Page 72 of When I Had You

I’ll buy what he needs.

Straightening back up, I bring him with me, settling Cullen on my side. “When will you return?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? What kind of fu—” Deep breaths. In through the nose. Out through the mouth.

Terpidy kisses Cullen’s cheek and gives him a slight smile before stepping back into the house and holding the door between us. I’m still staring at her in disbelief as my thoughts scatter, searching for answers she won’t give me.

She says, “You still have the key if he needs anything?”

“Yeah,” I reply dumbly, not saying a damn word about what she’s about to do to him. “Say bye to your mom, Cullen.” The phrase more for him than her as we walk into the unknown of when he’ll see her again.

He says, “Bye, Mommy.”

I’m still staring at her, wondering if she means days, weeks, or never returning.

She smiles at him. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Will you?” I say, unable to keep myself from asking.

“A week at the longest.” Her smile for me is smaller but just as genuine as the one she gave him.

My chest loosens from hearing her say that, and I nod. “Okay. Just let me know.”

I set him on the ground when we get a few blocks down, finally feeling like I can breathe normally again. I don’t know what she was thinking. She can play games with me all she wants, but not with him.

Scrubbing my hand over his head, I say, “Your hair looks lighter.”

“Mom says it’s from the summer sun.”

Or me, but I’m not going to quibble over it. “Yeah, mine gets lighter during the summer as well.” A little quibble, but who’s counting? “Ice cream?”

He giggles. “It’s morning.”

“Exactly.” I tap his nose, seeing this as an opportunity instead of a burden. In a few months, he’ll be starting school. I need to make the most of his freedom. “We make our own rules.”

* * *

“Why am I adding beef bouillon to marinara?” I ask my mom, who’s walking me through a recipe on speaker. She lives two floors below mine, but the guys are cooking tonight. Day four on our schedule was packed with the aquarium and shopping to make this meal.

“It adds a nice depth of flavor, and I think it makes it heartier.” She says, “Check your meatballs.”

Cullen cracks up anytime we say the M word, so he’s in a fit of giggles on the couch.

“Okay, I added it.” I bend down to check the meatballs in the oven, which are looking good. Making this meal is a bigger production in time and steps than I expected, considering we could have just ordered it. I know it will pay off, though, and it’s been fun to cook with Cullen.

I was always at the track until after dark, so I didn’t get skills from my mom back then. I’m taking advantage of her expertise now. We’re not Italian, though, so we’re going off instinct versus accuracy.

“Thanks, Mom. I think I have it from here.”

“Happy to help.” She’s been a help and is set up to take Cullen when I leave for Brazil.

Grabbing a beer from the fridge, I twist the cap and flick it into the trash can I’ve pulled out from the cabinet. I don’t drink often since my profession is taxing on the body, and it’s in my contract that I can’t consume alcohol within five days of a race. But I don’t head to Sao Paulo until Sunday, giving me five full days of padding. And because I’ve earned this after all the kid fun we’ve had this week.

“Mom drinks wine,” Cullen says, climbing on the barstool on the other side of the counter.

I don’t dig the tale-telling, but I let my curiosity get the best of me and anchor my hands on the cold stone. “A lot?”

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