Chapter 7 - THE BREAKFAST TABLE TRUCE
The kitchen was dead silent, save for the hum of the refrigerator and the steady drip-drip of rainwater falling from Luca’s soaked jacket into a plastic bucket I had placed beneath him.
He sat at my small wooden kitchen table—a stark contrast to the marble-and-steel islands of his downtown penthouse—holding a mug of steaming black coffee in both hands. He had changed into an old oversized flannel shirt and sweatpants I had dug out from a box in the guest closet, items left behind by my brother years ago. They hung loosely on his frame, making him look strangely vulnerable.
I stood by the stove, flipping pancakes for the kids’ breakfast, my back turned to him.
“You don't have to stay, Luca,” I said quietly, spatula in hand. “The storm is passing.”
“I want to stay,” he replied, his voice rough from the cold night air. “Even if it’s just for an hour. Even if it’s just to watch you exist in a space that doesn't involve balance sheets or boardrooms.”
I turned around, leaning against the counter, and crossed my arms.
“The legal battle is still on your desk, Luca. My lawyer is ready to fight you tooth and nail for sole custody.”
“Let her,” Luca said, taking a slow sip of his coffee. “I instructed my legal team this morning to withdraw the custody petition. I’m not going to drag you and the kids through a brutal courtroom war, Nia. Whatever you decide is fair—visitation, supervised meetings, letters through a lawyer—I’ll accept it. I won't force my way into your lives with a subpoena.”
I studied him closely, searching for the arrogant, calculating CEO I had divorced. All I saw was a man who looked like he had finally learned what regret actually felt like.
Just then, the patter of small feet echoed from the hallway upstairs.
“Mom? Is breakfast ready?” Maya’s voice drifted down, followed closely by Leo’s heavy footsteps.
My heart skipped a beat. I looked at Luca.
Luca froze. His coffee mug hovered an inch from his lips, his dark eyes widening with a sudden, panicked vulnerability.
“Go,” I whispered to him, pointing toward the back mudroom. “Wait in the study. I’ll handle this.”
Before Luca could move, the kitchen doorway swung open, and Maya trotted in, rubbing her sleepy eyes. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the tall man sitting at our kitchen table in borrowed sweatpants.
Maya blinked, tilting her head.
“Hey,” she said slowly. “You’re the strange man from the restaurant who wanted a strawberry.”
Luca slowly lowered his mug. He looked at Maya, then at Leo, who had appeared behind his sister with a suspicious scowl on his face.
Luca didn't run. He didn't hide behind legal jargon or corporate charm. He looked at them with a soft, aching tenderness that completely transformed his harsh features.
“I am,” Luca said, his voice surprisingly steady. “I’m sorry I stared at you. I was just… very surprised to see how wonderful you both were.”
Leo crossed his arms defensively, standing protectively in front of his sister. “Mom says we shouldn't talk to strangers.”
A small, genuine smile touched the corners of Luca’s mouth—a smile I hadn't seen in nearly a decade.
“Your mom is entirely right, buddy,” Luca replied softly. “I’m not a stranger, though. At least… I’d really like the chance to not be one anymore.”
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Maya looked from Luca to me, her sharp hazel eyes taking in the scene. She didn't say anything, but she didn't run away either.
And for the first time in six years, the air in the room felt light enough to breathe.
