FELICIA'S POV
The glass hit the tile before I felt my fingers let go of it, grit scattering white across the floor, two long shards skating off toward the tub. I hadn't thrown it. I want that much on record, even with myself.
I knelt down anyway and started gathering the pieces up with my bare hands, three rooms off in my head, back in the silence Luca had left behind in the study, and one edge opened the pad of my thumb — and only then did I think to trade my fingers for a towel.
Camila found me in the hallway twenty minutes later, dressed, hair only half brushed, dragging the rabbit along by its good ear. The other one had come loose at the seam.
"Mama." She stopped in front of me and looked up with that plain, level directness only small children can manage. "Are we staying here for
