He sits back at his desk and gives me a wide smile that seems touched with whimsy. “There is a twenty-year age gap between myself and my wife. Jesse’s mother. Did you know that?” I shake my head and he nods. “I felt very similar to you when I met Gianna. You say how pretty Jesse is. Well, she was the same. Vivid and stunning. Very funny.” He folds his hands. “And I was smaller and older and far too serious.”

“What did you do?” I finally say.

He smiles. “I fought it. I told her very pompously that she deserved better. Broke up with her and set her free.”

“What happened?”

He winks. “I came up against the Bennici determination. Jesse has it too. A very passionate determination. Gianna declared that I was a fool, an idiot. She ranted at me in Italian for a very long time. Luckily, I didn’t know the language.” He smiles. “I still don’t. When she shouts at me, I think it’s probably best not to understand.” I laugh and he waves a hand. “She declared her intention of not being bossed around by her husband. I refrained from telling her that I hadn’t proposed yet, and instead gave in and got down on one knee. We married and all these years later we’re still together.” He looks intently at me. “There is still the age gap between us. That itself will never change.”

“What did change, then?”

He smiles. “I realised that I would rather be with her than be alone. I would rather have her by my side than have years of regrets. I realised that I was being arrogant by forcing her to abide by my concerns, when the only person who had a say in whether she stayed with me was her.”

I sit back in the chair. “I’m still worried,” I say candidly. “I don’t want him to regret being with me.”

“And I like that,” he says firmly. “It indicates a strength of character and a selfless concern for my son’s happiness that I want to see in the person he settles down with.” He pauses. “What I don’t like is cruelty, Zeb. If you don’t want him, set him free, but don’t string him along. He has a good heart and doesn’t deserve that.”

I sit forward. “I won’t. I promise.” I shrug helplessly. “I hate hurting him. I’d rather cut my own arm off.”