I swallow the strong tequila. “Not if I have something to say about it.” Just as I finish the sentence, Revio saunters toward us, shoving his hand into his pocket and using his other to remove his glasses. He gets close enough to the pool to not get his loafers wet, before he kneels down and scoops up a cup of water playfully.

“Rubs, we have an event tonight. Papa’s orders.” My mouth slams closed. My heart races but not in the way that I like it to. In a perfect world, I won’t have to hold hands with Revio. It’s not that he does anything in particular to annoy me, I just don’t like him.

“What time?”

He flicks the water in his hand onto me. “I’ll pick you up at eight. It’s a charity gala for the homeless in the city.”

I nod. “I’ll be waiting.” I watch as he goes back the same way he just came. I know better than to give him ammunition, and as usual, what Papa says goes.

“Hey, can I come?” Poppy asks, sliding out of the floaty tube and pushing herself back to the surface of the water.

“Sure, but we will need to go shopping again.”

Before Poppy can even interrupt and ask if she can get a job or work around the house, my mom walks down the outside stairs, carrying a bottle of water. I watch as her long silk gown trails with the wind. My mama is beautiful. Papa knew exactly what he was doing the day he laid eyes on her.

“Hey, girls, make sure you use SPF fifty.” She lowers herself down onto the cobble path, dipping her French manicured foot into the water. She inhales, leaning her face up to the sun. Mama has golden skin that darkens through the year and bright blue eyes. Her soft wavy brown hair is always glossy, and her face doesn’t have a single wrinkle. She’s only thirty-four but somehow still manages to look twenty-four.

“What’s the matter, baby?” she asks, and I realize she’s looking right at me, pushing the water around her feet while gawking between Poppy and me. “Rubs?”

I smile widely at her. “Nothing, Mama.” Nothing but the fact that you deserve the world, and I don’t mean the one we’re currently living in.

“Oh!” Ma says, pushing up from the ground until she’s standing straight. “Your cousins are coming in from Sicily.”

Oh no.

“They’re already here but won’t get to the house until we’re home from the event tonight. Make sure they don’t trash the house, will you?” She starts rambling off in Arabic as she waltzes back into the house.

“Your cousins?” Poppy asks, and I slip from the blow-up bed and sink into the water.

“You don’t even want to know.”

“Oh… but I do!”