GIANNI POV
The glass whiskey teeters towards my mouth before I inhale the last few ounces. My eyes stray to the standing frames poised on the mantle, pictures of my son, including the one that was taken from me. Anger spikes and I hurl the glass in the maw of the flagstone hearth as it shatters on impact. I grab the whiskey from the side table to drink it straight from the bottle with my face inclined.
"Papa?"
I splutter a few drops as a few dribble down my chin. I lurch, catching a glimpse of my youngest's small silhouette as I jerk my torso aside to plant the bottle on the other side of the armchair I'm seated on.
"What's that?" Tommy asks.
"Daddy's apple juice—what are you doing up?"
