“Of course.”
He reached into his jacket and produced a business card, which he handed to me. It was simple, elegant, with only his name and a phone number embossed in silver.
“Take a week. The offer stands until then.”
Before I could respond, the door opened and Marco burst in, already dressed in blue pajamas with spaceships on them.
“Papa, is Miss Ellie here? Uncle Nico said she was.”
He stopped when he saw me, his small face lighting up.
“You came!”
I could not help but smile at his enthusiasm.
“Hi, Marco. I brought your backpack.”
“Thank you.”
He ran over and took it from me, then looked up at his father.
“Can Miss Ellie stay for dinner?”
Dante placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, his expression softening in a way I would not have thought possible.
“Miss Ellie was just leaving, piccolo. It’s past your bedtime.”
Marco’s face fell, but Dante spoke firmly.
“No arguments. Say good night to Miss Ellie.”
Marco sighed dramatically, but did as he was told.
“Good night, Miss Ellie. Will you come back soon?”
I glanced at Dante, who watched our interaction with unreadable eyes.
“Maybe,” I said carefully. “If your papa invites me.”
“He will,” Marco said with the absolute confidence of a child. “I’ll make him.”
Dante chuckled, a warm, genuine sound that transformed his face.
“Go find Uncle Nico. I’ll be up to read your story in 10 minutes.”
Marco nodded and scampered out of the room, taking his backpack with him.
Once he was gone, I said, “He’s a wonderful boy.”
“He’s my world,” Dante replied.
