But then I remembered: once the kite string snaps, it can never be fixed.
As expected, Dante gave me a troubled smile, trying to reassure me. "Sweetheart, this can't wait. There's a sit-down I need to be at. You know how it is."
"I'll call your mother. Rosa can come over and stay with you, okay?"
A wave of nausea washed over me, goosebumps prickling my skin. He invoked my mother's name so easily. As if she were a consolation prize. As if her presence could fill the space he kept hollowing out. Still, I managed to force out the words, "Drive safely."
I lay there in silence, watching him get dressed. He pulled on a dark jacket, checked his reflection once, ran his thumb along his jaw again. Then he left. The front door closed. The engine turned over. The crunch of tires on the driveway, and then nothing.
Slowly, I got up, holding my belly, and made my way downstairs. I called for a car. Not one of the Family's drivers. A taxi. An ordinary taxi, because what I was about to do required no witnesses who reported back to the Moretti household.
"Maplewood Estates," I told the driver.