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“It’s not really about the lyrics,” she says just loud enough to be heard over the music. “It just sounds sad.”

She shrugs and I crouch in front of her again, reaching out a hand to ruffle her damp, chlorine-dreadlocked hair. “It’s alright to be sad sometimes though, right? And you have Massi to cheer you up!”

She nods and gives me a small smile that breaks my heart a little.

“Right. After this song, you two need to shower and get into PJs. I’m gonna make us some grub.”

I hurry over to the kitchen not wanting to make the kid any more messed up by inserting my own emotions into the situation, but fuck, sometimes I want to slap her bloody parents. She needs some love and attention from her family, badly.

Maybe the song thing was dumb. I’m none the wiser about what has made her upset and now she has one of the world’s most depressing songs to accompany her as she plunges into even deeper despair.

Massimo has an arm around her shoulders now and he is forcing her to sway along to the melody. I’m too far away to hear what they are whispering about, but when I pick up a distinctly high-pitched giggle I exhale in relief.

She’s okay. She’ll be okay. It’s probably just prepubescent angst.

Prepubescent angst that I shouldn’t be dealing with. I’m young only 26 for fucksake and they aren’t my kids.

Not my circus, not my monkeys.

But I know that is a lie. I’ll never leave them to fend for themselves like we older kids had to do. I care about the moody little fuckers too much.

Sometimes I wonder if those weeks I spent in hiding with them, and Matteo and Elio, over a decade ago caused me to kind of imprint on them. I was all they had and my only focus was keeping them all alive until we could go back home.

Whatever it is, I’m locked in for life. I’d die for any of my siblings and little Francesca.

“If your mum asks, I gave you some veggies, okay?” I point at Massimo and refuse to give him his homemade pizza until he promises.

They are finally showered and in their jammies. It’s a goddamn miracle.

Placing an identical pizza down in front of a much calmer Francesca, I give her a wink. “And for you, little darlin’”

Her eyes follow me as I move around the kitchen. She has to be the nosiest little kid I’ve ever met. Always curious and watching and asking questions. She’s sweet though. The pair of them are cute.

“Have your friends gone home?” Right on cue, Francesca starts her questioning.

“Yes. Now eat up. Look how skinny you are.” I see a flash of embarrassment on her face and I feel bad. I don’t want to give the kid a complex. We don’t need more tears tonight.

“They aren’t herfriends, Cheska. Didn’t you see them kissing?” Massimo joins in with his two cents and this conversation is one that I want to wrap up as soon as possible.

“Yes, I saw!” Francesca hisses at him. I probably shouldn’t have allowed things to happen as they did in front of the kids. We got a bit carried away, but it was only kissing and these two are heading into puberty not preschool.

I determinedly ignore them as they discuss my love life and whether or not the two women by the pool are both my girlfriends. They aren’t. Neither of them is my girlfriend. We just have fun together sometimes.

Shovelling my dinner of chicken breast and green veggies in my mouth, I mentally plan my workout for after I have settled the kids in front of the TV. In a life where I often don’t have control, I relish the power I feel through my routines, training, and developing my physique. Everything comes down to discipline and measured actions. I like that.

And women like my muscles. So there’s that.

“Do you ever kiss boys?” Francesca’s question cuts through my workout planning and I nearly snort broccoli out through my nose.

“Nope. Never.” Fuck that. Technically some kid kissed me at kindergarten, but I decked him and had to sit in time-out for the rest of the afternoon.

She nods slowly, clearly processing the information. “How do you know if you want to kiss boys or girls?”

Jesus Christ. I basically raise these kids for their arsehole parents, but I am not equipped for these questions. “Um. You kinda just know. If you feel like kissing someone… then you know.”

“I only want to kiss boys.” Massimo just comes right out of the closet and he doesn’t even realise it. It’s not like we hadn’t all figured it out years ago though. Despite his Catholicism, Dad made peace with the fact that half his kids are gay a long time ago.

Francesca is also unsurprised by Massi’s lacklustre announcement, but then there is nothing these two don’t know about each other.