“Where were you?”
Dante hadn’t raised his voice.
That somehow made the question worse.
Marco looked between them.
I stepped forward before thinking.
“Maybe not in front of him.”
Silence swallowed the entire coffee shop.
Maggie looked at me as though I’d just slapped a sleeping bear.
Nicholas stared.
Dante slowly turned his head toward me.
I wished, briefly and intensely, that I had kept my mouth shut.
But Marco was watching his father’s face, and I recognized the expression on his own.
The boy was beginning to think the whole disaster was his fault.
So I held Dante’s gaze.
“He’s already had a frightening evening,” I said.
“Whatever happened with the pickup can wait until he’s somewhere dry and calm.”
Dante studied me.
Then he looked down at Marco.
The boy’s fingers had curled around the bottom of his father’s coat.
Something changed in Dante’s face.
He crouched again.
“Marco.
Look at me.”
Marco did.
“You are not in trouble.”
“But I left school.”
“And we’ll talk about that later.
You are not in trouble right now.
Do you understand?”
Marco nodded.
“Good.”
Dante stood and looked at Nicholas.
“Later.”
Nicholas nodded immediately.
I released a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
Maggie crouched to clean the broken cup.
Her hands were shaking.
Dante noticed that too.
He seemed to notice everything.
“Who owns this place?” he asked.
Maggie froze.
“I do.”
“What does my son owe you?”
“Nothing.”
“The drinks.”
“They’re on the house.”
“No.”
He reached inside his coat.
Maggie stiffened so visibly that I did too.
Dante removed a wallet.
The absurdity of my relief nearly made me laugh.
He placed enough cash beside the register to cover far more than two hot chocolates.
Maggie pushed some of it back.
“This is too much.”
“Then keep the rest for the trouble.”
“There wasn’t any trouble.”
