*Olivia*
I tapped my fingers against the dining table and stared at Elio, gumming on a piece of plain toast in his high chair. The dinner was tonight, and I knew Sal wouldn’t answer a call before nine, but I itched to call him anyway. Maria—and the rest of the kitchen—hadn’t been able to get me a start time until this morning.
Dahlia swept into the dining room with a backpack on. I shot up in a panic—I needed her today—before remembering she had an hour-long group project meeting.
I dropped back into my seat with a sigh. “Do you think I’m silly for worrying this much? He’s been to the house before, it just feels… different.”
Dahlia grabbed a piece of un-Elio’d toast off a plate in the middle of the table and took a bite.
