I expect him to show some sign that this is f****d, that this is really, really messed up. But instead he nods slowly. “I get why you want to,” he says. “He proved himself in the end. He died saving you. I’ll always be grateful to him for that. And if what he said was true, he wasn’t the monster I thought he was. Yes, Hazel, let’s honor his memory. But you’ve lost your damn mind if you think he’s not going to have an Italian middle name.”
“Luigi?” I tease. “Mario? Ratatouille?”
“Ratatouille?” He looks horrified. “That’s French, first of all. And second…”
But he doesn’t get to finish, because my laughing draws the attention of his mother and sister. Emily lets out a cry and shrugs off her blankets, wheeling over. Tears are in her eyes as she tries to joke, “Thanks for the invite, bro.”
