Page 38 of His Playground

“I did. I still have a horse. His name is Tyson,” Antonia says, and Jazzy’s eyes widen.

“Can I meet him?”

“Of course you can.”

“Since when did we become horse people?” Sammie groans.

“Horses are the bestest pets,” Jazzy informs him.

“Wouldn’t you rather have a puppy?” he asks her.

“Don’t…” I warn him. They all know I can’t say no to my daughter. If she wants a fucking puppy, we’re getting one. And before I know it, we’ll be living on a damn farm.

“That was exhausting,” I tell Antonia as we walk back into our own apartment.

“It was fun,” she says.

“Mhmm.” I’m sure it was fun. I have no doubt she liked watching me try to block all the shit those assholes were trying to gift my daughter. “Jazzy, why don’t you go get ready for bed? I’ll be in to tuck you in shortly.”

“Can Antonia read me my story tonight?” she asks.

My eyes bug out of my head.Is my daughter replacing me already? What the fuck?

I look to Antonia. I like reading to Jazzy. “That’s up to her,” I say. Instead of: Fuck no! That’s my job.

“Sure, I’m just going to go take off my shoes and change. I’ll meet you in your room,” Antonia says.

I follow my wife into our bedroom, the same bedroom I haven’t slept in since my daughter showed up a few weeks ago. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I know.” Antonia doesn’t try to cover herself as she slips out of her dress and pulls out a pair of pajamas.

“What are your plans tomorrow?” I ask her.

“I have school,” she says, walking into the bathroom. I watch as she washes the makeup from her face.

“Can you skip?”

“Why?”

“We need to go house shopping.”

“For whom?” She stares at me through the reflection in the mirror.

“Us. Jazzy needs a house. She can’t be raised in a casino,” I explain. “We need a home.”

“Oh.” She goes back to cleaning her face.

“That whole thought you have of getting your own place. That’s never going to happen,” I remind her. “I don’t care what house you want me to buy, but we will be living in it together.”

Antonia spins around. “First of all, I don’t need you to buy me anything. I have money. Second… Actually, that’s all.”

“First, you’re my wife, Mrs. Bianchi. I will be buying our home. And second,you’re my wife. My money is your money,” I counter.

“I don’t want your money, Carlo.”

“Too bad.” I walk out of the bathroom and into the closet to get changed myself.

By the time I’m done, I find Antonia sitting on Jazzy’s bed already reading a book.