Chapter 7

SEVEN

Francesca

“ D addy! We’re home!”

Sofia flew into the apartment like a jet, even to the point of letting her arms fly out behind her like a tiny kite racing through the sky. Xavier always laughed when she did that, calling it her anime run. According to him, all kids in Japan flew around the playgrounds that way, imitating their favorite cartoon characters. Hilariously, it seemed to demonstrate her pedigree to him more than anything else—especially when he zoomed after her with the force of a B-52.

“Bean!” I called from the elevator. “Shoes off, babe.”

“Oh, right.”

Obediently, Sofia trotted back to the front door and toed off her sneakers—new ones that Xavier had bought her last week, which had unicorns on the sides. She tipped them onto the pile of other shoes that buried the sleek rack by the door. The rack itself was only good for propping up umbrellas and the occasional grocery bag. But that didn’t stop it from becoming the catch-all for coats, shoes, bags, and the other debris of a family coming and going.

It was a mess, but it was our mess.

After a month in London, Sofia had truly made herself at home in her father’s apartment, and it showed. Multiple parts of the penthouse had been completely refurnished—some because they simply could not withstand the wear and tear of a four-year-old (read: pink glitter paint spilled all over a white angora rug), and some simply because Xavier decided at one point that he wanted the place to feel more “homey.” The white and chrome furniture had largely disappeared within the first week, supplanted by worn antiques, overstuffed furniture, and more than a few pieces with a faintly East Asian feel to them. It was no less luxurious, even now, when the living room was scattered with the remains of a Lego set and the contents of a fake kitchen in the corner. Even the piano no one played had been replaced with an enormous indoor playset that essentially designated that part of the floor as Sofia’s private jungle gym.

The place all but belonged to her.

We’d also settled into something of a routine. Although Xavier frequently took an afternoon or two off each week to join us, Sofia and I were generally on our own during the days. We were left with Ben, Xavier’s driver, to explore London and the surrounding areas while Xavier worked at one of too many restaurants to count. On top of managing his properties in London, he and Jagger were retrofitting one of the original izakayas he’d started with his mother’s recipes, alongside taking a day trip to Paris here and there to plan another international opening. Sofia and I had tagged along there too, and those trips had been fun. She particularly loved Disneyland Paris, the Eiffel Tower, and pains au chocolat.

Playing tourists, though, had its downside. It was already August, and I was running out of things to do with my daughter each day. She only had so much patience for museums and shopping. We’d visited the Tower of London and Big Ben at least three times, had explored every nook and cranny of Buckingham Palace, enjoyed Hyde Park several times per week, and had ridden the London Eye to the point I was ready to jump off the top into the Thames for a reprieve. I was still dying to explore the British Library more, not to mention visit Cambridge and Oxford. But I hadn’t had the guts to ask for a day to myself when Xavier was working so hard. More than that, though, I was simply ready for a break from the city. London was a lot.

Sofia was feeling fatigued as well and getting more than a little homesick. She missed her friends. Her preschool teacher, Ms. Talia. And her family most of all. We FaceTimed each evening with at least one of her aunts, her uncle, or Nonna, but it wasn’t enough. We needed more to do. Or at least a deeper purpose for being here.

As if on cue, my phone blared to life as I dropped my bags on the kitchen counter, which, like the rest of the apartment, was covered in Sofia’s debris of half-finished drawings and art supplies.

Okay, maybe we didn’t need purpose so much as the housekeeper to come more than twice a week.

“No, no, no screens!”

Sofia skittered away to her room at the familiar FaceTime ring. She particularly disliked talking to her family members through a camera. What was a novelty at first had turned into a chore, and now she ended each conversation asking when they were going to visit, only to burst into tears when they admitted they were not anytime soon.

“Hey, Lea,” I answered the phone, propping it against a stack of books on the kitchen counter so I could set down my purse and get myself a glass of water. “Just me today. Bug isn’t in the mood to talk.”

“No worries,” she said. “How’s the palace?”

I rolled my eyes. Lea had a habit of making everything about Xavier’s money. I knew it was because she and her husband were basically scraping by off his garage salary and the bits she made helping with the books.

“Cluttered,” I joked. “Sofia has made every room her playroom now. Yesterday she constructed a fort in Xavier’s office and he won’t let her take it down. It was the last frontier.”

“Sounds about right. And good for her. Xavier got to skip the first four years of child mess, so it’s only fair she catches him up. So, has he popped the question yet?”

I scowled at the screen, then checked that Sofia was really and truly out of earshot. “You could at least ask if Sofia is around before you do that, you know.”

“Please. Like that little girl isn’t secretly hoping to high heaven that her parents have a big white wedding where she can be the flower girl. And be honest. You telling me you don’t want to be a real life duchess either?”

My stomach twisted. I had to admit, the thought had occurred to me more than once. Yesterday, we’d passed a boutique on Bond Street with the most beautiful lace wedding dress I’d ever seen. Long sleeves, V-neck, full skirt. It would have overwhelmed a short person like me, but that didn’t stop me from imagining what it would be like to walk down the aisle of an old Gothic church with a forty-foot train. Especially if the man waiting for me at the other end had blue eyes, black hair, and a penchant for cursing when he was really excited.

I shook my head. “Still. Don’t you think it’s a little soon to be asking that question? Especially every time I talk to you?”

“No,” Lea replied immediately as she started yanking out some bread and peanut butter from the fridge. She slapped them on the counter and began making sandwiches with the crisp, no-nonsense movements of a mess hall cook.

“No,” parroted Tommy. Or maybe it was Petey. The screen was blurry. One of my nephews had jumped across the screen so fast I couldn’t really tell who it was.

“Pete, did I not tell you to get your shoes on? If I don’t see those laces tied in five minutes, I’ll make you wish you’d chosen the Velcro in ways you don’t want to imagine, sir.” Lea turned back to me placidly, as if she hadn’t just threatened her seven-year-old. “I swear to God, summer camps are gonna be the death of me. Every day, a new time, new things. If it’s not one kid who gets kicked out, it’s the other. I should send one to London with you just to give Xavier a taste of his own medicine.”

I could only laugh. Parenting was a language Lea and I spoke fluently outside of our other siblings, and she seemed to appreciate an outlet, as she was inundated with the stressors of four children to my one. I didn’t envy her that. Just Sofia overwhelmed me most of the time.

“Besides,” I said, continuing the conversation from before. “It hasn’t even been eight months since we ran into each other at that party. And not even two since we officially got back together. Not everyone is you and Mike, you know. Running off to Atlantic City isn’t really my jam, and it’s definitely not Xavier’s.”

Lea applied jelly to the sandwiches with an audible slap. “Under normal circumstances, I’d agree with you, babe—Tommy, I said get your shoes on now. But this is different. You’ve already been involved, the two of you were pining for each other for five years, and you have a freaking child together already. You moved there. So, what’s he waiting for? A divine sign from God?”

“I was never pining for Xavier,” I protested weakly. I couldn’t exactly argue the other two points.

“Frankie.”

“Fine, but there was no way you knew.”

“Frankie.”

“Shut up, Lea. You don’t know everything.”

My sister just chuckled, clearly thinking otherwise. In her highchair next to Lea, where she was playing with some mashed peas, baby Lupe gave a squawk as if to agree with her mother.

“Oh, I meant to ask—I have a bunch of baby clothes this one just grew out of. Since we are officially done with the child-rearing over here, do you want me to set them aside? They’re the only cute girl’s clothes I ever bought.”

I frowned. “What? Why would I want baby clothes? Sofia is four.”

Lea gave me her patented “what are you, stupid?” expression through the camera. “For your next one, obviously.”

I cocked my head. “As far as I know, there is no next one. Getting a little ahead of ourselves, aren’t we?”

Lea huffed, then turned to baby Lupe and tapped her nose. “Aunt Frankie is clueless, isn’t she, sweet girl?” Then she turned back to me. “Frankie, don’t be dense. I assume the Kitchen Duke over there wants you to stay in London permanently. Inviting you there this summer was obviously a trial run.”

“A trial run for what? Being the world’s greatest tourist?”

Nervously, I glanced over my shoulder to check that Sofia wasn’t eavesdropping. There was no sign of her, which likely meant she was still playing with dolls and avoiding the camera.

“No, you dummy. For living together. For marriage. Now it’s been a month. That’s long enough to know whether it’s going to work.”

“Lea, there’s a lot more that goes into it. Sofia would have to be enrolled in school. We’d have to bring the rest of my things here. He hasn’t said a word about us staying past August.”

“Exactly,” she said. “So, what’s taking him so long?”

I opened my mouth to protest some more but found I couldn’t. Not quite. Because the truth is, my brain had led me down the same strange path.

There had been a few more moments, too, when I’d almost thought he was going to do it. A few nights when we were out to dinner or after Sofia had gone to bed and we were enjoying a glass of wine together in the onsen. He’d given me this look, and the blue of his eyes had positively sparkled. And I could have sworn he was going to say something. Ask me something.

But he never did.

“Nothing,” I lied in the end. “It’s probably not something he is thinking about any more than I am.”

Lies. All dirty, rotten lies.

“Anyway, tell me what’s new with you?” I pressed. “Did Tommy win his baseball game last weekend?”

At that, Lea launched into a play-by-play of her eldest’s game, leaving me to zone out while I sipped water. It was only when we had finally signed off sometime past six o’clock, and Sofia wandered in looking for food, that I wondered where in the heck Xavier was.

So, apparently, did she.

“Mama? Where’s Daddy?”

Before I could answer, the elevator doors opened, and Elsie walked into the apartment, sensible shoes squeaking on the marble floor.

“There you are!” she exclaimed. “We’ve been trying to reach you for the last hour, loves.”

I glanced at my phone, which now bore a raft of messages and missed calls from both Xavier and Elsie.

Xavier: running late at Chez Miso. Swing by for dinner with Sof? I’ll have the chef make her something off-menu.

Xavier: You home yet? Or stuck in the tube? What have you been up to today?

Xavier: Ces, where are you? Getting worried.

I cringed guiltily and sent a quick message letting him know I was all right and with Elsie. “Sorry, I was on the phone with my sister. Everything okay?”

Elsie nodded. “Everything’s fine. The boy just wanted you to know he had to put out some fires at Chez Miso tonight. The chef there is being a real pill and walked out for the fourth time, if you can believe that, so Xavier had to step in and cover. Again. Between you and me, I’m not sure he’ll take him back this time.”

I frowned. “Oh dear.”

At this point, I’d been around long enough to hear more than one rant about the various chefs in Xavier’s employ. They seemed like a moody type, and while Xavier dearly loved to cook, I was certain he didn’t like being taken advantage of. Especially when it came to his time.

“Is there anything I can do?” I wondered.

“No, dear. That’s why I’m here, checking to see if there is anything you need. Groceries or dinner, maybe? The boy won’t be home until very late, I’m afraid, and if I know him, that fridge is empty.”

I looked at my phone. “He did ask us to come to the restaurant. But now it’s almost six, and Sofia’s bedtime is seven thirty. I think it’s a bit late for her to be going out again.”

“Of course,” Elsie agreed. “Little Miss needs her beauty sleep, doesn’t she?”

“And dinner.”

I checked the fridge. Though I’d been keeping it full of snacks, Xavier generally took care of evening meals. And it was, unfortunately, bereft of anything I could manage. Down the hall, I could hear the clear sounds of Sofia singing one of the Moana songs in her bedroom.

“Actually, Elsie, I know it’s outside of your job description, but would you be interested in?—”

“Babysitting? I thought you’d never ask!”

Elsie, I’d discovered, had a very bad case of granny lust—which was unfortunate, since she had no children to provide her with said grandkids. Xavier was the closest thing she had to a son, and so she was always offering to take care of Sofia, who equally adored her.

“If you don’t mind,” I replied gratefully. “Sofia can’t go, but I’d like to check in on Xavi, especially if he’s had a hard day. Maybe if he can bear giving up some power to one of the sous-chefs, I can pry him away from the stove, too.”

Elsie looked doubtful at the idea but nodded anyway. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up, my dear, but certainly, the boy would be glad to see you.” A crease formed between her brows as she considered. “Just be careful.”

I frowned. “Careful with what?”

Elsie grimaced. “With him. He’s in one of his moods tonight. Best to be quick, in and out.”

What exactly did she mean by that? Xavier was mercurial, yes, but it had never been something I couldn’t handle. Generally, when he had had a long day, all it took was a glass of wine and one of Sofia’s impromptu “plays” to make him smile again. His temper was actually becoming a thing of the past.

“Anyway, you’ve got to get yourself ready.” Elsie dropped her own purse on the counter next to mine and immediately started off in the direction of Sofia’s bedroom, where I heard her proclaim loudly, “Sofia, my dear, it’s a date for you and me! Shall we dine on fish and chips, lovey, or would you prefer a nice curry?”