It’s a bit late to ask for my approval when he’s already made Noah excited by telling him he could have one.
“Can I?” Noah’s eyes grow to the size of saucers. “Please, Mommy? Please?”
“Your—” I don’t know why I can’t say it. Maybe it feels too intimate, too much like a real family. “Dante and I will talk about it, sweetheart.”
Noah turns a serious expression on Dante. “Mommy said I couldn’t have a dog because we were moving too much, and we couldn’t afford to buy it food.” Noah focuses on me, his question hopeful. “But we’re not moving again, are we?” He adds in rapid-fire succession, “And Jazz says there’s enough food in the fridge to feed an army.”
The uncertainty on his little face is like a spear through my heart.
Dante chuckles. “If we’re moving anywhere, we’re all going together. We can definitely afford adoption, food, and proper veterinary care. But like your mother said, we’ll discuss it first.”
“Please, Daddy.” Noah gives him one of his innocent smiles. “I really want a dog.”
And if Dante said he’ll get one, he will, no matter what I say. Not that I’ll object. I’ve always wanted that for Noah. After Leander ran over my cat, I was too scared to have more pets. I didn’t want another animal to suffer the same fate. I always envied my friends who had dogs and cats.
“Do you know how to care for one?” Dante asks.
Noah shakes his head.
“Then you’ve got a lot to learn first. Maybe you should make a drawing of everything you think a dog may need.”
Clutching a crayon in his hand, Noah scratches his head. “A bowl for food and a ball to play with.”
Dante puts a hand on his shoulder. “And a leash to walk on and a bed to sleep in.”
“And a bowl for water,” Noah adds excitedly.
“You’ve got your work cut out for you.”
Noah pulls a clean sheet of paper closer. He starts drawing with enthusiasm while Dante watches.
Not looking up from Noah’s drawing, Dante asks, “Where’s Jazz?”
I add a pinch of oregano to the sauce. “She’s taking a nap.”
“Let’s go for a drive.”
He says that too casually.
I switch off the plate and wipe my hands on the apron tied around my waist. “Why?”
He takes in the nervous action, following my movements with his gaze. “I’m taking you to the condo.”
My heart slams to a stop. Miraculously, I manage to keep my voice even. “Why?”
Leaning against the table next to Noah, he shoves his hands in his pockets and crosses his ankles. “I’m sure you’d like to grab a few of your personal belongings. All your clothes are still there.” His gaze drills into mine, pinning me in place. “I haven’t touched a thing.”
My pulse accelerates. “I don’t need my old clothes.”
He raises a brow. “Not even your jewelry or make-up? That metal case in which you kept your war paints and brushes must’ve weighed a ton.” His lips quirk. “If I remember correctly, you were inseparable from that trunk.”
The fact that he remembers that makes my cheeks heat. That my make-up had once been the most important thing in my life sounds so juvenile now.
I sometimes think about those times when my worst worry was deciding what to wear in the morning, especially when I’d secretly meet Dante.
Sometimes, when the doorman had gone off duty, I’d open the door to the street and sneak Dante into my bedroom. I knew where the cameras and the blind spots were. We’d make out in the darkness of my room, high on desire and nerves that my mom or dad would hear us. The forbidden aspect of our relationship amplified each emotion and every touch. We were like Romeo and Juliet, or that’s what I liked to think.
Dante often made me come. He spread my legs and buried his head between them while clamping a hand over my mouth so my parents wouldn’t hear my screams. He’d feel his way along my body, getting to know all my sensitive spots in the darkness. We didn’t dare switch on the light. I was supposed to be asleep, and Mom often got up for a drink of water in the night.
