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"Is that such a bad thing?"

They're discussing more than painting. Mother's subtly encouraging Sienna to embrace the present... as if the moment won't inevitably shatter around us.

"Sooner or later, it has to end," Sienna says.

"You're young, dear. You needn't concern yourself with that."

"I'm not concerned about anything beyond my work," Sienna replies.

Mom gestures toward me. I'm leaning against the counter as though overseeing a board meeting. "Take my son. He presents as a stern businessman, yet you've captured the playfulness within him. A different dimension... without the severity."

"It began as stern," Sienna admits, studying me. "Because that's your default expression, sorry to tell you. But then you smirked and... well..." She shrugs. "I thought it suited you better. So I reworked it."

"You portrayed me as someone who knows how to have fun."

She flashes me a grin. She's an enigma I desperately want to solve. One moment melancholic, the next radiant. She allows all facets of her painting to flow through her. I remain perpetually the Don. Regardless of location or circumstance. Except with her.

"So, you don't, then?" she challenges. "Know how to have fun?"

"I'll have you know I am the champion of Greens and Gravy."

She laughs. "Greens andGravy? I’ve never heard of it."

"You are missing out," I tell her. "They boast the finest mini golf this side of Fort Worth, and the most exquisite gravy nationwide."

"The gravy is absolutely divine," Mother confirms.

"Youhold the record?" Sienna asks, her smile lingering.

"He's not exaggerating," Mother says. "We used to take the boys there regularly. Nico’s maintained the record for..."

I puff my chest proudly, eliciting another laugh from Sienna. "Twenty-eight years."

"What?"

"He achieved four holes-in-one."

"This sounds like the origin story of some megalomaniacal dictator. Next, you'll claim you can walk on water."

"That was going to be my next trick."

Another laugh. "Yet you haven't surpassed your own record. How disappointing."

"I remain in contention, Sienna."

"Perhaps I'll challenge you someday."

"What about right now?" I propose stepping forward. "If you think you possess the skill."

Sienna chews on the inside of her cheek contemplatively. She glances at Mother. "I suppose he could drive me home instead?"

My mother appears caught off-guard... but unmistakably delighted. She looks proud too, as if attributing this development to her discourse on aspects.

Sienna turns to me. "Alright, I suppose I can unwind... forone night."

One night.

She emphasizes those words deliberately. She wants me to understand this can never evolve into something permanent. It's merely amusement. We'll ignore all other aspects, the background hues in our painting.