I looked through the kitchen doorway.
“It ended.”
For the first time, saying it felt calm.
Not bitter.
Ended.
Alessandro nodded.
“That sounds clear.”
“It took ten months.”
“Still.”
Then:
“What do you want for yourself?”
I laughed.
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
“Maybe because you answer every other question.”
I thought.
“I don’t know.”
“That seems inconvenient.”
“It is.”
For the last year, everything had been immediate.
Pregnancy.
Bills.
Rent.
Work.
Mia.
No horizon longer than seventeen days.
Wanting things required time.
“I used to work in hotel operations.”
Alessandro looked surprised.
“Not housekeeping?”
“Before Mia.”
“Where?”
“A boutique hotel in SoHo.”
“What did you do?”
“Guest services supervisor.”
“Why leave?”
“Hours.”
“Pregnancy?”
“Yes.”
“Did you like it?”
“Some parts.”
“What parts?”
“Solving problems.”
He almost smiled.
“Dangerous.”
“Different kind.”
“What did you hate?”
“Guests who thought money meant physics didn’t apply to them.”
He laughed.
Actual
