Dante stands stiff as a board with a look of utter shock and awe on his face, his eyes flicking from me to Leo. It is the first time we have seen each other outside of the bedroom, and I am glad I took the time to brush my hair today.

“Leo? Did you just laugh… out loud?” he asks, the surprise obvious in his tone. He doesn’t even sound like himself.

Little Leo nods and gives a small shrug like it is no big deal, before he carries on eating, not wanting to expand on the conversation. I meet Dante’s eyes as we acknowledge the moment. It is a milestone, and we both know it.

“Little Red, my office. Now,” he grits out before he struts away, and I wonder if I have done something wrong. Dante and I have never spoken about Leo’s Mutism. But I have been spending a lot of time with Leo, trying to cultivate a safe space for him to feel comfortable enough to talk if he wants to. Now, as I slip off the stool and follow Dante to his office, I am trying to tamper down my excitement in case Dante thinks I stepped too far over the line into his family matters. I quickly run to catch up with him as he makes his way down the hall to his office, of which I have never been in.

When I follow him in, I am immediately greeted by what can only be described as an overwhelming amount of masculine energy that washes over me as I take in his space. His large desk is made of dark wood, the kind you know is expensive, and not the cheap look-alike material that everyone back home has. His large windows are beautifully draped in deep red velvet curtains, with large leather armchairs nearby, along with a side bar full of whiskey and what looks like a large cupboard, storing who knows what. Perhaps guns, perhaps secret documents. I have no idea how he lives and what he has in his possession. To be honest, I am not sure I want to know.

Dante stands by the window in his office, looking at the view below, and I stand there, waiting. He continues to remain silent, but unable to just stand here any longer, I walk toward him. I can only imagine that hearing his son laugh for the first time in many years must be overwhelming. Even for someone like Dante.

Approaching until I’m standing next to him, I look out at the view below of the large courtyard with its majestic gardens. Without really thinking, I reach out and grab his hand, giving it a squeeze. My nerves immediately leave my body as his hand tightens around mine, and we stand connected.