Page 71 of Worth of Waste

Karen sometimes found herself amazed at how Dino could sit with J for hours on end, listening to the boy press the same four buttons on a toy over and over again and seemingly never getting bored.

If nothing else ever mattered between them, she knew he loved his son.

Entirely.

Wholly.

Truly.

He loved that boy more than he loved himself.

“You look cold.”

Dino had no sooner said the words before Karen found herself bundled in his embrace. Warm hands covered hers, taking away the chill from her skin. She rested her head on his chest, happy there for the moment. All it took was a press of his lips to the top of her head, and Karen forgot all about the stress of the busy day.

Soon, Dino would probably leave.

Maybe for a couple of days.

Maybe for a week.

She had come to expect that from his visits—one minute he was there, and the next hour he was grabbing his things without much explanation. She knew a different woman—maybe a better woman—wouldn’t put up with his transient behavior and the lack of explanation that went along with it.

Karen was not that woman.

She took what he gave, because she loved him just as he was.

She still wanted more sometimes, but she had come to appreciate the amount of time and affection Dino could provide in his passing moments when he was around.

“The pediatrician said he’s too smart for his own good,” Karen said.

Dino chuckled. “Already knew that.”

“You could have let me know you’d be here today.”

“Did I have to?”

Karen shrugged. “No. This is good.”

“Da!”

The singsong tune followed their son’s cry, the ABCs belting out from a train-shaped toy Junior had plucked up from the toy aisle at their last trip to the mall.

“Bee, Cee, Dee,” the baby sang, plopping down to his bottom at his father’s feet. He held the toy high, urging Dino to take it. “Twane, Da.”

“Train,” Dino corrected, plucking the toy from his boy’s hand. “It’s very loud, J.”

“He always picks the loudest ones,” Karen mused.

Dino gave her a wink, and in that split second, her heart melted. “The loudest toys are the best ones.”

And these moments were the ones that explained exactly why Karen never complained about Dino, or his constant coming and going from their life. Whatever was happening on the other side of the city, whatever worries had sent him running for a safe haven with them, it didn’t really matter.

Not when he picked his son up and fell to his back on the couch, already focused on the toy in his hand and the baby sitting on his middle. They were the most important things to him. He showed it in so many other ways that she knew no one else got to see.

“I didn’t actually cook,” Dino said absently. “Just grabbed some take-out. It’s in the kitchen.”

Karen dropped a kiss to his forehead as she passed him by.