"Can I open it? Can I? Please?"
"Go ahead," Vittoria says.
Lily throws open the door and freezes.
I peer around her small frame, and my breath catches.
The room has been transformed. Where there was a single four-poster bed, there's now a canopy draped with soft pink fabric that catches the light like cotton candy clouds. A small bookshelf sits in the corner, filled with picture books. A plush reading chair sized perfectly for a child. And on the bed?—
"Bunnies!" Lily screams.
She launches herself onto the mattress, grabbing armfuls of stuffed rabbits. There must be a dozen of them. Different sizes, different colors, different expressions. A whole army of fluff.
"This one matches Sir Floppington!" She holds up a gray rabbit with floppy ears. "And this one can be his queen!"
My vision blurs. I blink rapidly, trying to hold it together.
Vittoria squeezes my arm. "I'll let you have a moment," she whispers, then slips away.
I stand in the doorway, watching my daughter roll around on a bed that probably costs more than our entire apartment, surrounded by more toys than she's ever owned combined. She's laughing.
A presence materializes beside me. I don't need to look to know who it is.
"Is it too much?" Nico's voice is low. Uncertain in a way I've never heard from him.
I shake my head because words won't come.
He did this.
Not because he had to. Not because anyone asked.
Because he saw a little girl who had nothing and decided she should have something.
My fingers find his hand without conscious thought. I squeeze once. That's all I can manage.
His thumb brushes across my knuckles. Brief. Almost imperceptible.
But it says everything neither of us can speak out loud.
The warmth spreading through my chest turns cold.
Wait.
I watch Lily arrange her new stuffed rabbits into what she's calling a "royal court," complete with hierarchy and elaborate backstories she's inventing on the spot.
This isn't our room. This isn't our house. This isn't our life.
We're guests here. Temporary. Protected until the Bratva situation resolves and Jack's custody threat disappears. Then what? We go back to our cramped apartment with the broken elevator and the temperamental toaster, and Lily has to leave behind...
All of this.
The rabbits. The books. The reading chair that's sized perfectly for her small frame. The canopy that makes her feel like she's sleeping in a fairy tale.
I pull my hand away from Nico's.
"Lily, baby," I say, keeping my voice light. "Keep playing. Mommy needs to talk to Nico for a minute."
She doesn't even look up. "Okay. Sir Floppington is about to knight Princess Bun-Bun anyway."
