Page 32 of His Playground

“I don’t want you to think I married you because I wanted a live-in babysitter. That’s why I didn’t leave Jazzy with you. It’s why I don’t want you doing stuff for her,” I admit. There’s alsothe part of me that needs to prove to myself and everyone else that I’ve got this. That I am enough for her.

“She’s lucky to have you for a father. If I had a father like you, I wouldn’t be in the predicament I’m in now.”

“What predicament is that, Antonia?” I press.

“The one where I’m stuck married to someone I don’t love.” She stands and walks towards the door.

Well, fuck me, if that didn’t hurt.

“You always were a shitty liar.”

Her hand pauses on the knob before she opens the door and walks out.

An hour later, I hear the elevator doors ding and little footsteps running through the foyer. “Carlo, are you home?” Jazzy’s voice calls out.

“I’m here,” I call back as I head towards the living area. I didn’t have any luck finding her mother. Whoever this Penelope is, she’s a fucking ghost.

“Lailani is coming to dinner at Uncle Louie’s, and Tío E said he’s got a surprise for me,” Jazzy announces.

“Really, a surprise, huh?” I ask Jazzy while looking up at Sammie, who just lifts a shoulder.

“Jazz, remember, even if you can’t say it, we both know I’m the best uncle, right?” he reminds her.

I never would have thought I’d see the day my three best friends were fighting for the top uncle spot. But here we are.

“I don’t know, Uncle Sammie. We’ll have to wait and see what Tío E’s surprise is first,” Jazzy says and then she’s sprinting down the hall. “I’m going to my room!”

“What’s the surprise and is it age appropriate?” I ask Sammie.

“I got no idea what he’s up to. But knowing that fucker, it’s over the top, not even remotely age appropriate, and probablynot something a kid wants anyway,” he says. “I’m not worried in the slightest.”

“Right. So, Lailani, huh? Coming to dinner. That’s a big step. You sure you’re ready for that level of commitment?” I nudge him.

“Fuck off. Your daughter invited her. What was I supposed to do? Say she can’t come?” he grunts.

“Yeah. Why not?”

The sound of heels clinking down the hallway has us both turning our heads. Antonia is dressed in a tight-as-fuck red skirt, a see-through red top with a red lace bra underneath it, and black leather boots that end at her ankles. Her lips are bright red and her hair hangs in loose waves over her shoulder.

“Oh, hey, I’m heading out. Catch you later,” she says, trying to walk around me.

My arm snakes over, taking hold of her waist. “Wait up a second. Where the fuck are you going dressed like that?”

“Like what?” She pushes off me.

“Like you’re going to try to make twenty dollars on the street corner,” I tell her.

“You did not just call me a whore, Carlo!” she gasps.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Right, well, I see you’ve got everything under control here. I’ll see you at dinner. Good luck, Antonia.” Sammie walks back to the elevator and stabs a finger on the button.

“I don’t know who the hell you think you are, Carlo, but you don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do,” Antonia hisses at me.

“Actually I do. I’m your husband, remember?” I remind her.

“How could I forget? That doesn’t mean you’re my keeper. Move,” she says.