Page 266 of Merciless Daddy

Pietro leaned close whenever Angela spoke, though the room was not loud enough to require it.

Kiryl moved between everyone. He looked comfortable enough to interrupt Dante, steal from Tonio’s plate, and let Donatella fix his collar without flinching.

The room held overlapping voices, cutlery, laughter, complaints, and the movement of people who did not require silence to feel safe.

I sat beside Sal.

His thigh touched mine beneath the table.

Every few minutes, his hand found the back of my neck or my wrist. Not checking.

Connecting.

When the main plates were cleared, Tonio stood.

The room took several seconds to notice.

Then Katerina struck a spoon against her glass.

“Quiet,” she said.

Everyone obeyed.

Tonio looked around the room. For once, he did not begin with a joke.

“This place burned because somebody thought taking a building from us would take away what happened inside it,” he said.

His English grew more accented when he was emotional. The words slowed.

“A restaurant is not walls. It is who eats there. Who cooks. Who stays after closing to drink the good wine the owner pretends not to know is missing.”

A few people smiled.

Tonio’s eyes shone.

“It is the first meal after a funeral. The first dinner when somebody comes home. It is birthdays. Fights. Bad dates. Good dates—we hope. Family who came from blood and family who came because they were hungry and we fed them until they stopped trying to leave.”

Katerina looked down.

Tonio found her across the room.

“This restaurant burned,” he said. “The bakery window broke. People got hurt. We lost money. We lost time. We did not lose each other.”

His voice caught.

He looked annoyed by it.

“So we built again. Bigger, because apparently none of us understands restraint.”

A laugh moved through the tables.

Tonio lifted his glass.

“To the people who came back.”

Glasses rose.

“To the ones who rebuilt.”