“Oh, I’m good with my money. Bought thirty dollars of bitcoin back in middle school.”
Her jaw drops. “Good move.”
“Yeah. Got it for the fancy wallet. It’s awesome. Held it too.”
Actually, I’ve bought a lot of equities since then, but it’s best to keep that on the down low. I’m just lucky. I love figuring out what will be big in the future, then turning that research into helping people. Daniela probably heard of some of my foundations. Like…
Well, it doesn’t matter.
“I’m happy for you,” Daniela says.
I grin. “Awesome. Thank you, Daniela. I need a doctor for him too. He got into a car accident, and his mom died. And now…” I hesitate. I don’t want to share my son’s health concerns with everyone. “Well, Enzo says he’s slid from his development achievements. No biggie, everyone wants a break from time to time, but, um, he probably needs to see if there’s anything we can do to support him.”
“You need a pediatric trauma specialist.”
I brighten. “That sounds perfect.”
“I’ll research some names for you and get them back to you after the hockey game. I can add your son as a dependent too. I’ll need his name.”
I hesitate. Shit. I don’t even know. Does he have a middle name? And his birthday? I don’t know.
I take out my phone and text Enzo. The last messages are about me asking why he’s not speaking to me and what happened, and I grimace.
ME: Hey Enz… What’s Luca’s full name and birthday? SSN?
ENZO: Luca Dario Bellanti. February 2nd. I’ll have to get back to you on SSN.
ME: Thanks, Enz. I’m signing him up to be my dependent. Hooking him up with a pediatric trauma specialist too.
ENZO: Really? Thank you!
I give Daniela the details I have, then promise the SSN for later.
“You’re going to be a great dad, Axel.”
“I have a nanny interview in fifteen. Any hiring tips from an expert?”
“Your son will be living with you?”
“Of course.” I bite back a smile. Daniela is brilliant, but sometimes she asks obvious questions. “I’m his father.”
Maybe if Enzo had parents, they would want custody. But Luca’s only relatives are me, Enzo, and my family—once I tell them. We’re going to take good care of him. I’m sure of it.
I hurry to my hotel room before the bus leaves to go to the arena.
I press the Zoom link I sent to Evan’s contact earlier and soon see a smiling middle-aged woman.
“Patricia?”
“Yes.”
“It’s nice to meet you. Evan told me good things about you.”
She brightens. “I used to nanny for Stella when she was younger. He and his former wife were very busy and needed extra help.”
I look down at my list of questions. This is seriously weird. But I have a son, and I need childcare.
“My son is two and a half,” I explain to her. “He recently lost his mother in a car accident. He was in the car with her. She was still alive when they went to the hospital. He’s traumatized. He’s not talking and he, um, is having accidents again. He apparently didn’t before.”
