#Chapter 164 – Giana

Ricky pulls himself up on a stool too as I clench my jaw against my tears and start to make plates for the two of them, wanting quiet desperately to do something kind for them and haunted by the fact that nothing I do can really ever put a dent in the sadness of this day. The children are quiet as well, answering my questions about whether they want milk and ketchup – yes to both – and then quietly starting to eat. I wrap what’s left of the food from their tray in foil and slip it into the fridge before turning towards the other ones – the adult food, apparently. “Is our dad really dead?” Ricky asks, and I turn in surprise to see him looking down at his food, pushing what’s left on his plate around with his fork. My mouth falls open a little as I try to figure out what the hell to say to that. Bella looks up at me, tears in her eyes. But the interest there, the need for confirmation – it pushes me to speak. “Yes, baby,” I say quietly, stepping closer to both of them, wanting t