"You believe him?"
"I want to. For Lucia's sake. I want her to grow up knowing redemption is possible."
"That's very... evolved of you, boss."
"Don't tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain."
Giulio smiled. "Your secret's safe with me."
That afternoon, Piero arrived at the penthouse with a truck full of furniture.
"Surprise," he said, grinning. "I bought out half of Pottery Barn."
"You what?"
"The changing table. The dresser. The rocking chair. All of it — I see you already started with the crib, so I brought everything else." He gestured to the truck. "Let's build."
Paola appeared, eyes wide. "Piero. This is too much."
"Nothing's too much for my niece. Besides, I'm the fun uncle. I'm supposed to spoil her."
"She's not even born yet!"
"Practice."
We spent the next four hours assembling furniture in what would be Lucia's nursery, yellow walls glowing in afternoon sun. Instructions spread across the floor. Tools scattered everywhere.
"This piece doesn't fit," Piero said, frowning at the crib frame.
"That's because you're holding it upside down."
"I'm not—" He turned it over. "Oh."
Paola watched from the rocking chair—already assembled, the only thing we'd managed not to mess up. "You two are disasters."
"We're learning," I defended.
"You've been working on that crib for an hour. It should take twenty minutes."
"The instructions are in Swedish."
"They're in English with picture diagrams."
"Same thing."
She laughed, shook her head. "I'm going to make dinner. Try not to break anything."
After she left, Piero and I worked in comfortable silence for a while. The crib slowly taking shape.
"I heard you visited Matteo," he said eventually.
"I did."
"How is he?"
"Remorseful. Working on himself. He asked about you."
Piero's hands stilled. "What did he say?"
