For the rest of dinner, Madison and I worked together like a team, keeping the conversation light, making Sofia laugh despite everything she'd been through. We told stories, shared jokes, created this bubble of warmth and acceptance around her.
But I could see in Sofia's eyes that she didn't quite understand what we meant when we said "family." To her, I was just Peter - the boy from Lincoln Heights who wasn't from old money, probably still wondering when we even got money to buy a mansion, a boy who she'd fallen for despite his lack of social status.
She'd given me her heart and her body, but not because she thought I could solve her problems. She'd chosen me because I saw her as a woman worth loving, not a business asset and I loved her the way she wanted.
Most of the kids in Lincoln Heights, rich or poor, had grown up together and we pretty much went to the same schools. They knew each other's families, their capabilities, their limitations.
