Because I had learned the one thing that whole season existed to teach me: when a person shows you exactly who they are the moment they believe you have nothing, you owe them no room in your life once you have everything.

“Your mother and I looked through the Italy photos again last night,” my father said, looking out at the bright street.

“That sunset over the Ponte Vecchio.

We still can’t get over it.”

“That was the whole point,” I said.

“It’s the best gift we’ve ever gotten.” He turned and looked at me.

“Not the trip.

What it meant.