He turns away and shows Luca the rest of the apartment.
“So like I said, I, uh, only have three bedrooms,” Axel tells me awkwardly. “I have some bedding here. I thought Luca would take one guest room and Nanny Patricia would take the other.”
“That makes sense,” I say brightly.
“It does make sense, but I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry. This is temporary.”
“Sometimes units become available in this building,” Axel says.
“I’m not just leaving Luca with you,” I say grumpily.
I hesitate.
I probably offended him. Axel is Luca’s dad, and the law doesn’t require him to put me up. I grab the bedding. It’s cold and stiff in my hands, still wrapped in plastic.
“I’ll put Luca to bed,” I say.
“I’ll help.”
“It’s not necessary.”
Axel’s face falls, but he nods. “Sure. Call me if you need me.”
Axel crouches beside Luca, says goodnight in a voice so gentle it doesn’t sound like him at all. Then the door clicks shut behind him, and I’m alone with my nephew and the stars on the ceiling and the ache in my chest that won’t go away.
Axel
Voices sound from the kitchen, and I throw on the robe I got for a Christmas present one year, then go out to join them.
“Good morning!” I exclaim.
Enzo and Luca glance at me shyly.
That’s fine.
“Did you sleep okay?” I ask.
Enzo nods, but the circles under his eyes have deepened overnight. I want to tell him to go back to bed, but the apartment is open-plan style, and Enzo’s bed is just a few feet away from the kitchen.
I want to tell him to take my bed, but the offer sticks in my throat.
I hate the strange formality between us.
It’s weird.
“Did you find things you like for breakfast?”
“Yes.”
I glance at his bowl. “You don’t like oatmeal.”
“It’s okay.”
Luca is also eating oatmeal, which makes sense because he’s two and because he’s my son and I think oatmeal is fuckingawesome. Enzo doesn’t though, even though he’s managed to eat half a bowl. I shake my head.
I go to the fridge and remove the eggs and the meat I had delivered yesterday. “Everything in the fridge is yours.”
