Page 179 of One Big Little Secret

“We’ll look again later, hon,” I say after he’s given up. His bottom lip juts out, endearing and frustrating at the same time. “So do you think Patman’s your favorite superhero?”

“He can’t climb buildings and he doesn’t have laser eyes… but he’s still cool.”

I smile. “What’s so cool about him?”

“He’s rich! He sails around the world and fights bad guys. He’s named after a famous general.” He strikes a karate pose and chops the air. “His car’s pretty cool too.”

I’m not sure what he means by fighting bad guys. But there’s no denying the rest is true, and it pours out of my little boy in a hero-worship rush.

God.

“Some great heroes have sad stories, you know,” I say, smoothing the batter. “Like Batman. His parents died when he was young, didn’t they?”

“Yeah.” Arlo shrugs, unbothered.

I need to be more blunt, so I set the bowl down and ask, “Arlo, do you ever wish you had a daddy?”

His face snaps up to look at me and he frowns.

“Oh. Uh.” He chews on the question for a second, watching me with ferocious intent.

Holy hell, he looks just like Patton when he’s focused.

Then he smiles up at me, but he still doesn’t answer.

“Arlo?”

“Don’t worry, Mommy. You’re better than ten dads. I don’t care.”

Yeah, I think that spilled milk from earlier has nothing on my heart exploding.

“I love you, kiddo.” I give him an impulsive hug he doesn’t try to wiggle out of for once. “But it’s okay to want a dad, too. I know the other boys at school have them.”

“But I don’tneeda dad, Mom. It’s okay if he’s gone. I dunno.” He’s so calm, his voice light and easy. Unlike his mother, who’s having a nervous breakdown over starting this conversation. “Are the pancakes almost done? The banana smell’s making me hungry.”

He sniffs the air like a starving raccoon.

Laughing, I try not to let my vision blur and heat the pan to start cooking. With all the emotional distractions, I added too many chocolate chips. But they’re going to be good. My stomach growls right along with his.

I cook silently while Arlo hums to himself, drawing on his notepad. The instant they’re done, he runs over and grabs the sprinkles from next to the stove.

“Thanks, Mommy!”

“Hey, hey, not too many! This is already like having dessert for breakfast.” I wag a finger at him.

He laughs at me mischievously. “What if it’s both?”

“You need breakfast before anything else. No arguments, young man,” I say, cutting a banana into discs to throw on top.

In response, he shakes a whole pile of sprinkles on top of my handiwork once he has the plate.

“There’s banana right there on top. It’s healthy!” he proclaims through a mouthful of pancake.

Oof.

What if he inherited Patton’s sweet tooth and his fighter logic?

“I have a question before you stuff your face,” I say, abandoning any hope of being subtle. “What if your dad came back one day? How would you feel?”

---