Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
“To a different city.”
“A big one with smelly streets and broken windows?”
It bugs me that he knows that part of a city, but my smile stays in place. “Kind of. I brought you back something.”
He drags in a breath. “You did?”
“It’s in the car.” I hold out a hand. “Shall we go get it?”
He wraps his tiny fingers around mine. It’s one of those moments where I experience emotions intensely, where warmth spreads through my chest, and I want to burn the memory into my mind so that I can revisit it forever.
We get the bag from the back of the car. When we reenter through the front door, Tatiana comes down the hallway, wearing her signature long-sleeved T-shirt and leggings. Her hair falls in wild curls around her shoulders.
At the sight of me, she stiffens. “You’re back.”
“Missed me?”
She scoffs.
“Mommy!” Noah takes the bag from me and runs to her. “Dante brought me a present.”
She studies me with a strange expression I can’t place, something between sadness and acceptance.
“That’s kind of him,” she says with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
He jumps up and down. “Can I open it now, Dante?”
“It’s not wrapped, but yes, you can take it out now.”
He sprints to the lounge and shakes the contents out on the sofa.
Chuckling, I follow him.
“Oh, wow!” He grabs the soccer ball and shows it to Tatiana, who reluctantly comes closer. “Look, Mommy! A real soccer ball!”
“That’s so you can practice those kicks.”
He drops the ball and holds up the soccer T-shirt and shorts. “And a real soccer shirt too.”
“I hope it’s your team.”
He frowns. “I don’t have a team.”
“That’s all right. You’ve only just started to play. You have time to decide who you want to support. We can watch a few games together to help you make up your mind.”
He squeals. “Really?”
“What did I say about never lying to you?”
Wrapping his arms around my legs, he hugs me as if his life depends on it. “Thank you, Dante.”
I catch Tatiana’s gaze where she hovers a short distance away. Even as tenderness softens her green eyes, they glimmer with the unbearable grief of loss, almost as if I’ve stuck my fist into her chest and ripped out her heart.
“Thank you,” Noah says again.
I force my attention back to him. “You’re welcome, buddy. But you left something in the bag.”
He gasps. “There’s more?” Grabbing the bag, he shakes it with all his might until the shoebox falls out.
He frowns at me.
“Go on.” I motion at the box. “Open it.”
He wiggles off the lid, and then his mouth drops open. “Soccer shoes!”
I take one out of the box. “We can exchange them if they don’t fit.”
“Can I try them on?” He bounces like a monkey, swinging his arms backward and forward. “Please?”
I pat the sofa. “Sit down.”
He scrambles to obey.
“Do you know how to tie laces?”
Lifting his leg, he shows me his sneaker. “These work with Velcro.”
“It’s easy.” I crouch down in front of him. “I’ll teach you.”
The floorboards creak behind me.
When I look over my shoulder, Tatiana is walking from the room, her back straight and that sway in her hips present.
For now, I focus on Noah. We spend a few minutes practicing how to tie his laces. I use the bunny ear method my father taught me.
Noah walks up and down the hallway to assure me the shoes don’t pinch his toes or chafe his heels, and then he runs outside with the ball, eager to show the men his gifts.
I use the opportunity to go after Tatiana. I find her in the basement, taking towels from the dryer. She folds them into a basket without acknowledging me.
Stopping at her back, I try to get a read on her.
“That was sweet.” She hooks a tendril of hair behind her ear. “What you did for Noah.”
I cup her waist and turn her around. “If that’s so sweet, why do you look like you’re attending a funeral?”
She dodges me, twisting out of my hold. “Deceiving me is one thing, but if you break Noah’s heart, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”
I contemplate the sudden change in her attitude. “I thought you didn’t want me around him at all. You told me in not so many words and on more than one occasion that he’s not my son.”
She leans her palms on the dryer behind her. “You’re not going to listen, are you?”
“No.”
“So there’s no point in fighting the inevitable.” She hesitates. “And Noah needs you.”
To admit that obviously hurts her. It’s evident in the unshed tears that glisten in her hauntingly beautiful eyes.
I cup her cheek. “He’ll always need you too.”
She pushes my hand away. “This isn’t about me.” She continues in a forceful tone. “It’s about Noah, Dante.”
“I’ll never hurt him intentionally.”
“Please, don’t.” It almost sounds like begging, which is very unlike her. “He won’t understand.”