“Dad.” His expression softens immediately.
“I worry about you, Antonia.”
I know. That’s the problem. Because worrying becomesprotecting with him. And protecting becomes control before either of us notices. Before I can answer, Elena reappears carrying tiramisu.
“Good,” she announces. “Nobody looks emotionally devastated anymore.”
“We were having a normal conversation,” I say.
“Frank has sad eyes,” Elena replies immediately.
My father nearly chokes on his coffee. “I do not.”
“You absolutely do.”
“I’ve officiated playoff hockey for decades.”
“And underneath that, sadness.” She sets dessert down in front of him. “Eat your tiramisu.”
He looks at the plate. Then at her. Then — impossibly — obeys. I gawk now, my mouth hanging open. “This is unbelievable.”
Elena points her fork at me triumphantly. “See? He needs supervision.”
Frank shakes his head slowly, but he’s smiling now. Relaxed enough to look like himself. And suddenly I understand exactly why Elena likes him. That realization hits approximately one second before the door buzzer rings on my phone. All three of us freeze.
Elena frowns. “Are you expecting someone?”
“No.” Frank glances toward the phone. Then toward me. His eyes snap into focus. And for the first time all night, unease slides faintly down my spine. “Hello?”
“Toni?” Piper’s voice crackles warmly throughthe intercom. “Please tell me you’re home because I have cannoli and a childcare-induced emotional breakdown.”
I blink. Behind me, Elena gasps. “Cannoli.”
Frank sets his coffee down. “Let her up.”
I turn slowly. “You’re taking the side of a stranger because of dessert?”
“She sounds stressed,” he says calmly. “And she has cannoli.”
Traitor. I buzz Piper in. Thirty seconds later, the apartment door swings open, and Piper stumbles inside, balancing two bakery boxes, an oversized tote bag, and approximately seventeen levels of exhaustion.
“Okay,” she says breathlessly. “Before anybody judges me, Chase took the kids to the indoor playground, and I bought pastries I refuse to eat alone.” Then she notices my father sitting at the table. Piper freezes. “Oh my God,” she whispers. “I interrupted family dinner.”
“You brought cannoli,” Frank says gravely. “You’re welcome here.”
Piper visibly relaxes. “You know what? I like him.”
“Everybody likes him,” I mutter.
“Not hockey players,” Frank replies automatically.
That earns him a startled laugh from Piper as she steps fully into the apartment and hands Elena one of the pastry boxes.
“This is Piper,” I explain carefully. “She’s?—”
“Max Stevens’ sister,” Frank finishes smoothly. The room goes still for half a beat. My spine locks instantly.
Piper blinks. “You know Max?”
