Page 16

“Are you coming to my soccer game on Saturday?” Luca asked hopefully.
“I’ll try, sweetheart. Depends on work.”
The same excuse she’d used for the past three games. I bit back the comment that wanted to escape and focused on keeping my expression neutral.
After she left, Gianna sagged against me like a marionette with cut strings. “That was intense.”
“She was testing us,” I said quietly. “Looking for evidence that something’s not right.”
“Did we convince her?”
I thought about the way Lyla had watched us, the careful questions she’d asked, the tightness around her eyes when Luca had called Gianna “Mom.” “I’m not sure. But we didn’t give her anything obvious to work with.”
The rest of the evening passed without incident. We admired more artwork, chatted with Luca’s teacher about his progress, and made plans for upcoming school events. By the time we got back to the truck, I was exhausted from maintaining the performance.
“Ice cream?” I suggested as we buckled our seatbelts. “To celebrate surviving our first public outing?” I mumbled the last part for only Gianna to hear.
“Yes!” Luca cheered from the backseat.
Gianna smiled. A real smile this time. “Ice cream sounds perfect.”
The local ice cream shop was busy despite the cool weather, filled with families who’d had the same idea after the school event. We found a booth in the corner and ordered our usual flavors: chocolate chip for Luca, mint chocolate chip for Gianna, and plain vanilla for me.
“Dad’s boring,” Luca informed Gianna solemnly. “He always gets vanilla.”
“Hey now,” I protested. “Vanilla is a classic. It goes with everything.”
“It’s safe,” Gianna teased, licking her spoon. “Predictable.”
“I’m not predictable.”
“You had cornflakes for breakfast this morning. Same as every morning for the past week.”
Luca giggled. “And you always put two sugars in your coffee.”
“And you read the sports section of the newspaper first, every single time,” Gianna added.
“Okay, okay. Maybe I’m a little predictable.” I couldn’t help but smile at their teasing. This felt normal, natural. Like a real family enjoying a simple evening out.
“I like that you’re the same every day,” Luca said seriously, swinging his legs from the booth. “It makes me feel safe.”
The innocent comment hit me harder than I expected. This little boy, who’d already experienced too much change in his short life, found comfort in my routines. In knowing what to expect from the adults around him.
“Dad?” Luca’s voice pulled me from my brooding. “Can we go to the park tomorrow? Mom said she’d teach me how to tell different flowers apart.”
“If the weather’s nice,” I agreed.
“And Mom are you coming to my soccer game on Saturday?”
“Of course I’ll be there,” Gianna said before I could respond. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Good. You make the best noise with that horn thing.”
“It’s called an air horn, and yes, I do make excellent noise with it.”
The ride home was quiet, Luca drowsy in his booster seat and Gianna staring out the passenger window at the darkened streets. I wondered what she was thinking, whether the evening had been as emotionally draining for her as it had been for me.
Back at the house, we went through our established routine. Gianna helped Luca with his bath while I cleaned up the kitchen, then I read him a bedtime story while she finished some paperwork for the flower shop. Normal domestic activities that felt both comfortable and dangerous.