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Emma tried to protest his riding with them again when he walked around to the passenger door, but he shook his head. “I told him I would, so I will.” Then the Prince climbed into her car and pulled his seat belt into place, like he rode in such humble transportation all the time.
Mickey kept up a running dialogue with his father as Emma drove, stopping every few sentences, to get her confirmation. “Right, Mom?” was one of his favorite phrases when he was feeling nervous.
The number of times he used that phrase in the short drive to their house on the outskirts of town indicated just how nervous he was feeling, despite the confident demeanor he put forth.
So much like his father, she ached. As she often did at that reminder.
When they arrived at the fixer-upper house she’d managed to buy only a month previously, Konstantin did not look impressed. She tried to see the one-level old adobe house through his eyes and failed utterly. She could see only what had drawn her to it first.
The coral-stained adobe contrasted happily with the wood trim painted turquoise. The landscaping needed work as odd scrub grew between and around the natural rock that acted as tile in the tiny front courtyard. She did her best to keep up on the weeds, but she had only so many off-hours.
“Is this your home?” Konstantin asked.
Emma didn’t know if he was talking to her or to their son, but Mickey answered. “We just got it. I have my own room now and Mom is gonna put in a play structure in back when we get enough money.”
Konstantin made a sound like he was choking, but he smiled at Mickey. “I would like to see your room.”
“Okay. That’s okay, right, Mom?” Mickey asked again.
“Of course.” She turned off the car. “Let’s go inside.”
Konstantin stopped once they were in the living room and just stared around him. “This is where you and my son live?” he asked with what sounded like disdain to her sensitive ears.
Emma gritted her teeth, gave their son a significant look and then replied, “Yes. This is the home our son loves and is very proud to be able to call his own. Think before you speak, Konstantin. I mean, Your Highness.”
He frowned. “You used to call me Kon.”
“We used to be friends.” They’d been lovers too, but she wasn’t saying that in front of her son.
“We are going to be much more than that soon. Call me Konstantin if you must, but don’t use my title. We are way beyond that.” With that pronouncement he headed down the hallway with Mickey.
The next two hours were a revelation. Konstantin should not have been so good with Mickey. He had no experience with children. He was a tycoon prince, not a dad.
But he was patient with the little boy, showing no frustration when Mickey grew fractious.
“It’s time for lunch, I think.” Emma smiled down at her son. “Are you hungry, Mickey?”
“My name is Mikhail!” her son shouted.
Emma winced at the volume, but her reaction was nothing compared with how still Konstantin became. “You named him after me? But why?”
She stepped back, though he’d made no move to come closer to her. She’d been very careful to keep her distance and their son between them. She had no answer she was willing to say in front of Mickey for why she’d given her son his father’s middle name.
It hadn’t been because she wanted to honor Konstantin, but she’d thought her son deserved something of his father’s and that was all Emma had ever been able to give him.
She just shook her head. “Lunch.”
“Because you’re my dad,” Mickey replied with none of his mother’s reticence. “Mom says I’m just like you.”
“Does she?” Konstantin stared at her and then at Mickey.
Mickey nodded. “Mostly when I’m being stubborn.”
“Like about eating lunch?”
“I don’t want you to go away.”
Oh, man. Emma had never doubted that Mickey needed his dad, but she’d had no way to give him access. Now Prince Konstantin Mikhail of the House of Merikov was here in the flesh and Mickey didn’t want to lose him.
