Jealousy twisted inside Aelius, and he had to look away. He retreated to his own bedroom. He was being ridiculous. There was no sense in being jealous of a child, even if Aelius had never had such a nice bedroom as a child and had been relegated to sleeping on a pallet beneath a kitchen table.
He was not that child anymore. He had a home all his own, a name, a family. A future that was his to mold. He had achieved a great deal, and he could afford to give a little to a child in need.
Crispina entered the bedroom a moment later. She drew to a halt when her gaze found him. “You’re back.” Her voice was wary, uncertain.
“I dined with Catullus. How is the boy?”
“Nearly ate us out of house and home. He will sleep well tonight.” She hesitated. “He is sorry for breaking the vase.”
“I don’t care about the vase.” He crossed the room to take her hands. “Crispina, I’m sorry for how I acted. I was rude, and selfish, and wrong. The boy will stay, for as long as you wish him to.” He wanted to ask what that meant—a week, a month, longer?—but held off.
Her features softened, her fingers twining with his. “What led to this change of heart?”
“Catullus,” he admitted. “He pointed out that I may have been acting so horribly out of jealousy.”
“Jealousy? Of a homeless child abandoned by his family?”
His armband felt heavy on his wrist. “Of a child lifted from hardship and offered all these comforts.”
Chagrin flickered across her face. “I’m sorry. I know I came on too strong, I should have thought…"
“You did exactly as you should have.” He pulled her against him. The warmth of her body soothed the last traces of his bad temper. “I didn’t like fighting with you.”
She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Nor I you.”
“I suppose I owe the boy—Max—an apology as well.”
She nodded. “But that can wait until tomorrow.” She tilted her face up. His arms tightened around her, and he closed his eyes as his mouth met hers.
Crispina woke with Aelius’s naked body curled around hers, as had become their routine of late. She smiled and relaxed into his warmth.
But something was not routine. It itched at her for a moment until she remembered. She jolted upright, the movement jerking Aelius awake.The boy. Max. Here.
Would he have woken already? What did children do in the mornings? He would need to be fed, she was fairly certain of that. She swung her legs out of bed and fetched a dress from her wardrobe.
Aelius stirred with a groan. “It’s early.”
“I want to check on Max.” She threw the dress on and brushed her hair, yanking the comb through the tangles that had arisen overnight.
His eyes opened fully. “I’ll come with you. I should introduce myself properly to our guest.”
Her chest warmed with gratitude that he now accepted Max’s presence. She knew they needed to have another conversation about what the future held: would Max stay permanently? Would they try to find his family? What happened when they divorced? But for now, this was enough.
They went to the door of the spare bedroom. Crispina knocked gently. “Max? Are you awake?”
No response. She pushed the door open gently. “Max?”
The room was empty, the covers on the bed rumpled. She drew in a sharp breath. “Where is he?” Had he run away, disappeared somewhere? Her heart sped up. He had seemed fine last night, but she would never forgive herself if her fight with Aelius had scared the boy into thinking he was not welcome.
“Perhaps he woke early and went to the kitchen to find some food.” Aelius started down the corridor, then paused in front of the door to his mother’s room. He tipped his ear to the door, then beckoned Crispina closer.
She joined him. From inside Gaia’s room, she heard Gaia’s laugh mixed with the sound of Max chattering about something to do with horses. Relief flowed through her.
She tapped on the door. “Gaia? It’s Crispina and Aelius. We were looking for Max.”
“Come in,” Gaia called. “He’s here.”
Crispina eased open the door. Gaia was sitting up in bed with Max beside her. “I hope he’s not bothering you.”
