“You’re way too young to be into Jimi Hendrix.”

“Hey, I’m 18,” he said, raising his hand defensively.

I laughed. “I’m Manuela Ro—” I choked on my last name. “Just Manuela. Call me Manu.”

“Nice to meet you, Manuela Ro,” he teased, extending his hand. “I’m Aster. Just Aster.”

I burst out laughing and shook his hand. “Not Manuela Ro. Just Manu.”

“Phew,” he joked. “That’d be a weird combo. I love your son’s name. And… he’s gorgeous. Looks just ...