Chapter 12 - What the Children Choose
The twins turned seven in October. For the first time, Luca was there when they woke up.
Not in my house.
We had rented a lake house in Wisconsin for the weekend because Theo wanted “trees with actual colors” and Lily wanted a fireplace. Luca arrived the night before and slept in the guest cabin twenty yards away. Boundaries.
At 6:12 a.m., Theo ran outside in dinosaur pajamas and pounded on Luca’s door.
“WE ARE SEVEN.”
Luca opened it looking half dead.
“I was informed this would happen at breakfast.”
“It is breakfast time.”
“It is legally night.”
Theo dragged him inside anyway.
By eight, the table was covered in pancakes, wrapping paper, syrup and arguments.
Luca gave the children one gift each.
A telescope for Theo.
A professional art set for Lily.
Both thoughtful.
Both within the budget we agreed on.
“You listened,” I said.
“I occasionally do.”
“No trust funds in boxes?”
“Those are separate.”
I stared.
He grinned.
“Kidding.”
The children spent the afternoon by the lake.
At sunset, Theo sat beside Luca on the dock.
I was close enough to hear.
“Can I call you Dad all the time now?”
Luca went still.
“You can call me anything you want.”
“Not Luca?”
“If you want Luca, use Luca.”
“Dad is shorter.”
“Practical.”
Theo nodded.
Then Lily joined them.
“I already call you Dad.”
“I noticed.”
“Mom still calls you Luca.”
I nearly choked.
Luca glanced back at me.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s my name.”
“That’s not what she asked,” Theo said.
Traitors.
Luca looked toward the water.
“Your mom and I used to be married.”
“We know.”
“And now we’re not.”
“We know.”
“Adults can care about each other without being married.”
Lily frowned.
“Do you care about Mom?”
Luca looked directly at me.
“Yes.”
My heart stopped.
Theo asked, “Does Mom care about you?”
Luca smiled slightly.
“You’ll have to ask her.”
I walked away before they could.
Cowardice sometimes remains adaptive.
Later that night, Lily came into my room.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Do you love Dad?”
Children should require permits before asking questions.
“I love many things about him.”
“That’s not yes.”
“Go to bed.”
“Adults avoid questions when the answer is yes.”
“Who taught you that?”
“Aunt Jana.”
I made a mental note to revoke Jana’s privileges.
Lily climbed beside me.
“Can Dad live with us someday?”
My chest tightened.
“I don’t know.”
“Would you be mad?”
“No.”
“Scared?”
That child saw everything.
“A little.”
“Why?”
“Because your dad and I hurt each other before.”
“Does he hurt you now?”
“No.”
“Do you hurt him?”
“I hope not.”
“Then maybe you learned.”
I kissed her forehead.
“Seven-year-olds are exhausting.”
“I know.”
The following week, Luca asked me to dinner.
Not a family dinner.
A date.
I said no.
He accepted immediately.
That annoyed me.
“You could at least look disappointed.”
“I am devastated.”
“You look calm.”
“My therapist says not to manipulate people through visible suffering.”
I stared.
“Your therapist is ruining you.”
“Would you prefer the old version?”
“No.”
“Then dinner?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
Two weeks later he asked again.
“No.”
“Okay.”
Three weeks after that:
“Coffee?”
“Is this a loophole?”
“Yes.”
I laughed.
“Fine.”
Coffee became two hours.
We talked about nothing important.
Movies.
Work.
The twins.
A disastrous Moretti family Christmas from 2017 involving a goose.
It felt more intimate than any formal date we had during the last year of our marriage.
Then Luca said, “I don’t want our old marriage back.”
I looked at him.
“Good.”
“I want something new.”
“That sounds suspiciously like a pitch.”
“I am trying not to pitch.”
“You’re bad at it.”
“I built a career pitching.”
“Exactly.”
He smiled.
“I know you don’t trust me yet.”
“I trust you with the children.”
“That means everything.”
“It isn’t the same as trusting you with me.”
“I know.”
No argument.
I stared out the window.
“What would you do if I said never?”
His face changed.
“Never what?”
“Never us.”
He took a breath.
“I would be heartbroken.”
“And?”
“I would still pick Theo up Wednesday. Still attend Lily’s recital. Still respect you. Still build a life that doesn’t punish you for refusing me.”
I looked at him.
That answer mattered more than any declaration of love.
“Ask me to dinner again.”
He went still.
“What?”
“I said ask.”
“Nia Carter, would you have dinner with me?”
“Yes.”
His smile made me remember being twenty-eight and stupidly in love.
This time, I was older.
Less stupid.
Still in danger.
Dinner happened at a tiny Italian restaurant where nobody cared who Luca Moretti was.
We split pasta.
He told me he sold the penthouse.
“Why?”
“Too many ghosts.”
“I loved that kitchen.”
“I hated that kitchen.”
“You chose the countertops.”
“I made mistakes.”
Afterward, he walked me home.
At my door, he did not kiss me.
I almost wanted him to.
That was how I knew I was not ready.
“Goodnight,” he said.
“Goodnight.”
He turned.
“Luca.”
He looked back.
I kissed his cheek.
His eyes closed briefly.
Then he smiled.
“Goodnight, Nia.”
I went upstairs.
My phone buzzed five minutes later.
Theo says you forgot his science folder in my car. I assume this is not a romantic emergency.
I laughed.
That was the beginning.
May you like
Not of our old love returning.
Of something new learning how to walk.
