Page 51 of A Sixpence For Your Shoe

I wiggle away from him, still trying to make sure my hair looks good, but it’s one of those days when it has a mind of its own and won’t stay where I put it.

“How can you be so sure of that?” I moan. “They might think I’m too young or annoying or they might get the wrong idea about me—” I shrug. I don’t know exactly what is making me so nervous but all I know is that I want them to like me. I want Vincent to see that his family likes me and accepts me. It seems important.

Especially since I am madly in love with him, and I want to be a part of his life for a long, long time. His family accepting me is kind of vital to that dream working out.

I think the other side of it is that I’ve never sat at a table with a big family, and like I explained to Vincent, it’s something I’ve always wanted.

So, I don’t want to mess this up.

I want it to be just how I imagined.

“Stop that.” He brushes my hand away as I try for the third time to tie my hair up and it doesn’t work. “Give me the brush.” He says gently.

I sit down at the vanity and Vincent slowly brushes long strokes through my hair. “It’s going to be a good night, little pet. There is nothing you have to worry about. I promise you.” He starts at the top of my hair and gently braids it, neat and precise, as though he’s been doing it for years.

The fact that he can do this takes me by surprise.

“Where did you learn to do a French braid?” I ask, confused.

He chuckles. “Someone I knew long ago. She had hair like yours, soft and dark like midnight. She taught me.”

“A girlfriend?” I ask, a streak of jealousy in my words.

“It was long ago, Misha.” He muses. “Are you jealous?”

“No.” I answer too quickly, and he laughs again, leaning down to kiss the curve of my neck. “No one has ever had my attention in the way that you do, little pet.” He whispers against my ear, sending a thrill running down my spine. His words reassure me, and my worry goes back to the dinner looming ahead.

I glance at the beautiful watch Vincent gave me as a gift. “We only have an hour.” I say in horror.

“And? You’re almost ready.” He says.

“I don’t know what to wear.” I say in panic.

“I will decide. Now stop worrying and I’ll sort it all out for you, alright?” he kisses me again, then finishes braiding my hair.

I smile while Vincent loops the hair band around the end of my braided hair and then walks over to the closet. At least that is one less thing for me to think about.

By seven that evening the house is filled with warm conversation and laughter. He has three sons and one daughter and all of them are married. Dalia is telling me about herweekend trip to Las Vegas with Neve who is her best friend and also happens to be Celso’s wife. Dalia and I get on like a house on fire. She’s married to Nevio who I do my best not to stare at. The scar across his face isn’t even ugly. It’s kind of attractive, but I can see he doesn’t like it whenever he catches me looking.

Neve is a sweetheart, perhaps a little too innocent for me. Rufino is honestly a bit scary at first, just the sheer size of him makes me double take, but when he starts a conversation with me over a martini, I find him to be really sweet and a down-to-earth person. He’s married to Verity who I adore right away. She’s got a wild streak, I can see it in her eyes.

Tuomo and Masaccio have it in for each other and spend much of the evening throwing sneaky insults back and forth over the dinner table while their wives, Leora and Nerissa roll their eyes and shake their heads.

The longer I sit with all of them the more fun I have.

This chaotic, wild, noisy family makes room for me immediately and talks to me as though I belong with them. Even though I’m nervous as hell - each of them takes the time to say hi and get to know me a little bit during the night.

“How are you doing? Are you surviving my dad?” Celso asks, leaning against the doorframe in the kitchen while I pour myself a glass of water. “I don’t need tosurviveyour dad. He’s incredible.” I laugh.

Celso snorts. “I guess, he can be incredible for some and a demon for others.” I knit my brows, wondering what he means. Celso notices my expression and shrugs, laughing to dismiss his own comment. “He was strict. That’s all. And he’s the reason I never got to know my mother.” He says. “What do you mean? Why did the others know your mom and you didn’t?”

“I don’t have the same mother as they do. My father had an affair. He couldn’t keep her around and he forced her away. He—” Celso’s voice knots so tightly the words cut off in his throat.“Never mind. I just never got to meet my mom - and my dad was a strict asshole.” He chuckles, trying to brush away whatever he was going to say.

“My mom wasn’t strictenough.” I giggle, helping him change the subject because I can see he’s struggling emotionally after mentioning it. “I used to get into all kinds of trouble, and she would just sigh and roll her eyes at me. I never got punished. I guess life punished me in other ways.” I chew at my lip, wondering why I’m so relaxed around Celso. He instantly feels like family.

“I like you kid.” He laughs.

“Kid?” I snort. I’m not that young.

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