"Good. Keep going."
So I do.
I tell her about the princess who refused to wait for rescue. Who learned to fight dragons herself. Who discovered that the monster everyone feared was actually just lonely and misunderstood.
Lily listens with rapt attention, occasionally interrupting to ask questions or offer suggestions. The dragon should be purple, she decides. And the princess should have a pet wolf.
I incorporate every suggestion.
By the time I finish the story, Lily's eyes are drooping. She fights sleep the way all children do, insisting she's not tired even as her words start to slur together.
"That was a good story," she mumbles.
"I'm glad you liked it."
"Bruno?"
"Yes?"
"I'm glad your legs don't work."
I go still. "Why?"
"Because then you have to sit down. And when you sit down, I can sit with you." She yawns. "Standing people are too tall. I can't reach them."
Something burns behind my eyes.
I pull her closer and rest my chin on top of her head.
"Go to sleep, piccola."
She does.
Antonella
I stare at my phone for ten minutes before I finally pick it up.
Gianna's contact photo looks back at me. It's from last summer, before everything fell apart. She's laughing at something, her hair blowing across her face. She looks happy. Carefree.
I haven't called her again.
Not because I don't miss her. I miss her so much. But every time I think about calling, I imagine her voice asking how I am. Asking if I'm okay. Asking about Bruno and the marriage and this new life I've been forced into.
And I know I won't be able to lie to her.
Gianna has always been able to read me. Even when we were kids, she could tell when something was wrong just by looking at my face. She'd crawl into my bed at night and demand I tell her what was bothering me.
If I call her now, she'll hear it in my voice. The exhaustion. The confusion. The way I'm barely holding myself together.
She'll worry. She'll want to help. And there's nothing she can do from Chicago except feel helpless and scared for me.
I don't want that for her.
But I also can't keep avoiding her forever.
I press the call button before I can talk myself out of it.
The phone rings once. Twice.
