Ted chuckles. “Ulysses is somewhat of a national champion. And what Reino didn’t tell you is that he’s got an Olympic gold medal for freestyle skiing. So you see, even the pros have accidents.”
Noah looks between them. “Really?”
With all the men trying to make him feel better, he’s already smiling again. My little boy has never been the center of so much attention.
Dante brushes a curl from Noah’s sweaty forehead. “Falling is nothing. Like the guys told you, it happens to even the best sportsmen. The important thing is to get up and finish the game.” He locks his hands around Noah’s waist and lowers him to his feet. “How about we get that cleaned up so it doesn’t get infected? You wouldn’t want to sit out on the next practice game because it hasn’t healed properly.”
I don’t miss how Dante often poses a question at Noah, giving him a choice instead of an order. It’s a clever strategy. Allowing Noah to buy into the decision won’t make him feel as if Dante is forcing it on him.
“Come.” I hold out my hand. “Let’s go wash up in the bathroom so we can disinfect those scrapes. I have Spiderman band-aids in my bag.”
For once, Noah takes my hand.
I avoid Dante’s gaze as we leave the kitchen. I don’t want him to see how close I came to giving in or how much I hate myself for that weakness.
Chapter
Six
Dante
* * *
The restaurant Tatiana chose for dinner has a cowboy theme. We shift into a booth with a rustic table and padded benches covered in vinyl. Noah sits between Tatiana and me. Jasper is squeezed in next to Reino opposite us. Ulysses and Kent are on door duty.
Tatiana doesn’t have to fish for scrap paper from her bag because the placemats are big sheets of paper with black outlines of cowboys and horses for coloring. A container with crayons is placed on every table.
Noah’s eyes sparkle as he looks at his mother. “Is it my birthday?”
Tatiana laughs a soft, affectionate, sad kind of laugh and cups his cheeks between her palms. “No, sweetheart. Your birthday is in December.”
I don’t need to ask to know that coming here was an annual occurrence saved only for a very special occasion.
“On the sixth,” he announces with pride.
She kisses his forehead before letting him go. “That’s right.”
Like everything else I could dig up about my son, his birthday is imprinted in my mind. I’m yet to find out why there’s no hospital record of his birth. Yesterday, I ran a check on Tatiana’s false name but found nothing other than a birth certificate for Noah Delacy. That will change. Soon. My son will take my surname and get the recognition he deserves.
Noah looks around and asks in a whisper, “Then why are we here?”
Tatiana’s smile doesn’t falter, but her manner becomes a little stiff. “Dante invited us.”
“My treat,” I cut in.
Noah turns his face to me. “Is it your birthday?” He sucks in a breath. “We didn’t get you a present.” Perking up, he says with enthusiasm, “I’ll draw you a picture, Dante. You can put it on your wall.”
Unfamiliar emotions tighten my throat. “I’d like that, but we’re not here to celebrate my birthday.”
He tilts his head, studying me with big, innocent eyes. “What are we celebrating?”
I smile through the knot into which my vocal cords seem to have been tied. The eighteen dollar-special on the menu is less than the tip I normally leave for the waiter. I’ve never had to look at the price on a menu. In most of the establishments where I dine, the menu doesn’t even come with prices. I just order whatever I feel like eating.
Eating out is more a necessity than a treat for me. I travel often, and I don’t have time to cook. And if I’m celebrating, it’s with oysters and champagne.
But I don’t tell Noah that. He doesn’t know he’s been deprived for all of his short life while I’ve been living in luxury, and making him aware of the fact will only be cruel. If coming here is a celebration for Noah, then I’ll make it a fucking celebration. There’s nothing I won’t do for him.
When he continues to stare at me, I settle on the first excuse that pops into my head. “You and your mom are coming to live with me.”
