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But I look at Leo’s eager expression, and I know I won’t.
“If anything happens to him—anything at all—I willgut you.”
Rather than smile at the whispered threat—or laugh, like Grigoriy did—Nick nods. “I know.”
I glance at Leo and raise my voice. “You can go. Whatever Nick tells you to do, you do. Okay?”
Leo nods like a bobblehead.
“Okay. Have fun.” Reluctantly, I glance at Nick, including him in the statement.
He wants to spend time with his son. I shouldn’t resent that. I’m just not used to sharing Leo with anyone, let alone the one other person who might deserve to have a say in how he is raised.
There’s something soft in Nick’s expression as Leo rushes toward him. “Ready, kiddo?”
Leo does another bobblehead impression. “Bye, Mom!” he calls, already following Nick toward the door.
I watch as Leo glances over and mimics his father’s posture, straightening his spine and squaring one shoulder. Nick looks over one shoulder at me, catching my stare.
He holds my gaze for a minute, and I hate how right this moment feels. How much the sight of him walking with our son feels like one I’ve been waiting to witness.
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
NICK
Leo’s wide eyes take in everything as we drive. I want him to see my homeland—his by extension—even if he has no idea the scrubbed, snowy earth has any connection to him or his ancestors.
“What does this do?” Leo asks, pointing to the seat warmer.
“Heats the seats.”
“Really? Can I try it?”
“Sure.”
He presses the button, then looks at me. “I don’t feel anything.”
“Give it a minute.”
“What’s that?” He points to the parking brake next.
“Doesn’t your mom’s car have all this stuff?”
“I guess so.” Leo pauses. “She doesn’t let me ride up front though.”
Fuck.
No wonder the kid looked so elated when we climbed in the car. My Huracan doesn’t have a backseat, and it didn’t even occur to me he should ride in one. This is the first time I’ve spent any time alone around my son, and I’m already messing up the dad thing.
I glance at Leo. “Our little secret.”
He nods so seriously, I almost smile.
I’m pretty sure telling your kid to lie to his mother is also a parenting no-no. But Lyla already has plenty of doubts about me, and it’s not like I’ve had time to research how to be a dad. The last time I was around an eight-year-old was when I was that age myself.
“How do you know my mom?”
I hesitate before answering. I doubt Lyla has told Leo anything about me, besides that we’re “friends.”
