. . . ELEANOR I sat in the passenger seat of Dante's sleek car, the hum of the engine a steady background to our quiet conversation. The cityscape blurred by as we drove, the sun casting a warm glow on the streets. Dante’s hand rested comfortably on the steering wheel, his other occasionally reaching over to give my knee a reassuring squeeze. I slouched back into the car seat and a whimper escaped her lips. She pouted, not feeling like going anywhere but had to, just because of my father. We were on our way to her father’s house for lunch, a familial gathering that had me both excited and a bit anxious. I wanted to know how this meeting was going to be. “You’re thinking too much,” Dante said, glancing over at me with a small smile. I was not thinking about anything but I also

