Page 60 of Devour
I know she’s awake, probably still moping, so I let her be. When I get to Noah’s room, his nanny tells me he’s in the playroom, so I head there.
As I walk through the door that connects his bedroom to the playroom, I spot him sitting in the center of the plush carpet, surrounded by robot dinosaurs.
His back is to me, all his attention focused on the little prehistoric battle unfolding in front of him. He doesn’t even notice someone has entered. Not wanting to interrupt just yet, I stay still and watch him play.
He picks up a smaller dinosaur, a Velociraptor and with a dramatic swoosh, he sends it flying straight toward a larger T-Rex.
The big dinosaur topples over with a thud, and Noah urges it to get up, his little hands lifting it slightly before letting it fall again, acting like it’s too weak to stand.
“Little T-Rex wins!” he cheers joyfully.
I must’ve made a sound while cheering along with Little T-Rex without realizing it, because he suddenly notices me. He turns around slowly, his bright eyes locking onto mine.
“Are you, my father?”
I’m caught completely off guard by his straightforward question. It takes me a second to figure out what to say. A whole Luca Falcone stunned speechless by a seven-year-old.
“Yes,” I reply with a short nod, suddenly feeling nervous. “May I join you?” He turns back to his toys, and for a second, I think I’ve just been ignored. But then he says softly,
“Sure.”
I walk over and sit opposite him; legs crossed on the carpet. We sit in awkward silence for a moment as I try to figure out how to start a conversation.
Pointing to the big dinosaur in front of him, I ask, “What’s this one called?” I know exactly what kind it is, but I just want to get him talking.
“It’s a Spinosaurus, but I call him Big T-Rex,” he says proudly. “He’s the biggest of them all.” Makes sense—especially since he had called the smallest one Little T-Rex. I picked up a smaller figure—not quite as small as Little T-Rex.
“What about this one?”
“That’s a Stegosaurus.”
He picks up another.
“And this is a Triceratops.”
He starts explaining the names and powers of each one, his voice filled with excitement. I just sit there, soaking it all in, watching the way his eyes light up. I can already see pieces of Ariel in him. When the moment feels right, I gently bring up what’s been weighing on my chest.
“You know… your mom’s really beating herself up. She thinks you’re mad at her.”
“I’m not mad at Mom.”
The T-Rex—he’d named it Crusher, I think, he marches it across the carpet toward another dinosaur. But then pauses halfway, as he struggles to find the right words. I can see the confusion flicker across his face when he speaks.
“She says it’s bad to lie.”
“She’s right,” I say gently. “It is bad to lie. But sometimes… adults say things or hide things to protect the people they love.” He looks up at me, his voice quieter this time.
“Do you love my Mum?”
Without a moment of hesitation, I answer, “With all my heart. I love you both.” He finally looks at me fully, and for the first time, I glimpse the vulnerability in his eyes.
“May I hug you?”
He gives a small nod—once—almost like a silent plea. I move closer and gently wrap my arms around him, feeling the weight of his unspoken emotions settle between us. I whisper into his hair, trying to offer comfort in the only way I know how.
After a moment, his tiny hands wrap around my side, and his small frame begins to tremble softly against me.
“I’m… glad… you’re… alive.”
