Page 60 of The Art of Ruin

The words land heavier than I expect.

Before I can respond, Matteo points suddenly toward the living room. “Uh oh.”

Inside, Letty has apparently covered Casey’s nose in frosting.

Casey retaliates immediately.

Isabella screams.

Rossi looks delighted, but Elena looks horrified.

And for the first time since Thanksgiving, Casey laughs without restraint, head falling back while Letty clings to her arm, shrieking with delight.

The sound carries faintly through the glass even from out here.

Warm.

Real.

Alive.

Beside me, Matteo looks unbearably smug. “Oh,” he says softly. “You are so fucked.”

8.Casey

By the timeFriday rolls around, Letty informs me—very firmly—that it’s her last day of preschool before Christmas, which apparently means she deserves a treat.

“It’s important,” she explains, standing in the middle of the kitchen with her coat half on and her hair still slightly crooked from where I braided it that morning. “Because I worked very hard.”

“At what, exactly?” I ask, reaching to fix her braid properly.

“Learning,” she says, like it should be obvious.

I huff out a quiet laugh, smoothing the loose strands back into place. “Well, we can’t ignore that level of effort.”

“So we’re going out?”

“We’re going out,” I confirm.

That’s all the encouragement she needs.

“Do we have to wear scarves?” Letty asks as I wrap hers securely around her neck, her voice already edged with complaint.

“Yes,” I say, tucking the ends into her coat so they won’t come loose.

“I can’t breathe.”

“You’re talking, so you can breathe,” I point out, adjusting her hat when it slips back slightly.

“That’s because I’m strong.”

A smile pulls at my mouth despite myself. I crouch a little to make sure everything is sitting properly, smoothing the wool down over her ears before straightening again. “Hat stays on,” I add.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”