“Beautiful,” the man says, handing me the camera. “This will make for a great postcard to send to your family.”

“Not for my family it won’t,” Valentino sadly says.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” the man says. “I’m happy you’re living your life as you should.”

“Thank you, sir.” Valentino shakes the man’s hand, and I do the same.

I turn to Mateo. “Sorry if we scared you before. Truce?”

I hold out my fist for a pound, but Mateo goes for a handshake. Then as I open my fist he forms his. He’s blushing and seems upset—not pissed like that Rufus kid back at the pawnshop—but disappointed in himself like he can’t do anything right. All that shit is valid, I definitely went through a lot of anger and shame when I was figuring out life without my parents. There were never any magic words that made me feel better when I was deep in it, and I don’t know this kid enough to even try casting some spell on him. I just keep it real.

“Hey, you’re okay,” I tell Mateo.

Mateo doesn’t seem to believe it.

“Come on, son. Let’s head up to the park,” the man says, sensing it’s probably best for Mateo to back out of this situation. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“That’s the goal,” Valentino says with a smile only I understand. We watch the two walk away, the man hugging Mateo close. “It’s nice to see a father care for his son like that.”

“It reminds me of my dad,” I say. I’m so used to talking about my parents so fondly that I forget to filter for Valentino who didn’t get so lucky. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for your loving childhood. I know it’s messed up, but I would honestly say I had one too. I can remember what it really felt like for my parents to love me. Tons of gifts under the Christmas tree, big birthday parties, taking care of me when I was sick. We had movie nights where Scarlett and I got to pick what we watched. If Scarlett and I couldn’t agree on one movie, our dad would stay up for double features.” He looks around at Times Square. “I think if I grew up in New York my parents would’ve taken us everywhere. The Statue of Liberty, the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center, Radio City, Empire State Building. Here, of course.”