But he remembers. That has to be it. Even if he can’t explain it, even if he never speaks about it, he remembers what that bitch did.
The need to kill her overwhelms me, but I push it down. This isn’t about her. It’s about my son, and he needs me to be calm right now.
By the time I pull into the driveway, I’m already throwing the car into park and rushing up the steps.
Katya meets me at the door, lifting a hand before I can say anything. “He is okay now. Miss Sloane calmed him down. I have never seen anyone do that except you.”
The tension in my chest loosens a fraction. “Where are they?”
“In the den.” She smiles as I slip off my shoes. “He really adores her. She is very good with him.”
I move past her as I head toward them, stopping at the doorway and enjoying the view.
Lev is curled on Sloane’s lap on the sofa, his body tucked against hers, his head resting on her shoulder while she reads to him. One hand holds the book open while the other drifts gently up and down his arm.
She’s such a good mother.
I pinch the bridge of my nose when that thought hits, but I can see it so clearly now: the way it could be.
She peers up when she senses me, and when her eyes meet mine, she grins, a wide and beautiful smile that sets every inch of me on fire. Lev follows her gaze and turns his head.
“Papa!” He pushes himself up and scrambles off her lap.
I’m on my knees before he reaches me, pulling him into my arms and holding him tight.
“Are you enjoying the story?” I kiss his forehead, clasping both hands against his cheeks.
He nods.
“Good.” I brush a hand through his hair. “Why don’t you go read it on the couch? I want to talk to Sloane for a minute.”
He hesitates before returning to the couch, settling down with the book.
Sloane rises, smoothing her hands down the front of her leggings as she saunters toward me, and the more I watch her, the more the image of us as a family starts to feel real.
My heart beats harder as the urge to pull her into my arms and kiss her for what she did, for being exactly what my son needed when I wasn’t here, overwhelms me. And maybe, if I’m being honest…simply for being herself.
I take her hand and guide her with me toward the far corner of the den, away from the sofa and out of Lev’s hearing.
“You’re good with him,” I tell her, my thumb brushing slow circles over the back of her hand.
“He makes it easy.” She gives a small shrug.
I shake my head. “No. He doesn’t. Not with most people.”
Her expression softens, her eyes drifting past me toward the couch where Lev is still sitting before they return to mine.
“I adore him. You know that.” Her gaze drops, and she lets out a heavy breath. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have told him I was leaving. I just needed to run to the store for a few things, but I should’ve waited until you came home.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I tell her, and I mean every word. “I think I know why he reacted like that.”
Concern crosses her face immediately. “Do you want to talk about it? Is it something I could’ve handled differently?”
Dropping her hand, I drag my fingers through my hair, turning away before I face her again.
“His mother left when he was around three.” My attention dips briefly to the floor before lifting again. “After his diagnosis, she decided she didn’t want this life. One day, she told him she was going to the store…” I pause. “And she never came back.”
Her mouth parts. “You’re serious?”
