Page 72 of Lupo

"Five more minutes."

I smile, running my fingers through her hair. "Five more minutes."

We lie there in comfortable silence. Through the walls, I can hear Elena starting to wake up. The soft sounds of her moving around in her room, talking to her stuffed rabbit.

"She'll be in here soon," Isabella warns. "Demanding breakfast."

"Probably."

Isabella lifts her head, looking at me with sleepy eyes. "You don't have to do this, you know. The whole domestic thing. You could—"

I kiss her, cutting off whatever she was about to say. When I pull back, she's smiling.

"Okay, okay. I get it."

"Good." I kiss her again, softer this time. "Because I'm not going anywhere."

Right on cue, Elena's door opens. Small footsteps pad down the hallway, then our door creaks open.

"Mama? Lupo?" Her voice is uncertain, like she's still getting used to finding us together.

"Come here, sweetheart," I say, and she doesn't hesitate.

She climbs onto the bed, wriggling between us with her rabbit. "I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry," Isabella laughs.

"Can Lupo make eggs?"

"I thought you wanted to sleep more," I tease Isabella.

She swats my chest. "Fine. Go make eggs. Abandon me."

"Such suffering." I kiss her forehead, then Elena's, and climb out of bed.

By the time I've pulled on my work clothes, both of them are in the kitchen. Elena is already at the table, swinging her legs and chattering about a dream she had. Isabella is making coffee, her hair still messy from sleep, wearing one of my shirts.

My shirt.

When did that happen? When did she start stealing my clothes?

And why does it make my chest feel tight?

I make eggs and toast while they sit at the table. Elena tells me about the dream—something about flying rabbits and a castle made of candy—and I listen like it's the most important thing I've ever heard.

Because to her, it is.

"And then the dragon said I could stay forever," she finishes. "Because I was brave."

"You are brave," I tell her, sliding a plate in front of her. "The bravest girl I know."

She beams at me, and I smile back at her.

This is what I want. What I need.

Not the violence. Not the fragments of memories that still surface sometimes, showing me the terrible things I've done.

Just this. Breakfast with a little girl who looks at me like I hung the moon. Coffee with a woman who chooses me every single day despite not knowing who I really am.