The low hum of voices slipped through Luca's half-sleep, pulling him awake.
He rolled over, blinking at the sunlight spilling through the curtains, then stilled—one of the voices was his father's, deep and familiar, but the other…softer, edged with a laugh he hadn't heard in weeks—teasing, familiar.
"Uncle Jeff?" he whispered to himself, already sitting up.
Padding across the room, he splashed water on his face and ruffled his hair into some semblance of order before tiptoeing downstairs.
The scent of freshly brewed coffee and toasted bread met him halfway.
From the kitchen doorway, he spotted them—his dad at the counter, coffee mug in hand, and beside him, Jeff, dressed sharp as always, tie a little crooked, glasses glinting in the morning light.
"Look who finally decided to wake up," Jeff teased, spotting him first. "Morning, champ."
Luca broke into a grin. "Uncle Jeff! You didn't even warn me you were coming."
