Page 236 of Lorenzo

“I am younger than you.”

“Barely.”

“Enough that it matters.”

Mario smiles faintly, but his attention does not leave me.

I know what he is doing now.

He is not trying to convince me to want another child.

He is asking whether I have allowed myself to consider that the life I assumed was finished might have changed again.

Donna enters my thoughts immediately.

She is in my kitchen more often than her own lately. Her things have appeared in my bathroom and bedroom. Mocha has toys scattered across the floor, and the snacks Donna likes to munch on when she's doing research have appeared in my kitchen.

Last night, after everything that happened, Donna stood in my bedroom wearing one of my shirts and argued with me about whether she really needed extra security on her office.

Then she climbed into my bed, curled against me, and fell asleep.

I woke before her this morning and spent several minutes simply looking at her.

That is still new enough to unsettle me.

So is loving her.

So is knowing she loves me.

Children are so far beyond anything I have allowed myself to consider that the thought feels almost ridiculous.

“I have not thought that far ahead,” I admit.

Mario nods once.

“Things with Donna are new.”

“You love her.”

“Yes.” There is no hesitation now.

Yesterday the words came out in the middle of an argument, which should not surprise me. It perfectly encompasses the relationship between Donna and me so far.

“I love her.”

“And she loves you.”

A smile pulls at my mouth before I can stop it.

“Yes.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I remain somewhat surprised.”

“Why?”

“Because she is very stubborn.”