A week later, I found myself in Lena's small kitchen with a pile of wood, nails, and a determined five-year-old grinning up at me.
"Uncle Dom," Eliana said, pointing to the pile. "You said we'd make a birdhouse. Are you ready?"
Her excitement was a bit contagious and I didn't know I needed. "I'm ready," I said, rolling up my sleeves. "But you're the designer. I'm just the assistant at your service."
She giggled. "Okay! First, we need a square. Mommy, can I have the ruler?"
Lena leaned against the counter, arms folded, watching. She didn't say a word, but her eyes tracked everything—my movements, my patience, the way Eliana bounced in and out of the room for markers and glue.
Halfway through, the hammer slipped and I swore under my breath. Eliana gasped, wide-eyed.
"You said a bad word."
I grimaced. "You're right. My mistake." I crouched down to her level. "Tell you what, I'll put a dollar in the 'oops jar' for every bad word I say around you. Deal?"
Her laughter filled the kitchen. "Deal!"
Lena's mouth twitched, almost a smile, before she smoothed it away and turned.
By the time the birdhouse was standing, crooked nails and all, Eliana clapped like it was the most extraordinary thing she'd ever seen.
"Mommy! Look! Uncle Dom built it with me!"
Lena's gaze softened despite herself. "It's wonderful, sweetheart."
Eliana turned back to me, eyes bright. "Can you stay for dinner? Please?"
I looked at Lena, waiting for the dismissal I was sure would come.
But instead, she hesitated. Just for a heartbeat.
And in that pause, I felt something shift.
Eliana's eyes widened hopefully. "Can Uncle Dom stay for dinner, Mommy? Please?"
The room went still. I didn't dare answer.
Lena's arms folded tighter across her chest, and for a long second, I thought she'd say no. But then she glanced at Eliana—her bright, pleading face—and exhaled slowly.
"One dinner," she said. "That's it."
Eliana squealed, tugging me toward the table to set up.
I almost smiled, but stopped myself. This wasn't a victory. This was mercy. And I wasn't about to waste it. Not even for a minute.
******
The meal was a simple—roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans—but it felt like a feast. Eliana chattered nonstop, her fork waving dangerously close to spilling food all over the table.
"Uncle Dom, did you know lions sleep twenty hours a day?" she asked between bites.
"Really?" I raised my brows. "That sounds like me on Sundays."
She giggled so hard she nearly dropped her fork.
Lena rolled her eyes. "Don't encourage her. Allow her to eat, if not she wastes the food."
But there was a faint curve to her lips she couldn't quite hide.
Halfway through the meal, Eliana leaned close to me and whispered loudly enough for Lena to hear, "Mommy never lets me have dessert on weekdays. Can you convince her?"
I feigned shock. "No dessert? That sounds like a tragedy."
Lena gave me a sharp look. "Don't you dare support her."
I held up my hands, grinning. "Far beneath me to undermine house rules." Then I winked at Eliana. "But maybe we can renegotiate for Fridays."
Eliana gasped as if I'd offered her the moon. "Yes!"
Lena muttered something under her breath about "awful effects," but her cheeks flushed the faintest pink when I caught her looking at me.
******
Later, after dinner and her night bath, Eliana insisted I tuck her in and read her a story.
She clutched the little birdhouse we'd made together, resting it on her nightstand. "Do you think birds will live in it?"
"Of course," I said, smoothing her blanket. "And when they do, they'll be the luckiest birds in the world—because they'll have a house built by you."
Her smile was sleepy but radiant. "Thanks, Uncle Dom. I like you a lot. And I think mommy likes you too."
The words pierced me in the best and worst ways.
"I like you too, cub," I whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead.
When I stepped back into the hallway, Lena was there, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. But her expression wasn't hard this time. It was complicated. Torn.
"You're good with her, and I don't like you," she said quietly.
"She makes it easy, and I never said you liked me," I answered with a faint smile at our cheerful banter.
Silence stretched between us, thick with things unsaid.
Finally, Lena shook her head and walked toward the kitchen. "Don't read into this, Dominic. One dinner doesn't change the past."
But her voice lacked the sharp edge from before. It felt like she was telling herself and not me.
And that gave me hope for a better future.