Page 1 of Dating the Billionaire

One

Stephen

I pull the blankets up over my boy. “I’m so proud of you, son.”

Bode doesn’t say much as I tuck him in. He’s a quiet five-year-old kid. Even at such a young age he prefers to do most things on his own, like puzzles, Lego buildings, and crafts and coloring, and he isn’t one for smalltalk. Although, he will open up if asked the right question.Therein lies the challenge.

Reminds me of my old man, before he passed. He was a man of few words, too.

Of course, my old man and my son don’t actually share any DNA, but it’s a wonder they’re still so alike.

“Had a parent-teacher conference with Ms. Cady today,” I tell Bode. That alone doesn’t pique his interest. But when I share with him the impressive things she told me on our call, with such earnestness, such verve, like how organized Bode is with his school supplies, how neat his handwriting already is, and that he’s ready to move up to first-grade level math, I canfeelBode’s rapt attention on every word I’m saying. He enjoys being praised in specific ways like this, and hell, he’s earned it. I could tell his teacher was truly impressed.

Iamproud of him.

More times than not I get these tuck-ins done as quickly as possible. Bode doesn’t seem to care one way or another if I read him a story, or tickle his back, or lie down with him and keep trying to askthequestion that will get him talking my ear off. I’m normally exhausted anyhow. So it’s a kiss on the forehead and a“goodnight, son-bear,”and lights out.

Tonight I decide I’m not going to rush. The days are long and the years are short and all that.

“You’re pretty smart, you know,” I say in a soft voice, lying down on my back next to Bode in the full-sized bed. Where we can both gaze up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling. They’ve been up there since Meredith died. That was three years ago. Bode still reverently stares at them—his little glimpse of heaven where his mama is. He remembers that. Because I remind him, like all the time.

“I know,” Bode whispers. Not arrogantly. Not sarcastically. Just matter-of-fact. Just so…sure.

Sometimes I wonder…how in the world is heonlyfive years old?

Was Elon Musk this way when he was a kid?

Not that my son need be compared to a billionaire fake astronaut. More frequently, I wonder if Bode’s bio mom was smart, too.Had to be.

“What are you going to be when you grow up?” I ask.

“A spy,” kiddo’s answer is instantaneous.

“You’ve got to be pretty clever to be a spy. You could do that.” I reach over to pat the top of his head. “I’d worry about you though. Spying’s a dangerous job.”

“Well,” he says, his voice perking up.Aha, mission to land on the right question…accomplished!“Dad, I want to tell you something,” he prefaces in his usual way.

“Tell me.”

“There’s two kinds of spies. Ones who fight, and ones who don’t. I’m good at hiding and being sneaky.”

“You are?”

“Yeah. So I won’t be the kind who fights.”

“What if someone catches you hiding? They’d probably be mad. You’ll have to know how to defend yourself.”

“I could fight them if Ihadto,” he says coolly. Sounding very much like a five-year-old now.

“Hopefully you never have to.”

“Watch this!” In his sudden excitement Bode bursts up from the bed. “I can do some ninja moves…like this.” He demonstrates fierce punches and kicks and I can’t help my grin. “I’ve been practicing.”

“I see that,” I say with a big smile. I watch him perform hisninja moves, and the more I watch him, the more I smile and laugh, the more he tries to make me laugh harder. When he’s spent he launches himself back into bed, panting from the exertion. He’s beaming as he gazes up at the ceiling.

Thatwas worth it not to rush. Why do I ever rush? In moments like these I can’t fathom why. This kid is the light of my life. He’s myonlylight left. And for him…well I’m it too. I’m all he’s got, far as parents go.

“You’re gonna need another bath after that,” I chuckle.

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