My eyes narrow and my mouth falls open as I finally understand the gossip my son is innocently relaying.
“Sothat’swhy you’ve been so eager to take Kael to daycare and pick him up these past few weeks?” I ask, unable to contain my indignation. “To parade my son around?” My tone is razor-sharp, and I think it’s deserved.
Nero, however, doesn’t flinch.
He raises an eyebrow at me before stepping closer, still holding Kael against his hip, and presses us together—sandwiching the boy between father and mother. Kael loves it, stretching his arms out and looping one around my neck and the other around his father’s.
“Hi, Nina,” Nero greets me, leaning in and placing an unnecessarily slow kiss on my cheek. The heat of his lips against my skin warms my entire body, and only when he pulls away do I realize I’ve been holding my breath. “I’ve been making a point of taking our son to daycare so his mother can rest a little more—because I know she comes home exhausted from night shifts. Now she can just sleep, without worrying about it.”
I roll my eyes, dismissing his perfectly rational—but deeply unsatisfying—explanation.
“And did you know, Mom, that Dad doesn’t have a girlfriend?” Kael pipes up again, and this time my reaction to the kind of conversations he’s been exposed to is physical.
My nostrils flare as I inhale sharply. Standing this close, it’s impossible not to notice the little smile on Nero’s face—and that only makes me angrier.
“Is that so, sweetheart?” I answer, because I can’t leave my son without a response.
“It is,” he confirms. “Dad told Giovanna’s mom that he doesn’t have a girlfriend, Mom, because he’s married.”
Kael finishes his thought, and Nero’s eyebrow lifts again—this time with blatant provocation. I roll my eyes once more.
“Very well. It’s time for you to go tidy your room. Then we’re taking a bath and having lunch.”
“Another bath?” he whines, making me laugh like he always does. This will make for such embarrassingly funny stories when he’s older…
“Yes. Another bath.”
“All right,” Kael agrees, shoulders slumped in an attempt to win my sympathy.
Nero sets him down, and he heads for the stairs.
“Does he like pools? Or is his problem just bathtubs and showers?” his father asks once our son is out of earshot.
“He’s never been to one,” I answer honestly, and Nero’s face slowly loses its relaxed expression. “He’s never seen the sea either.”
Nero nods, thoughtful.
“He only knows bathwater—in tubs or showers.”
He doesn’t respond, so I head into the kitchen, starting to organize lunch. A few minutes later, Nero follows me.
“And you?” he asks. “Do you have a boyfriend? Or is your heart available to be conquered?”
I turn, leaning my hips against the kitchen counter and huff.
“Can’t you see? The hordes of men lining up at my door?”
“No,” he says. “I never look back—and we both know I’m first in line.”
A snort of disdain escapes me, and I plant my hands on his chest, giving him a light shove to push him out of the kitchen.
He doesn’t let me stop touching him, though. Instead, he takes my hands and sits on the stool opposite the counter, leaving me standing between his legs.
“Stop talking nonsense. I have something serious to discuss,” I warn him, and he smiles.
“I’m all ears. And everything else you want too…” Nero says with a mischievous grin, slowly leaning his face toward mine.
I freeze—knowing exactly what I expect, and not knowing what to expect at all.
