Maggie arrived with our hot chocolates and a clean dish towel.
“Everything okay?”
“I think so.”
I helped Marco dry his hair with the towel.
“His uncle is coming to get him.”
Marco wrapped his small hands around the mug of hot chocolate, blowing on it carefully before taking a sip. A smudge of whipped cream landed on his nose, and I could not help but smile.
“Good?”
He nodded, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips.
“My papa doesn’t let me have sweets often.”
“After the adventure you’ve had today, you deserve it.”
I took a sip of my own hot chocolate.
“What grade are you in?”
“First grade.”
He seemed to relax a little.
“I go to St. Bernard’s Academy.”
I raised my eyebrows. St. Bernard’s was one of the most exclusive private schools in the city.
“That’s impressive. Do you like it there?”
“It’s okay,” he said, then looked down at his mug. “The other kids don’t talk to me much.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Sometimes it takes a while to make friends.”
He shrugged, a surprisingly adult gesture for such a small child.
“My papa says I don’t need friends because I have family.”
Before I could respond to that concerning statement, the bell above the coffee shop door jingled, and a blast of cold air swept in.
Two men entered, both wearing dark suits despite the weather. The first was tall and broad-shouldered, with close-cropped dark hair and a scar running from his ear to his jawline. The second was slimmer and younger, with the same dark hair as Marco.
“Uncle Nico!”
Marco jumped down from the booth and ran to the younger man, who knelt and enveloped him in a tight hug.
“Marco, thank God.”
Nicholas Russo’s voice was thick with relief. He pulled back, holding the boy at arm’s length and scanning him for injuries.
“Are you hurt? Did anyone touch you?”
“I’m okay. Miss Ellie found me and bought me hot chocolate.”
Nicholas Russo’s eyes flicked up to meet mine, and I felt a chill that had nothing to do with my damp clothes. His gaze was calculating, assessing me as if I were a potential threat rather than someone who had helped a lost child.
He stood, keeping one hand firmly on Marco’s shoulder.
“Thank you for finding my nephew.”
“Of course. Anyone would have done the same.”
“No,” he said flatly. “They wouldn’t have.”
The larger man remained by the door, his hand inside his jacket, his eyes constantly scanning the coffee shop and the street outside. Only 3 other customers were in the shop, and all of them were suddenly very interested in their laptops or phones.
