Luca's POV
Sunday was quiet.
Maya slept until seven thirty, which she said never happened, and I believed her based on the slightly disoriented way she came to the kitchen and stood at the coffee maker like she was reintroducing herself to it.
I handed her a cup before she had to operate the machine.
She looked at me over the rim.
"You made it already," she said.
"I've been up for an hour."
"Why."
"I woke up and couldn't sleep and didn't want to wake you."
She held the cup. "What were you doing?"
"Sitting here."
"For an hour."
"Reading. Thinking." I held her gaze. "Watching the light change."
She looked at the east window. The morning light was doing what it did. Specific and quiet and already mine in the way things become mine, without announcement.
"That's something a perso
