy.”
“Did you want to?”
Livia shook her head immediately.
“What happened when you said no?”
She looked down.
“Bianca got sad.”
Child language.
I knew what it probably meant.
“How sad?”
“She said Daddy would be sad too.”
My jaw tightened.
She had used me again.
“She said you wanted me to practice.”
I crouched.
“I didn’t.”
Livia looked relieved.
That hurt.
“How many times did she ask?”
She held up fingers.
Too many to count correctly.
Then:
“She said after wedding, Sofia picture goes away.”
My chest tightened.
“Did she say where?”
“Box.”
“What box?”
“Storage.”
I looked at Rosalie.
Her face had gone pale.
“There are packed boxes in the west hall.”
We opened them.
Not wedding supplies.
Livia’s things.
Old toys.
Baby photographs.
Sofia’s belongings.
Everything connected to my daughter’s life before Bianca.
Labeled for storage.
Already packed.
I stared at the boxes.
The wedding had not even happened.
Bianca had planned the erasure in advance.
She appeared behind me.
“You keep everything.”
I turned.
“These belong to my daughter.”
“They’re clutter.”
“One box contains her mother’s letters.”
“She can read them when she’s older.”
“According to who?”
Bianca said nothing.
I stepped closer.
“You were planning Livia’s grief without asking me.”
“No.”
Her voice sharpened.
“I was planning our life.”
There.
Her mistake.
May you like
Our life.
But in Bianca’s mind, Livia was something that needed reorganizing before that life could begin.
