His brows shot up to his hairline. “Piano?”
I nod slowly. “Is that okay? It’s a Steinway Boston upright.”
Now his eyes bug out, and his jaw drops. “Oh, wow.”
Well, now I feel stupidly proud that I got that right. “I can’t invest in a baby grand at the moment. They’re more expensive than my car.” I chuckle and wink at him. He doesn’t smile back, but his eyes brighten.
“I thought we could put it in the living room.”
“You won’t get annoyed?”
“Do people get annoyed with your music?”
He shakes his head and takes another bite of cereal, a dribble of milk spilling down his chin, which he wipes away with a napkin.
“No, it won’t annoy me.” It may very well annoy me, only because I’m used to living alone in a quiet house, but I want Braeden to be comfortable here. I want this to be his home as much as it’s mine. “You didn’t answer my question about your other instruments.”
Seriously, I should be excited he’s even talking to me at this point.
“Oh, yeah, I have my flute, but I didn’t bring my guitar. That lawyer guy said they’ll sell all the stuff in the house and put it in a trust for me since my… T-they didn’t leave anything specific for me in their… will.”
“I get it,” I say quickly. “We’ll get you a new guitar, too, okay?”
“Okay.”
He goes back to eating his cereal and scrolling while I give myself a pat on the back that he uttered more than two words to me.
“Say, let’s get out of the house today. Get some fresh air. We can go to the park, toss the ball around, or see a movie. Whatever you want.”
Braeden shrugs non-committedly. “I’m not a… sports guy.”
“That’s okay. How about a movie then? I’ll even take you out to lunch.”
“Don’t you have to work or something?”
“I’ve taken some time off. Since the business is mine, I can work wherever.”
“Can we see that action movie with Tom Hardy?”
“Sure, kiddo. As long as it’s not rated R.”
Wow, he said more than ten words to me this morning. It’s about time. This isn’t so bad, right? I can do this. I can adapt and take care of Braeden. My friends would be proud if they were still here, maybe.
Before we can continue our talk, my phone vibrates with a call. Assuming it’s for work, I pick it up and see it’s my mother calling instead. Fuck my life. Just when I’m perking up, she calls right on time to bring me back down.
I’ve been avoiding her like the plague, but I need to tell her about Braeden. I’m assuming social services will be interviewing her about my ability to care for him. Time to suck it up and pray she won’t toss me under the bus. Who knows with her? Some days she’s great, giving you a taste of what good parenting is. Other days, she’s cruel.
“It’s my mom,” I tell Braeden and step into my office for some privacy.
She’s hung up because I haven’t answered her yet, but I know it will only be a few seconds before she tries again.
Five, four, three, two…
“Hey, Mom.”
“You’re avoiding me again.”
I sit my ass down on a club chair in front of my desk and stare at the ceiling. “I’ve been busy.”
