Luca Aldarossi sat down on the end of my bed.

“Please don’t show that to my mother,” he said.

And there it was.

Not please don’t leave me. Not please let me explain to you.

“Nine o’clock tomorrow morning,” I said.

“Here.

Your parents, her parents, her, you.

And you can explain it to all of them at once, so that nobody has to hear it from me and decide whether I’m exaggerating.”