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He lingers for a minute. Then, he nods, turns, and disappears. There’s a burst of chatter from the entryway. The front door opens and closes.
I’m alone.
And I feel it.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-FOUR
NICK
For the first time ever, I spend a full day with my kid, just the two of us. No bodyguards. No trips to the warehouse or checking on drug shipments.
It’s a snippet of what my life could look like if I was born with a different last name.
It’s wonderful and terrible.
The perfect day, tinged with the bitter aftertaste of reality. Because outings like this with my son will be rare and far between, going forward. Time with him the exception, not the norm.
I missed eight years, but I didn’tknowI was missing them. Had no idea Leo existed. Now that I do, there’s a clock planted in my brain, continually keeping track of all the days we’re apart.
It’s not just the worst-case scenarios I’m envisioning. I’m realizing I’ll miss out on the happy moments too. I won’t get to go to the state fair Leo spent half the morning talking about. He’s hoping to do his project on Kansas, simply because his teacher said it’s the most boring state. That’s the exact sort of thing I would have done as a kid, and it sparks this weird mixture of pride and nostalgia.
Lyla is trying to provide Leo with the best possible childhood, and I respect her for it.
I know it’s partially driven by all the ways in which her own was lacking, but it’s a noble intention, no matter the impetus. One I can hardly find fault with.
I sure as hell can’t argue with the fact that the Mafia isn’t the best environment for a kid.
But it’s hard to ignore the pinch in my chest every time Leo mentions something I’ll miss out on.
We spend the morning at the zoo. It’s obvious Leo’s animal obsession extends far beyond dogs. He rattles off random facts about every animal we pass—from the hippos to the pythons. Makes sympathetic faces at the bored-looking giraffes and the lion that’s sprawled lazily in scraggly grass, uninterested in calls from the crowd to stand up.
Leo looks horrified by the callousness. I can’t help but think of my father, whose idea of sympathy toward any living creature was firing his Glock in its forehead.
I told Leo earlier I wish my father were still alive, but I’m not sure that’s true.Pakhanis never a responsibility I wanted. Oddly, I know I was always my father’s favorite for the position. It’s why he let me leave for the States, hoping I would come back and step up. Pulling the strings from behind the scenes, like always.
After leaving the zoo, I take Leo to lunch at a steak house. Despite being a Saturday, it’s filled with plenty of corporate suits, picking at salads and making polite small talk. Our waitress is blonde, young, and overly attentive.
Leo asks why she keeps stopping at our table, and I have to muffle the snort that wants to escape.
Kids are blunt. It’s refreshing, hearing unfiltered thoughts. Most people are scared to say what they’re thinking around me. Leo has no such qualms, and it’s a relief.
I know I can be intimidating. I know my father tried to intimidate me.
Honestly, I’m winging the whole parenting thing. There’s no blueprint to follow or manual to read on how to parent a son you just met while also juggling your responsibilities as head of a massive criminal organization. But I think Leo saying what he’s thinking around me is a good start.
After lunch, we go to the natural history museum. Leo is just as enamored by the butterfly room and the dinosaurs as he was by the zoo. By the time we leave the museum, it’s dusk out. The sun is rapidly sinking, dimming the natural light. Streetlamps flick on as we walk toward my rented car, casting shadows.
Leo is clutching the book and T-shirt he picked out in the gift shop, marveling at the ocean exhibit that was our last stop, when my phone buzzes in my pocket.
I let it ring twice, delaying the inevitable. I texted Lyla throughout the day, knowing she will be worrying about Leo. She responded to each text almost immediately, simply liking it in acknowledgment. Either she didn’t want to disturb my time with Leo by asking questions or she didn’t know what to say.
Whoever is calling me knows I asked not to be disturbed. If they’re calling from Moscow, it’s the middle of the night there. It’s urgent, and it’s going to pop the bubble I lived in today, where I can spend a day with my son and not worry about anything else.
I open the door for Leo to climb in the car—in the backseat because this car has one—and answer the call.
Answer, but don’t speak.
There’s a half beat of hesitation before Taras, one of mybratoks, speaks. “Nikitin just called. CKP is planning to raid the Savyolovskaya warehouse.”
