A M A L I A
It is strangely easy to take Remi's hand in hers, especially considering how little physical contact she had felt from people in the past years. Unlike the boy, she was never starved for affection- at least, not in her childhood, the time when her grandmother was still alive. It was only after her Nani's death that the young baker grew isolated, frozen out by a frigid mother, too awkward and undeserving to try to make new friends.
So much has changed. Now she grasps at Remi easily, guiding him gently into the bakery, to the same seat he had once sat upon with Aoife. "I'm sorry." For everything. Almost instinctively she reaches out, using a gentle hand to clear some wayward hair from his face. "I know it will take time, but I still want to be better about it. You deserve that much, at least."
Stepping away, Amalia goes to gather up supplies, humming softly as she works. "Any preferences? I have bread," she calls laughingly back to him. "And, ah, look at this! More bread."
