Luca thought immediately of Marco as someone who had spent his life earning space without demanding it.
And then he thought of Veronica. Of the child. It was one thing to want distance for a child.
Another thing entirely to choose the center of the fire for himself.
"I cannot move to Italy permanently, Dad. My life is in New York," Luca continued. "I have—" He stopped, exhaled, then looked at his father. "Dad… no."
"What would you have me do?" Massimo asked. "The only one left is… your cousin," he said reluctantly. "And his father kept him away from all of this. He does not know the first thing about the famiglia."
"Which, frankly, sounds like excellent parenting."
That earned Luca a look.
Luca lifted both hands. "I'm serious. I don't know, Dad. There is enough time for all of this," Luca said at last. "Can we just celebrate tonight?"
"Of course," Massimo said. "I apologise." He gestured lightly toward the door. "Go. Go prepare."
