Chapter 13

My sons were acting suspiciously. Really suspicious.

There was this look they were sharing, like they were anxiously waiting for something.

What made it so obvious was that for every bite of breakfast Michael and Nathan ate, they kept turning to the door leading out of the dining room. That and they were too quiet.

They were waiting for something or someone, but who?

“Michael! Nathan! Could you tell me why you keep looking at the door? Aren’t you hungry?” I asked, and they snapped their heads at me.

“We are hungry.” Michael said, scooping a big spoonful of oats into his mouth. “But we were also wondering when Papa was going to join us.”

“Joining us for what?”

‘Please don’t say breakfast. Please don’t say breakfast. Please.’

“For breakfast, like he did yesterday.”

‘Of course, he was going to say that.’

I dropped my fork and gave him a strained smile.

“I’m not sure.”

“Why?” Nathan piqued.

“Well…” I trailed off.

How was I going to explain to them that Dante having breakfast