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The door opened, and Achille stepped out in jeans, a sweatshirt, and a Red Sox ball cap. Aside from his gorgeous face, he looked like a regular guy. Scorching hot, but approachable. That was probably part of his act. His neighbors would never guess the baseball fan next door rubbed elbows with a crime family.
A smile broadened his beautiful face as he strode toward us. He beamed at Jack, who couldn’t get out of his car seat fast enough. I unbuckled him and he jumped down. He wobbled on his feet, and Achille steadied him.
“Hey, kid. How’s it going?”
Jack clung to my arm, staring at him.
Achille touched his back. “You ready to see your new room?”
“Um. Yeah.”
“Come. I’ll take you.” Achille offered his palm, but Jack backed away from him.
I nudged him forward. “It’s okay, sweetie. He’s your daddy.”
Jack hesitated and took Achille’s hand. He turned around, frowning.
I smiled. “Go on. I’m right behind you.”
Achille tugged him along. He made the mistake of helping Jack up the steps, who bristled. “I don’t need help!”
“Jack, be nice to your daddy.”
Jack flew inside the house, and Achille ran after him.
I sighed, slung a guitar strap over my shoulder, and followed them. The interior was a mix of elegance and intimidation. Dark wood, sleek lines, and metallic accents. It screamed Achille Costa. We’d have to do some redecorating.
Jack bounced, pointing to the black-and-white checkered floor. “Wooo! Black is my favorite color!”
“Hey, mine too.” Achille’s palm rested on Jack’s shoulders, corralling him toward the hallway. “What’s your second favorite color?”
“Gray!”
Achille chuckled, looking at me. “Like what you see?”
“It’s nice,” I grumbled before hitching on a smile. “Ain’t it grand, Jack?”
“So pretty. This is the bestest house!”
Achille shepherded Jack into a child’s bedroom. My sister would’ve loved it. A shelf lined one wall, already filled with books. Cute art splashed color on the walls. Toys were organized in neat boxes in the closet. Train-themed bedsheets. Where on earth had he found those?
I gasped, kneeling next to Jack. “Oh my gosh. Look at all these toys! I wonder who lives here? Achille, who is the special boy this belongs to?”
Jack glanced at Achille. “Who?”
Achille smiled. “You.”
Jack gaped at me. “Me?”
“Yes, you. This is your room.”
Jack’s expression lit up. “All…mine?”
“All yours, buddy,” Achille said, softer than I’d ever heard it. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got a bit of everything.”
I took out a box stuffed to the brim with train tracks. Jack shrieked. His delight bounced off the walls as he rifled through it, chattering a mile a minute.
I held his arm gently. “What do we say for all the toys your daddy bought you?”
