Without speaking, I begin her makeup, covering the traces my father left on her face. When I reach her lips, she winces slightly, but I remain gentle.
“Some days are harder than others. Forgive me for that,” she whispers.
“Why are you apologizing to me?”
“Today is your engagement, your special day. I should be the one taking care of you.”
“Graziela, you’re my stepmother, but we both know you could easily be my sister. Three years between us does not obligate you to care for me. We’ve talked about this already. We can take care of each other instead—like friends.”
“All right. But even so, today is still yours,” she insists.
“That depends. Today belongs to the Cosa Nostra because a future family begins to take shape. In that sense, the day belongs as much to you as it does to me.” I pi
