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I ripped the duvet off of him, then opened the blinds to let the soft early morning sunlight into the room. I turned on all the lights in the room as well, making the bedroom as bright as a courthouse. Michael grumbled quietly but got out of bed without further argument. He hissed at me on his way into the bathroom, and I blew him kisses. He stopped at the bathroom door and then walked to the bedroom door.
“And where do you think you are going?” I asked, confused.
He turned back and rolled his eyes at me. “I can’t go say good morning to my son?”
I rushed after him. It had become our tradition to go into the nursery together every morning. What with preparing for Michael’s first day back at work, I completely forgot. The nursery was just one door away from our room, and Michael was considering tearing down a section of the wall to create a connecting door between the two rooms.
We walked into the nursery together and found Mario still sleeping peacefully in his bed. Just a year old, he was showing signs of being as big as his father. We had changed his crib twice in six months before deciding to get him a bed with an improvised barricade.
Michael stood at the edge of the bed and looked on fondly at Mario. One year later, he still had the same look on his face every time he gazed at his son. I felt a pang of guilt when I thought about how I had almost denied him this joy by eliminating the pregnancy. It seemed like a century ago when I had appeared at Michael’s door in New York, not knowing what to do. I still felt gratitude every day to my friends for pushing me to make that journey.
“He’s so beautiful,” Michael said, putting an arm around my waist. “I feel like the luckiest man in the world to have you both in my life.”
“He is indeed,” I agreed. “I can’t take all the credit for him, though. You pulled your own weight back in Milan.” I winked at him.
Michael laughed a little too loudly, and Mario stirred in bed. I shushed him, and he slapped a hand over his mouth. “Sorry,” he said, not looking apologetic. “Do you think we should wake him up? I would like to carry him before I leave.”
“No,” I said. “Let’s allow Mario to sleep a little. Maybe after you’re done getting ready?”
Michael nodded in agreement, and we tiptoed silently out of the nursery. Michael headed back to our bedroom while I went to the kitchen to finish lunch. I planned to make it a routine to give him home-cooked quality meals as he had resumed work. It seemed like a fair trade for all he would face in the field.
Michael had moved all his business activities from Los Angeles to New York. It had happened throughout the year in little phases until the entire process was completed. While Los Angeles was a little more quiet, I preferred living in New York, and Michael was gracious enough to make the move.
Michael’s house was not the best for raising a child, and Mrs. Gates had said as much. Extensive work was done to convert the high-end bachelor pad into a family home. Michael had time on his hands and was invested in the construction. It gave me a different sort of feeling, watching him carry boards of wood shirtless, his bulging muscles defined by sweat.
I packed up the food and filled a thermos with coffee for him. I stepped out of the kitchen and found him coming downstairs with our baby in his hands. He was a natural father, and Mario enjoyed Michael carrying him.
“Mama!” Mario’s shrill voice rang from the stairs as they descended. He held out his hands, and Michael handed him to me.
He looked impeccable in a dark blue, pin-striped suit. His beauty was unbelievable. I remembered how I had felt the overwhelming urge to draw him the moment I first saw him. I handed him his lunch bag, and he planted a kiss on my lips.
“Don’t spoil the baby,” I teased, returning the kiss.
“Meh,” he said dismissively. “He will be fine.”
The doorbell buzzed before I could reply, so I handed the baby back to Michael. I checked the peephole and found Thale and Ivanna standing on the other side, sharply dressed and ready for the day. I laughed and warned Michael before opening the door. Ivanna stepped in first, hugging me immediately. Thale followed behind her, planting a kiss on both of my cheeks.
“Great, he’s dressed,” Thale said as he walked into the living room. “Grab him.” He and Ivanna walked toward Michael in tandem.
Ivanna took Mario from Michael, and he cooed loudly, laughing as she spun him in the air. She handed Mario to me, then grabbed Michael’s left arm. Together, she and Thale towed Michael to the door.
“Come on, Thale,” Michael pleaded. “Can’t I get one more week?”
“Nope,” Thale said, leading him to the door. “Listen, Michael. I am not built for this. Maybe Ivanna, but not me. We also deserve a one-year break, but guess what? We don’t all get what we want. You’re not getting out of this.”
“I think you’re just lazy, Thale,” Michael responded. He looked at me with puppy eyes, begging me to speak to them. I raised my hand and shook my head, showing him I had no power to save him.
“Exactly, Michael,” Thale replied. “I am lazy. You know it, and Dad knows it. Ivanna and I have kept the Conglomerate profitable, but we would like to hand the reins back to you. Thank you very much.”
Michael turned to Ivanna on his left arm. “You agree with this, too? Come on, Ivanna. What happened to the ambitious young woman I met two years ago?”
She chuckled. “I’m with Thale on this one, Michael, sorry.” Ivanna opened the door and gestured for Michael to step outside.
The entire scene was pure comedy, and I could not help but laugh as they hauled my husband to the hangman’s block. I felt fortunate to be a part of this family and made a silent promise to do everything possible to preserve what we had.
“Come on, guys,” Michael said from the door. “Can I at least kiss my son goodbye?”
“Of course you can!” Thale replied. He beckoned on me to come forward, and I did as instructed. Michael kissed Mario with his two arms restrained, the sight sending me rolling with laughter.
