Page 76 of The Bratva King

I check my watch and remember the schedule that is on our fridge. Irina is off today, but there are meals in the freezer.

“It will be in five minutes,” I tell him.

“Okay.”

We finish the episode and go to the kitchen. He sits at the table with his dinosaur book and the stegosaurus in one of the empty chairs while I check our options.

That’s something else I’ve noticed about Luke. He doesn’t have a tablet. Mila does. I don’t know if she spends a lot of time on it. I don’t know what “a lot” is. I wonder if Luke doesn’t have one because Gabby doesn’t want him to, or if she hasn’t been able to afford one.

I’ll ask.

I choose the meatloaf and mashed potatoes. I remember what Gabby said about mac and cheese. I don’t know if that rule applies to all pasta.

I heat our meal and carry it to the table.

“Do you dish out your own, or should I do it?” I ask him.

“Mom makes me a plate.”

I suspected as much. I give him what I think are adequate portions of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and a little corn.

He doesn’t reach for the fork when I sit down. I try to figure out what I’m missing. I’m not good at guessing. “What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Is it hot?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Shouldn’t be. You have to test it.”

“Mom blows on my food.”

I think about that. Me blowing all over his food. I don’t want anyone blowing on my food. Gabby does it for him because she sees and anticipates his problems. He knows the food is hot.

“Luke, you’re a big boy. Blow on your own food.”

Is that wrong? Shit. I don’t know how to do this.

He frowns and then blows. I blow on my food as well.

Then we eat. Just me and him.

19

Gabby

Kylie left Luke with Nikolai. I’m not sure how I feel about that. She said she could work twelve hours a day if I needed her. When I checked for an update, she told me Nik had him. Nik. Like she knows him.

I should have known they knew each other. Are they fucking? Kylie is pretty. Tall and beautiful and probably knows how to please a man.

I’m annoyed with myself for being so bothered by this.

I clock out, grab my purse, and hurry out to the parking garage. I’ve missed Luke’s bedtime, but maybe he’s still up. I want him to be up and waiting for me, but I also know that if he stays up late, he’ll be hell on wheels tomorrow.

I approach the car Nikolai is letting me use. Another thing I owe him for, but that’s not what makes me freeze. I swallow the lump in my throat when I see the single white rose under the windshield. I look at the other cars, half expecting to see flowers tucked under their windshields, too. Nothing.

I step closer.

White roses are not unique to Matteo. People give them for a thousand reasons. Sympathy. Weddings. Apologies.

I pick it up by the stem. The petals are perfect. Fresh. It’s not for me.