My son points at his closed eyes. “And I’m warm.”
“Good night, buddy.”
“Good night,” he replies.
Nero leaves the room and closes the door, meeting me in the hallway.
The look we share needs no words. Every feeling vibrating in his chest is written plainly in his eyes: warmth, pride, love. For my son. For our son.
And in the snap of a finger, I’m transported back to a time when everything was easy—when everything was simple. And just for this brief moment, I allow myself to miss it.
CHAPTER 64
NINA MARCHESI
“Mom,” Kael calls, coming down the stairs with his piggy bank in his hands. I lift my head from the bills and invoices I was adding up and focus on my son.
“Yes, love,” I answer when he stops in front of me, hugging his little treasure. Kael bites his lip in a display of shyness that’s unusual for him. My son isn’t an introverted child—quite the opposite. I’d even say he’s a bittoooutgoing—so his lowered head and flushed cheeks capture all my attention. “What is it, sweetheart?” I ask, and he lifts his head.
Kael sets his piggy bank on the table in front of me before speaking.
“Can you see how much I have?” he asks. “I want to know if it’s enough to invite more people to my birthday dinner besides you and Grandma.”
I blink. Even though Kael has been talking about his birthday with his dad and uncles for weeks now, this still catches me completely off guard.
On his birthday, we go out to dinner. It’s the only day of the entire year we do that, because paying for a restaurant dinner for three people isn’t a luxury we can afford often—even if one of those people is a child who eats very little compared to an adult.
Kael is a curious child. He likes discovering places, people, and things. He asks about everything, wants to touch everything, wants experiences and more experiences all the time. Since he became aware of the spaces around him, every morning he’s asked about a restaurant downtown.
We pass it on the way to his daycare, and after a lot of insisting, I promised we’d go there on his birthday. He had no idea what that really meant, but once he understood the concept of a restaurant, he immediately asked if we could do it again the following year.
I explained that I didn’t know, but if we had the money, of course we would. Since then, he’s been saving coins, saying it was so we could go to the restaurant on his birthday. Of course, his savings wouldn’t be enough to cover even the appetizers—but he tried so hard and waited so long that I would never tell him no.
I’ve been juggling finances for two months to make sure we have enough for his birthday dinner in three days. And now the idea of inviting four more people completely blindsides me.
First, because even though I already knew that after almost two months with Kael, Nero and his friends had become anintegral part of my son’s life—and second, because paying for four additional people is going to be… complicated. But who said I have the courage to tell Kael that? What mother would? I can pick up more extra shifts in the coming weeks. I solve the problem in my own head.
“Of course I’ll check, love,” I say, picking up the piggy bank. I turn it upside down and remove the cap underneath.
I pour the contents onto the table, and a considerable number of coins spill out. I look at Kael, and the proud expression on his face makes me laugh. I count coin by coin and reach fifty-eight euros. My eyebrows lift in surprise.
How did Kael manage to save that much? This is actually enough for him to pay for dinner for my mother, himself, and me. I lean back, thinking, trying to remember if I could have given him that many coins over the last year. And then a thought clicks into place.
“Have your uncles been giving you coins, Kael?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
“Only when I deserve it, Mom,” he answers proudly.
I close my eyes, resisting the urge to bang my head against the table. They areimpossible, damn it.
I could ask what Kael means by “deserve it,” but I’m fairly sure I wouldn’t like the answer, so I let it go and turn to my three-year-old with all the patience in the world—because he isn’t to blame for the stupidity of the adults who’ve entered his life.
“You do have enough to invite more people, sweetheart.”
“I do?” he asks, eyes shining.
“You do.” Kael nods enthusiastically, then that same shy expression returns.
“I want to invite Daddy and my uncles, Mom. Can I?” He asks for permission to say what I already knew he would.
