“Exactly. Three. Where did you get the idea you want four this year?”
“Because when I was three, three was good.”
“But when you were two, you also got three.”
“I don’t remember, so it doesn’t count,” he decides.
Despite the turmoil in my chest, I still laugh at my son’s cleverness.
Of course he wouldn’t wait for me to decide it was safe to call Nero his father. My son has always been too smart for my sanity—almost four years old and often seeming twice that. Whether that’s personality or a product of our life, I don’t know.
“Why are you crying, Dad?” he asks, ignoring my attempt to distract him.
“I’m not crying,” Nero says, even though his face tells a very different story. “Something got in my eye.”
Kael climbs down from his chair immediately, walks over to Nero, and clamber into his lap.
“Let me blow on it for you.”
It should have been a request—but the way he treats Nero exactly like he treats my mother and me makes it sound like a command.
I expect Nero to freeze, startled by the sudden closeness, unsure what to do—but he wraps his arms around Kael and looks at him with so much love, so much devotion, that a lump forms in my throat.
I remember that look. I remember how it made me feel.
“Which one?” my son asks.
“The right,” Nero answers.
“Mom, which is the right?” Kael turns to me, inviting me into the moment I was watching—both joyful and terrified.
“The one on the same side as the hand you use to hold your pencil.”
He doesn’t answer. He lifts his little right hand to Nero’s eye, pries it open with his thumb and forefinger, blows with all the strength he has, then lowers the eyelid and kisses it.
I look away, hiding my own tear, knowing that no matter what happens from here on out, nothing will ever be the same again.
When my gaze returns to Nero’s a moment later, something passes between us—silent, and yet loud and clear.
Thank you,he says.
Thank you so much.
CHAPTER 58
ATLAS XPANOS
“I should’ve bought toys,” Drako grumbles as we sneak out of the empty house, the three of us carrying grocery bags. Normally, I’d be the sensible one—telling my brother and Drako that if Nero told us not to do something, we shouldn’t do it. But considering that thesomethingin question is visiting Kael while Nero went to city hall, I don’t think Nero’s request carries much weight. So, in a rare moment, I sided with Apollo and Drako. “How am I supposed to become the favorite uncle if I don’t show up with gifts?”
“I think it’s cute that you think you even have a chance at being the favorite uncle,” Apollo says smugly.
“And I think it’s good you’ve already come to terms with what you’ll be—uncles, favorite or not—because I’m the godfather,” I inform them. Both faces snap in my direction, offended.
“Who said?” Drako demands. “Nero and Nina haven’t chosen yet!”
“We chose,” I help their selective memories along.
“I don’t remember,” Apollo declares, facing forward again.
