Mom laughed again. “Not yet, Marci. The party is later today. Right now, it’s only us. Come now, let’s look at your presents.”
After a brief moment of disappointment, I took Mom’s hand and followed her downstairs. I wore my favorite frilly, pink nightgown which made me feel like a princess. Dad waited in the foyer when we walked down the stairs and picked me up before I reached the last step and kissed my cheek. “Happy birthday, princess.” He lifted me up over his head and carried me into the living room. It was decorated with pink and blush colored balloons, a garland that said happy birthday, and a golden crown sat on the table beside a huge pink cake with a unicorn. On another table, a big pile of presents waited, all wrapped in pink and golden wrapping paper. I rushed toward it.
“Happy birthday!” Amo screamed as he raced around the table, trying to steal the show.
“They are from us, and your aunts and uncle,” Mom said, but I only half listened as I began unwrapping everything eagerly.
I got almost everything I asked for. Almost.
Dad stroked my head. “You’ll get more presents at the party today.”
I nodded and smiled. “I’ll be the princess.”
“You always are.”
Mom gave Dad a look I didn’t understand.
A few hours later, the house was filled with friends and family, and men who worked for Dad. Everyone had come to celebrate with me. I wore a princess dress and a crown, loving how everyone brought me presents and congratulated me and sang happy birthday for me. The present tower was three times my size. Late that night, when my eyes kept falling shut, Dad carried me up into my room.
“We need to put on your nightgown,” he murmured as he put me down on my bed.
I held on to his neck and shook my head vigorously. “No, I want to wear my princess dress. And my crown,” I added after a yawn.
Dad chuckled. “You can wear the gown but the crown is too uncomfortable.” He gently took it off and put it down on my nightstand.
“Am I still a princess without a crown?”
“You’ll always be my princess, Marci.”
I smiled. “Cuddle me to sleep?”
Dad nodded and awkwardly stretched out beside me, his legs dangling off the too-short bed. He wrapped an arm around me and I leaned my cheek against his chest, closing my eyes. My dad was the best dad in the world.
“I love you, Dad. I won’t ever leave you. I’ll live with you and Mom forever.”
Dad kissed my temple. “And I love you, princess.”
The soft swinging of the hammock lulled me into a half-slumber as I watched the frothy waves lap at our jetty and beach. The hammock in our mansion in the Hamptons was my favorite place on a sunny day, and there had been weeks of sunny, hot summer days since the beginning of June, but I hadn’t had much time for leisure.
I wiggled my toes, releasing a sigh. The last few days had been tiring and so a few days to relax were sorely needed. The organization of my nineteenth birthday party had meant weeks of intense preparation with cake and menu tasting, clothes shopping, guest list corrections, and many more tasks. Even an event planner had hardly reduced my workload. Everything needed to be perfect. My birthdays were always one of the most important social events of the year.
After the big party two days ago, Mom had taken me, and my younger brothers, Amo and Valerio, to the Hamptons for a week of much needed relaxation. Of course, Valerio didn’t understand the meaning of relaxation. He was out on the waves, water-skiing while one of our bodyguards steered the boat in risky maneuvers to satisfy him. I doubt I ever had as much energy as that kid, not even at eight.
Mom read a book on a lounge chair in the shade, her blonde hair framing her face in messy beach waves. My hair was always straight, even a day at the beach didn’t change that. Of course, my hair was coal-black and not angelic blonde like Mom’s.
Black as your soul, Amo tended to joke. My eyes cut to him. He had set up a CrossFit parkour in a less needed part of our property and was doing the Workout of the Day. It looked like self-inflicted torture judging from his expression. I preferred Aunt Gianna’s Pilates courses. Of course, Amo’s dedication let him look like Hulk at age fifteen.
The sliding door opened and our maid, Lora, stepped out with a tray. I swung my legs out of the hammock and smiled when I saw she had prepared our favorite strawberry fresca. That drink cooled me down even on the hottest summer days. She poured me a glass and handed it to me.