After I’d showered, I got dressed in a fitted blouse and a skater-style flippy skirt with polka dots which came down to mid-thigh length. When Lorenzo saw my outfit, I felt his eyes trail appreciatively over my bare legs, making a shiver ghost along my spine.
I saw to getting Clemente dressed, while Lorenzo tried to coax a reluctant Clara to get dressed.
“Damnit,” said Lorenzo to me. “I put Clara’s dress on to wash last night but forgot to set it to dry as well.” He looked down at his daughter. “Clara, sorry, but your blue dress isn’t dry. You’ll have to wear something else.”
“Wear blue dress,” she pleaded.
“No, you can’t. You can’t wear wet clothes.”
Big tears started to silently fall down her pale cheeks.
Lorenzo ran his hands through his neatly brushed hair. “Look, why don’t you wear your pajamas for now, and then Anni can get your dress dry in a while?”
Clara looked uncertain about his suggestion but took Lorenzo’s hand so that he could take her down for breakfast. I followed with Clemente who babbled away, seemingly oblivious to his sister’s upset.
As we went down the staircase, I couldn’t help my eyes wandering from Lorenzo’s almost-black hair downward to his dark suit, his clothes perfectly tailored around the defined muscles of his toned body. I looked away, though, before he caught me staring.
Last night Lorenzo had promised to eat breakfast with the children this morning. However, as we reached the bottom of the staircase, his cell rang and he excused himself to take the call.
I took the children into the dining room for breakfast, and as I helped them up onto the antique chairs, Clara looked at me and whispered, “Wilbur?”
“Wilbur has to have his breakfast in the kitchen. He’s a cat and your daddy wouldn’t like him eating in here.” Lorenzo would probably have a fit if he saw Wilbur’s food bowl on the pristine, polished wood floors of his formal dining room.
Adelina brought in toast and a dish of scrambled eggs. I poured cereal for the children and plated up some toast and eggs for each of them.
Clemente began eating straightaway, but Clara didn’t eat and kept looking at the door as if wondering whether her father was going to come back.
I tried to swallow down my frustration with Lorenzo. Surely the call could have waited half an hour if his presence meant that Clara ate something. An idea came to me. “Let’s go to the kitchen and get the cat.”
“Wilbur?” said Clara hopefully.
“Yes, sweetie. Wilbur.”
And, at my words, she gave me a beautiful smile.
While Clemente remained in the dining room, Clara and I went to the kitchen. I scooped Wilbur into my arms. “Good morning, handsome,” I said to him. He purred in happiness as I stroked his ears. “Clara, why don’t you bring his food bowl to the dining room?”
“He hasn’t had his breakfast yet, Mrs. Anni.”
“Don’t worry, he can eat with us in the dining room.”
Adelina almost dropped the plate she was holding. “But what about Mr. Lorenzo? Surely he will not eat in the same room as the cat?” She had obviously sensed his intense dislike for the animal.
“If he ever gets off his phone and decides to eat with the children, then they’ll be in the dining room with me and Wilbur.”
Back in the dining room, I settled Wilbur in the corner with his bowl while Clara sat back in her seat. “How about we give him some scrambled eggs?”
Clara gave a small frown “Eggs?”
“Yes, he likes eggs.” I spooned some into his bowl and immediately he started eating.
Clara giggled when he paused to lick around his mouth and whiskers. “Wilbur likes,” she laughed.
“Yes, he does like it.”
Clara carried on watching him while she stirred her spoon around her cereal bowl and avoided eating any of the actual cereal.
After a couple of minutes, she pulled the plate with toast and eggs toward her. “Kittens,” she said, pointing to the pictures on her new plate.