“Go on.” I motion at the box. “Open it.”
He wiggles off the lid, and then his mouth drops open. “Soccer shoes!”
I take one out of the box. “We can exchange them if they don’t fit.”
“Can I try them on?” He bounces like a monkey, swinging his arms backward and forward. “Please?”
I pat the sofa. “Sit down.”
He scrambles to obey.
“Do you know how to tie laces?”
Lifting his leg, he shows me his sneaker. “These work with Velcro.”
“It’s easy.” I crouch down in front of him. “I’ll teach you.”
The floorboards creak behind me.
When I look over my shoulder, Tatiana is walking from the room, her back straight and that sway in her hips present.
For now, I focus on Noah. We spend a few minutes practicing how to tie his laces. I use the bunny ear method my father taught me.
Noah walks up and down the hallway to assure me the shoes don’t pinch his toes or chafe his heels, and then he runs outside with the ball, eager to show the men his gifts.
I use the opportunity to go after Tatiana. I find her in the basement, taking towels from the dryer. She folds them into a basket without acknowledging me.
Stopping at her back, I try to get a read on her.
“That was sweet.” She hooks a tendril of hair behind her ear. “What you did for Noah.”
I cup her waist and turn her around. “If that’s so sweet, why do you look like you’re attending a funeral?”
She dodges me, twisting out of my hold. “Deceiving me is one thing, but if you break Noah’s heart, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”
I contemplate the sudden change in her attitude. “I thought you didn’t want me around him at all. You told me in not so many words and on more than one occasion that he’s not my son.”
She leans her palms on the dryer behind her. “You’re not going to listen, are you?”
“No.”
“So there’s no point in fighting the inevitable.” She hesitates. “And Noah needs you.”
To admit that obviously hurts her. It’s evident in the unshed tears that glisten in her hauntingly beautiful eyes.
I cup her cheek. “He’ll always need you too.”
She pushes my hand away. “This isn’t about me.” She continues in a forceful tone. “It’s about Noah, Dante.”
“I’ll never hurt him intentionally.”
“Please, don’t.” It almost sounds like begging, which is very unlike her. “He won’t understand.”
“I already said I won’t.”
A beat passes while she scrutinizes me. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was scraping together her courage to ask me for something.
“What do you want, Tatiana?”
