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Wyatt nodded at the phone and tapped a button to end the call. “Siri, set a timer for ten minutes, please.”
Who was this little executive? “I don’t think he meant ten minutes quite that literally,” I informed him.
Wyatt shot me a confused look. “Sergio always keeps his promises, Mom. Where are my clothes? I need to be ready when he gets here.”
I grabbed the bag with Wyatt’s stuff in it and held it out for him. What promises was Sergio making Wyatt? How often were these calls? Wyatt accepted the bag and went into the bathroom. I heard water running and realized this child, my little tornado, was brushing his teeth without being nagged.
He hadn’t done that in my presence since Eli was alive.
I took a big breath to keep the tears at bay. Wyatt growing up without Eli was one thing that would land me in tears for hours if I let it. A few minutes passed and Wyatt emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed with his hair combed.
“Looking good, Wy,” I said, swallowing down a sniffle.
The little shit winked at me.
Just as the alarm Wyatt set went off, there was a knock on the door. I can’t get that guy to be on time to anything, but he shows up right on the dot for waffles with a four-and-a-half-year-old.
Wyatt stood in front of the door, grinning. “Who is it?”
“Sergio Farinelli to see Wyatt Fuller,” Sergio’s voice called from the other side of the door. Wyatt looked at me for approval to open the door, and I nodded.
My pulse jumped at the sight of Sergio when he walked into the room. He looked ready for the day in his jeans and t-shirt. I bit my lip. “I’m so sorry. Kid called my bluff. He told me he knew how to call you and, apparently, he can. I would’ve made him wait until a more appropriate time.”
Sergio flashed me a panty-dropping grin. “Wyatt and I made plans. I figured he would be up early, and you’d appreciate it if we had a gentlemen’s breakfast so you could sleep in.”
I blinked a few times, trying to understand what was happening here.
“Go back to sleep, Kate. Text me when you wake up and I’ll bring him back.” He looked down at Wyatt. “Go give Mom a kiss goodbye so we can find these waffles.”
I stood there, dumbfounded, while my son came and gave me a giant hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Bye, Mom!”
And then they left. I sat down on the bed, my mind running a mile a minute, trying to process what had just happened. As much as I wanted to be sleeping when Wyatt woke me up just a short time ago, there was no way I was falling asleep with all of this new information.
Instead, I laid in the bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to put the pieces together.
Me: How often does Wy talk to Sergio on the phone?
Candi: Most days. Is that not okay?
Candi and I had formed an alliance of sorts in the time I’d been out of residential therapy. Wyatt adores her, and she’s apologized almost daily since the day she thought I was a drug addict who was bad for my son. Never once did this come up, though.
Candi: I assumed he did it when he was with you as well.
Most nights Wyatt had been sleeping at Mason’s keeping his routine stable, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t the one to tuck him in a few nights a week. Hell, when I was on the road with Sergio, I didn’t notice. Thinking back, he stepped aside almost nightly to make a phone call. I thought it was to his mother, who he had been in closer contact with since their trip to Europe. Was he calling Wyatt?
My phone rang. “Hey. I hope I wasn’t texting too early,” I said to Candi.
“You’re freaking me out. Please tell me I didn’t fuck up.”
“It’s fine. I just didn’t realize that kid had a fan club,” I reassured her.
She laughed. “Yeah. That kid gets more phone calls than his father.”
“How have I not noticed?”
“Most of the time, it’s early in the morning or before bed. Serge calls most nights around seven unless there’s a time zone issue and he needs to leave a video message.”
“What does that mean, leave a video message?”
