“When we return to Boston, you and Luca are moving in with me,” I say.
Enzo shakes his head. “He needs a nanny.”
“Then I’ll hire a nanny.” I inhale. “A real one. Like Mary Poppins. Someone who lives with us and is not rotating and actually pays attention.”
Enzo’s cheeks pinken. He shakes his head. “I-I can’t move in with you.”
“Dude, we already lived together. In a way smaller place.”
He grimaces. Concord University was nice, but they built those dorms decades ago. Our room had definitely been former servants’ quarters, back when rich students brought people from home to press their clothes and do their laundry.
“What else do you need?” I ask. “What does Luca need?” I lean closer to him. “Is he always quiet?”
Enzo’s shoulders slump. “He used to speak. He did. But he hasn’t said anything since Gaby died.”
“Jesus.”
“The doctors said it was shock, and that he would speak in a few days… But he hasn’t, Axel. He hasn’t spoken at all. And now he’s been wetting his pants too, even though he was potty trained?—”
The elevator opens. Finn and Noah exit. They give us a strange look.
I move closer to Enzo.
“Has he seen a doctor here?”
“Not yet.”
“On it,” I say. “Doctor and a nanny. Easy-peasy.”
“But—”
I square my shoulders. “He’s my son.”
His face reddens. “I’m not leaving him with you.”
“That’s why you’re moving in too. You’re not living in a hotel with my child.”
“I’m giving him a good situation! And I will find a better situation for him.”
“So call it temporary.” I blink. “I mean, it will be temporary. Obviously. I just should get to know him.”
“If you’re certain.”
I’m not certain.
Of course I’m not certain.
I just found out I have a child.
But children were always something I assumed I would have at some point. I thought that they would come after I retired, when I ended up with some mysterious woman. I’ve had girlfriends off and on, but I traveled a lot, and none of them lasted. I’m nerdier than the women who hang out in sports bars. Besides, I always had Enzo whenever I wanted a serious conversation.
At least, I used to have him.
Enzo watches me, worried. The shadows under his eyes are brutal. And that’s after he slept on my lap for four hours today.
“Move in with me,” I repeat.
“But—”
