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call me again and meet god
Petsa ng paglalathala:
2026-08-06 23:49:31
Pinakabagong kabanata
Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi pistachio survived the crash
“Your kids were outside for eleven minutes.”I narrowed my eyes. “You counted?”“Yes.”“Of course. Very normal.”“I was sitting here.” He gestured toward the chair and table area. “The glass door stayed in sight. They didn’t go near the water. My security is outside the fence, not inside the property. No one entered the house. No photos. No violations of your clauses.”I froze for half a second.He had already prepared a legal defense. This man was genuinely a disease in cufflinks.“And the gelato?” I asked.“Not a contract violation.”“That depends on the amount of sugar.”“Mami.” Gabby immediately pulled her cup closer to her chest.“Don’t Mami me with your hands full of strawberry crime.”“It’s raspberry.”“Pink is a general hazard.”Al held his tiny spoon out toward Rafael. “Mine is chocolate. It’s strong.”“Very strong,” Rafael answered with full gravitas, as if Al had just explained an acquisition strategy.“Whale shark got vanilla,” Al added.I looked at the tiny empty cup in f
Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi amnesia, audacity, and gelato
Apparently, I had a shift too.Not a work shift. Not a mom shift. Not a shift as a woman trying not to think about her amnesiac husband picking her up for an Italian family dinner with the potential for emotional torture and pasta.A sleep shift.It happened a little after three, when the twins were building a Lego city in the family room and I, with absolutely no sense of responsibility, lay down on my side on the rug because the couch was spiritually too far away.At first, I only meant to “supervise.”Five minutes later, Al parked his chubby body across my waist like I was his personal rest stop. One knee pressed into the side of my stomach, the whale shark tucked under my arm, while he worked on attaching a blue Lego piece and explained that the building was an “airport for sharks but no taxes.”Gabby sat a few feet away from us in front of the small table with a kids’ makeup set I had bought because one night I had been too weak, too online, and far too trusting of the words non-
Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi one tío, two toys, several lies
“Mami...”I immediately turned.Javier heard it too, and his face lit up. “Is that my princess?”“No.” I stood, taking the phone with me. “That’s the IRS.”“MAMIIII.” Louder.“G is on my leg.” Then Al’s voice, rough with sleep.And just like that, peace was over.I walked toward the family room.“Put me on. I want to see them.” Javier laughed through the speaker.“No. You’re buying a secret.”“The truck?”“Exactly.”Gabby was already sitting on the rug when I walked in, her hair stuck to one cheek, her crown still on the floor, and her face carrying profound offense because Al’s leg was, in fact, still lying across her thigh.Al wasn’t fully awake yet. He lay there with his eyes half closed, hugging the whale shark, showing absolutely no intention of moving his leg, and Kendra was still asleep.“Mami,” Gabby said hoarsely. “He is crushing my beautiful leg.”Al opened one eye. “Your leg is fine.”“GET OFF!”She kicked him.Al woke up completely. “MAMIII!”I closed my eyes.On the phone
Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi when nobody screams, worry
I stared at the invitation for a few seconds.Then closed the calendar.By two oh-six, I was already in the car on my way home.Apparently, my dramatic speech this morning about having meetings until six had been a little too optimistic about my own work ethic.The vendor review ended before lunch. Marie emailed the contract revisions and, after reading the first page, I decided the woman was paid enough not to require my physical presence. Dianna could handle the approval deck, Jemima had already taken command of the war against the Paris florist, and there was no logical reason for me to sit in the office for another four hours just to prove I owned a chair.I owned a company so I could go home when I felt lazy.It wasn’t laziness. It was owner privilege.I texted Dianna from the elevator.[Going home. If something burns, call the fire department before me.]Her reply came before the elevator doors opened.[What about your meetings until six?]I stared at the screen.Traitor.[Confi
Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi call me again and lose a limb
I only realized what I’d said after the sentence was already out.My fingers went still against the edge of the desk.Rafael didn’t know.His family didn’t know.And not one of them would ask about children tonight. They thought the last five years of my life had consisted of my company, other people’s weddings, and possibly a string of handsome men who never lasted long enough to make it into a magazine.“No one is going to ask you that.” Rafael’s voice came back quieter.I rubbed my thumb along the corner of the calendar. “You can’t guarantee an Italian family won’t discuss a woman’s uterus. It’s one of your oldest industries.”“I can guarantee they won’t do it to you.”He didn’t even know why the subject might be dangerous, but he had already placed himself between me and the question.I hated when his instincts started resembling the man I used to know. It made hatred inefficient.“I have meetings until six,” I said.“I’ll send a car at seven.”“No.”“Arabella.”“I have my own car
Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi call me again and meet god
At nine forty-three, my phone vibrated again on top of my desk.It moved half an inch between a vendor binder and two linen swatches, then stopped with the screen facing up.Rafael Ricciardi.I kept staring at the lighting proposal on my laptop, drawing a red line through a number far too offensive for two hundred candles and six chandeliers that didn’t even have permission to be hung yet.Outside my office, GALA was already operating at full volume. The printer at the end of the hall was spitting out paper like it was suffering from administrative food poisoning. Jemima was on the phone with someone who kept referring to a temporary structure as a “large gazebo,” a crime against language I believed deserved to be handled by an international court. A junior planner passed behind the glass wall carrying three sample vases the height of a healthy child.My phone stopped.Then started again.I moved one linen swatch aside without looking at it.The sixth call since breakfast.Or the seve
Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi Glass Mansion, Soft Monsters
Five Years Later.“AL, STOP PULLING MY HAIR, I’M A PRINCESS!”“UGLY PRINCESS!”Something small, warm, and heavy slammed into my waist. Then something else landed on my stomach. I didn’t wake up because of an alarm, but because two tiny bodies decided I was their personal playground.“Oh God,” I ras
Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi Sunlight and Divorce Papers
I woke up because the sun slapped me in the face. White-gold light speared through the thin curtains, landing directly on my eyelids that had never volunteered to become solar panels. I blinked slowly, trying to gather the pieces of my soul scattered across the sheets.The clock on the nightstand r
Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi Platinum Barbie
Seven p.m., and Lake Como looked like an expensive postcard that had been photographed to death. Deep blue, almost black. Villa lights scattered messily across the water. A thin veil of fog hovering low, like a cheap Instagram filter no one bothered to turn off.From the study window facing the lak
Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi He Never Chose Me
“Wow,” I said at last, closing the door behind me with a soft click. “I thought you were still busy having a reunion with your ex.”His gaze dropped for a second, traveling down my body. From the thin heels, to my bare legs, to where the dress cinched at my waist, to the neckline that was bold enou
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