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“Exactly.”

Luca finally looks up. “Whose side are you on?”

“Mine,” I say.

“Dad?”

“Yours.”

I gasp. “Traitor.”

Jude takes a sip of his coffee. “Kid’s got priorities.”

Luca grins and goes straight back to his book. I shake my head.

Of all the things our children could have inherited from us, apparently our inability to put down a good book came from both sides.

“Finish the chapter and wash your hands.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

Dante comes running back inside.

“It flew all the way over the woods!”

“I saw you let it go.”

“Do you think I’ll find another one tomorrow?”

I look through the open door toward where I know the old treehouse stands.

“Maybe.”

“Cool.”

And just like that, he’s gone, racing toward the sink as if the moment meant nothing more than finding something beautiful and letting it go.

Maybe that’s enough.

Giulia eventually comes back into the kitchen, arms crossed over her chest. She’s still glaring at her brother.

Damiano makes the mistake of pulling out the chair beside his. “Sit here, Giu.”

“I’d rather sit in the dumpster.”

Luca bursts out laughing. Dante looks between them.

“Why? Was Damiano in a dumpster?”

“He wasn’t,” Giulia snaps. “He threw someone else in one.”

Dante’s dark eyes widen. “Cool.”

“Not cool,” I say.

“Little cool,” Jude mutters.

My head snaps toward him.