*Olivia*

After our rich, heavy meal, Salvatore walked me to the door of the restaurant like a proper gentleman. I’d been so nervous about tonight, but something about the faraway look he got in his eyes every time I mentioned Mom or one of my achievements put me at ease.

I knew that look. I used to have it in my eyes when I dreamed about who my father might be.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “So, how’d I do? Did I pass?”

I laughed. “I ...