“You better make sure of that,” she said.
“I will,” I said as I kissed her hands. “I promise.”
And if I had it my way, she would even add someone to her family. But I had to convince Julia of it first.
I had to convince her to let me be a part of my son’s life.
CHAPTER 6
JULIA
“Thank you so much for watching him for me, Enrico.”
I walked into my son’s bedroom and found the two of them sitting on the floor. Matteo was building with a set of wooden building blocks that had the paint chipping off the side. Enrico was sitting there, helping him to stabilize the building my son was creating. I smiled at the two of them and leaned against the doorway as Enrico’s eyes turned up to mine.
“It’s not a problem. How did things go?” he asked.
“Better than the first time, though I’m still not convinced things will go the way my uncle hopes.”
“Did something happen?”
“Calm down,” I said with a grin. “Nothing happened.”
I wasn’t about to tell Enrico that Romeo and I had sex on the man’s dining room table. I still couldn’t believe it had taken place. I pushed off the doorway and crouched down beside Matteo, effectively relieving Enrico of his babysitting duties.
“Did you have fun while I was gone?” I asked.
“My blocks are old,” my son said.
“Yeah. They’re looking a bit worn. Why don’t we go out shopping tomorrow and get you a new set?”
“Can we fix these?”
He held up a chipped block to my face. I took it between my fingers. This was a block set my father had gifted him when my son was merely two years old. My father said he’d have plenty of time to grow into them. What I didn’t plan on was them being his most favorite toy, and the wood was beginning to chip, and I was starting to fear things like splinters. Scratches. Cuts and bruises from the jagged corners of the chipping wood.
“We could sand them down,” Enrico said. “Slap some more paint on them.”
“Please?” Matteo said. “Grandpa gave me these.”
I sighed as I looked into the eyes of my sweet six-year-old little boy. He had always been sweet, but headstrong in what he wanted. If he didn’t want to give up these blocks, then there was no way I would be able to convince him. But the pain in his eyes was unmistakable. My son, whom I’d tried to shield from all the pain in the world, missed his grandfather. His “boombah.” These blocks were one of the few connections he still had to the man, and he wasn’t willing to give it up.
And I knew all too well how that felt.
“Then how about this? You take a nap, and when you get up, you and I will go to the workshop and fix these blocks up. How does that sound?”
My son flashed me a smile
before he threw himself into my arms.
I picked him up and settled him into bed before I tucked him in tightly. Then, we went through our routine. I kissed his forehead, the tip of his nose, and each of his cheeks. I ran my fingers through his hair as he smiled up at me, then I drew in a deep breath. I knew that our time with naps was coming to an end. There were hardly any six-year-olds I knew that still took naps and I considered myself lucky that Matteo still settled down for them.
“Repeat after me,” I said. “You are smart.”
“Smart.”
“You are capable.”
“Capable.