“Okay,” I sign and voice. “That’s it. Once the peanut butter ones come out of the oven, we’re done.”
Cole looks up at me with a serious expression, flicking his gaze to one of the cooling racks on the counter.
I laugh. “Yes, we can have one. After all, we need to taste test.”
Lifting him up, I let him choose which cookie he wants, and am not at all surprised when he chooses the double chocolate chip. Handing him a napkin, I set him back on the floor and pick out a cookie for myself—white chocolate craisin—before turning to Sandro. “Want one?”
The former Boss shakes his head. “No, thank you. I’ll start cleaning up here.”
It’s weird watching him be all…domestic, even after spending the afternoon with him. Wrapping my head around the differences between the man who once told me I needed to earn his respect, and then later went on to hurt my friend in the most evil, disrespectful way possible…and the one who is kind, softer, and patient with a traumatized preschooler, is…confusing.
He’s trying, though; I can see that. And it makes me want to try too. Because I love Lio, and I want him to be happy, and for some reason, Sandro makes him happy, so…baking with him and Cole it is.
When the last batch of cookies comes out of the oven, I help with the clean up, trying to get Cole involved. Though he seems to disappear into himself the longer he’s away from his parents. Which…I don’t blame him. I was much older than he was when I was kidnapped for the first time, and I didn’t want to be away from my fathers either. I slept in their bed for weeks afterwards, only to migrate to sleeping with Leandro because the nightmares didn’t stop and I didn’t want to be alone. I also didn’t want to be an inconvenience to my parents.
Loading the cookie sheets into the industrial-sized dishwasher, I turn to find Cole at my side, my heart breaking when he looks up at me and signs Daddy. That was one of the first ones I taught him when Keegan dropped him off, and while part of me is pleased he’s using it to communicate his needs, I hate that he feels he can’t use his words to do the same.
“Don’t worry,” I tell him. “Daddy and Papa will be here as soon as their meeting is over, then we can ask if we can have more cookies.”
“Daddy,” he signs again.
I bite my lip, unsure how to approach the topic of his other Daddy. “He’s resting,” I finally settle on. “It’s okay. Your otherDaddies are still here, and he’ll be up again soon.” I hope I’m not lying to the kid, but what else am I supposed to say?
It’s not like I can tell him the truth.
Thankfully, I’m saved by Keegan and Carter walking into the kitchen. I can see the stress on both their faces, and guilt churns in my stomach for making them face the therapists alone. But I…I just…couldn’t. Not only would it be awkward as fuck because they’re supposed to be coming in to help people, myself included, but after the hell I went through with the first person that was brought in…no way was I comfortable sitting in a room with three of them.
But that means all the responsibility fell on Carter’s shoulders, and that hurts me, forcing the feelings of inadequacy and failure to rise to the surface once more.
When Cole sees his dads, he runs to them. Keegan scoops him up easily, his features softening. “Did you have fun with Roman and Uncle Sandro?”
Cole nods, then lifts his hand and nods his fist as well. I grin, happy to see he picked up on my signs.
“We had lots of fun,” I say, earning Keegan and Carter’s attention. “Cole and Sandro were the best sous chefs.” I gesture to the counters. “Want a cookie?”
Keegan looks at me with suspicion. “How many have you two had already?”
I drop my mouth open in shock. “Excuse me, we are innocent!”
Carter laughs and reaches out, wiping his thumb across Cole’s cheek. “Sure…innocent people just naturally have chocolate on their faces.”
Oops.
“Thanks for watching him,” Keegan says.
“Of course. Whatever you need,” Sandro says with sincerity.
Neither Carter nor Keegan seem to know what to do with this version of Allesandro, but then, no one except Lio…and maybe Tennant, does, so it’s fine. Sandro doesn’t seem too bothered. Hell, the way he acts sometimes, it’s like he expects flat-out rejection at any moment, and that…makes me sad for some reason.
“I had fun,” I tell them. “Anytime you need a babysitter, let me know. I would love to spend more time with my new brother.”
Dad smiles at me. “Thanks, Roman.” He hesitates for a moment before signing, “You think the ASL is making a difference?”
“Yes. He already picked up‘daddy’and‘yes’.You’ll need to talk to Javi and his therapist, of course, but I don’t see what harm it could bring? In my mind, rather than putting pressure on him to use his words, there are other options.” I shrug. “They might think differently, but it felt right to me.”
“Thank you. We’ll talk to Javi about it. Hopefully, we can get the child psychologist in here soon.”
I don’t want to ask, but I know I need to. “Good meeting then?”
