He nodded seriously. “Okay. Deal. That makes sense.”
She continued, lifting a finger for emphasis. “Number two—you can’t feed the mean ones.”
Marco glanced at the pond, genuinely curious. “Which ones are mean?”
Lucia pointed immediately, accusingly, at the aggressive mallard who’d been my ungrateful customer last time. “That one. He’s greedy.”
Marco studied the duck and then turned back to Lucia with a nod. “Understood.”
She handed him a slice of bread. “You have to feed the nice ones first, otherwise the mean ones take all the food. And that’s not fair.”
I could tell by the faint smirk at the corner of his lips that he was biting down a smile. “Got it,” Marco said quietly, breaking the bread apart in his hands, looking somehow both completely ridiculous and oddly endearing as he carefully followed her instructions.
Lucia threw her own piece gently into the water, narrating her every move. The ducks quickly surrounded her, scooping up crumbs, quacking and squabbling quietly among themselves. It was peaceful.
Well, as peaceful as ducks and a talkative six-year-old could be.
When Marco finally ran out of bread, he stepped back beside me. His arm brushed against mine just slightly, sending a tiny, unexpected jolt through me. He leaned a little closer as he watched Lucia with a faint smile as she continued explaining the finer points of duck fairness.
“She talks a lot.”
I smirked, tilting my head to look up at him. “Runs in the family.”
Marco hummed, probably debating whether Lucia’s talkativeness was a good thing or something he’d have to brace himself for later. It was entertaining, watching him quietly weigh the pros and cons of being around anyone who talked as much as I did.
I relaxed my shoulders. “So I saw you got flowers.”
He looked down at me, his brows pinched together. “I got flowers, yes.”
“What was the occasion? Who are they for?”
He smiled. “They’re for you.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. “Oh.”
Lucia twirled back toward us, blissfully unaware of the conversation happening above her head. “Tía, I ran out!”
I held out the bag. “Here—take the rest.”
She snatched it eagerly and skipped back to the pond, making ducks scatter as she went.
Marco tilted his head slightly, still watching her carefully. “You watch her a lot?”
“Sometimes.” I shrugged, feeling a weird twist in my chest. “Not enough, apparently.”
He seemed confused by my meaning, but he didn’t prod. Marco never prodded the way I would. He always waited, patient as hell, for me to spill things on my own. Which, honestly, just made me more likely to keep my mouth shut.
Probably why he did it.
I sighed, watching Lucia plop down onto the grass, completely oblivious to how much dirt she was grinding into her jeans. Isabel was going to kill me for that later, but that was a problem for future Valentina.
“She’s obsessed with ducks,” I said lightly.
Marco nodded slightly, almost smiling. “There are worse things to be obsessed with.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, turning to look at him with a smirk. “Like money laundering and extortion.”
And alcohol.
