If Cin tries to leave, I’ll drag her back—kicking and screaming if I have to.
“Mom is supposed to stop by for a few hours tomorrow.” Now here comes the hard part. “Mason,” I say, gently. “Can you be a big boy for me?”
“Yes,” he says resolutely.
“I need to say this, to prepare you. Okay?”
He nods in understanding. The vulnerability in his eyes is killing me, and I hate I’m the cause of it.
“Sometimes things don’t go the way you expect them to. I’m telling you this because there’s a chance Mom may not show up tomorrow.”
Tears spill down his chubby cheeks. I pull him onto my lap, offering comfort. It had to be said to set the expectation.
Mason insisted we wait outside for our mother to arrive. He watches the gate eagerly while I sit on the top step, leaning back against a pillar, reveling in his excitement. Unfortunately, thejubilance is short lived as more time passes and there’s no sign of her. Uneasiness overcomes me, so I send her a text message.
Me: Where the hell are you?
By seven-fifteen, I know she’s not coming. Damn Cin for talking me into giving that bitch a chance. I should’ve listened to my gut instinct. A tiger cannot change its stripes.
“How about we go inside and play a game?”
He shakes his head. “I want to wait out here.”
“Sometimes things don’t go the way you expect them to, remember?”
“Can you call Mommy?” he asks, refusing to accept the inevitable.
“She’s not coming.” There’s no point in sugarcoating the truth.
“Maybe she’s lost.” He turns wide, sad eyes on me. “Call her.”
“Okay,” I concede, even though it won’t make a difference. The call goes straight to voicemail.
“She didn’t answer.” It hurts to deliver the devastating news to him. “Let’s go back inside.” I stand, reaching for his hand.
“No!” he yells, racing down the stone driveway.
I run after him, easily catching up and lifting him into my arms.
“I’m so sorry, buddy.”
“What’s wrong with me?” He peers at me with sorrowful eyes. “If you tell her how helpful I am, she’ll come.”
His skinny arms encircle my neck as he cries his heart out. I carry him inside, shedding tears with him.
I finish my shower, grateful Art had a rainfall shower head installed in every bathroom in the house. My cell phone starts ringing as I step into my bedroom. It’s probably Anneli. I’ll give her a call once I’m done getting dressed. The ringing ends, then starts again in the next second. This better be important. I walk to the dresser and glance at the screen and see Art’s name flash across it. He shouldn’t be here for at least another hour and a half. I get up early enough to cook Mom and Sebastian breakfast before we walk him to school.
I press the speaker icon. “Hey.”
“Mason is gone,” Art says in a panic-stricken voice.
“What?” Those words cause immediate distress.
“I searched everywhere. He isn’t here.”
“Could he be hiding somewhere?”
There are many places Mason could conceal himself inside the mansion.
