"Yeah," Peter says, peeling himself away from Tony's shoulder. He looks away for a second, runs the back of his hand over his eyes again, then reaches for a tissue.

Where does he even start? He's not even sure.

"My dad and I, we used to cook together on Sundays," he says. "It was always Italian. Ben and May would come over and all of us, we'd eat together. I'd play with my LEGOs while the adults had coffee but sometimes Ben would sit with me and we'd build something together."