Proof that we exist.
That we’re real.
That this family we built from broken pieces actually works.
Ethan appears during cake service. “Hey stranger.” He bumps Marco’s shoulder. “Don’t make me regret giving you my blessing.”
Marco smiles. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Open mat this Monday?” Ethan asks.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Marco replies.
Their friendship is slowly clicking back into place. It’s not perfect... they’re still healing. But it’s getting there. Ethan giving Marco his blessing to marry me certainly helped.
Later that nightwe’re back home on the rooftop. The party is over. Ben is still buzzing with birthday energy and sugar.
Isotta’s lemon tree sits in the corner. It’s growing tall and strong, with heavy fruit bending the branches.
“I want to pick one,” Ben announces. She points to the biggest lemon. “The bravest one.”
Marco’s hand hovers on the pruning shears. His fingers tense.
Isotta’s tree.
I cover his hand with mine.
Together we guide the blades.
Snip.
The lemon falls into Ben’s waiting hands.
“Brave Lemonade!” she declares. Like this was the plan all along. Like six-year-olds just casually turn family trauma trees into beverage service.
The next day, we set up a tiny stand with construction paper signs and wobbly markerlettering. A pitcher. Cups. A donation bowl for the Parent Lounge.
After we squeeze the main lemon, Ben slips a seed into her pocket. “For Nonna’s garden. We’ll make more trees.”
When the lemonade is ready, Ben suddenly asks where I put the family photo we took at her party. Elena had just dropped it off that morning, along with a frame, and Marco and I had already chosen the spot.
We lead her to the stair landing, where the frame is positioned at child-eye height so Ben can see it every day. Right next to where we moved Isotta’s hard hat.
All three of us pause there. Reach out and tap the frame.
One.
Two.
Three.
Brave.
Then we head outside carrying the pitcher.
Marco pours. He’s not wearing a mask, and stands there fully exposed in broad daylight.
The irony of Marco Fiore, multi-billion-dollar restaurateur, helping host a kids’ lemonade stand isn’t lost on me.
