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“Hello,” she said around a mouthful of French toast.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m better. Do you remember how in the hospital they gave me ice cream?”
I chuckle. “Yes, they did do that.”
“That was fun. Can we go again?”
“Not anytime soon. Luna,” I say, shifting slightly in my chair. “I have something I’d like to talk to you about.”
She blinks up at me, powdered sugar falling across her pajamas.
I take a deep breath. I feel Caterina’s hand on my shoulder, supporting me.
I look at the child who is so like me, in both looks and temperament.
And I think about the type of father that I would like to be.
“Luna,” I say quietly. “I’m not just your mommy’s friend.”
She frowns. “You’re not Mommy’s friend?”
“I am. I am her friend. I am also her husband.”
“What’s a husband?”
I look hopelessly at Caterina, who is stifling a giggle.
“It’s someone who loves your mother very, very much.”
“I love Mommy,” she says, nodding as if this makes the most sense anything has ever made.
“She’s easy to love,” I say with a smile.
Luna hums in agreement.
“I’m also something special to you. Someone who loves you, no matter what.”
Luna tilts her head. “Like what?”
This is it.
I can’t put this off any longer.
“Luna. I am not just your mommy’s friend and her husband. I am your father.”
“What’s a father?”
I sigh. “I’m your dad, Luna.”
Her little eyebrows furrow. Then they go wide. “Do you drive a truck?”
I look at Caterina, who shrugs. “Why?”
“At school, Tommy Mancini says that dads drive trucks.”
“I can drive a truck, I venture.”
