Page 89 of The Drummer's Heart

“You have no idea.” Atticus caught him, lifting Christian and tilting him upside down as the boy giggled harder.

A child’s laughter certainly had a way of soothing even a bitter soul like mine.

The second Atticus put him down, Christian took off again, running into my kitchen. He began opening all of the bottom-cabinet doors.

I chuckled. “He’s a little explorer.”

“He’s loving that you don’t have anything childproofed. He’s not used to being able to open everything like this. He’d ransack my place, if I let him get away with it. I’ve got locks on everything.”

I winced as Christian slammed one of the cabinet doors. “I guess I live in a danger zone.”

He took out one of my pots, turned it bottom up and began banging the top of it. I found a wooden spoon in the drawer and handed it to him. He flashed an adorable grin as he whacked it against the stainless steel.

“He understood the assignment.” Atticus laughed.

“He’s a little drummer boy like his daddy, huh?”

“Let’s hope.” Atticus shrugged. “Or maybe not. His life will be a lot simpler if he stays away from that scene.”

I gestured over to the counter. “I ordered pizza for us. I hope he likes pizza.”

“Are you kidding? It’s his favorite thing to eat.”

I smiled. “Oh good.”

I’d gotten two large pies, which might’ve been too much. I set one of the boxes on the kitchen table, along with some plates.

“What does he like to drink?”

“Water’s fine.”

That seemed so boring. “Are you sure? I bought lemonade, too.”

“Water’s good. He had some candy earlier. He doesn’t need the extra sugar. He’ll be up all night.”

I nodded, impressed.

Atticus sat, placing Christian on his lap.

He opened the box and took out a slice of pizza, taking a bite to test whether or not it was too hot. I watched as he used a napkin to dab some of the grease off the top. Finally, he held the slice up to Christian’s mouth and fed it to him. Every bit of it made my heart squeeze and ache at the same time. He was much more experienced at this than I’d ever imagined. Perhaps it shouldn’t have come as a surprise, given that he’d been a dad for two years now.

“This is surreal,” I confessed. “Both seeing Christian and watching you as a dad. You take care of him very well.”

He smiled. “Thank you. That means a lot.” Atticus kissed the top of Christian’s head. “I love being his father. But the truth is, I’m not here for him enough. I live with a lot of regret about that.”

I nodded. There was so much that Atticus had never been able to share with me until now. I’d shut him down at every turn. I smiled down at the boy as he chomped his pizza. “He doesn’t seem to be holding it against you.”

“He definitely doesn’t. He’s always happy to see me. That makes me even sadder sometimes. One day when he’s old enough to realize I’m essentially choosing to live away from him, he might start to resent it. I worry he’ll wake up one morning and be like, ‘Wait a minute, that asshole should’ve been here every day.’”

“Actually, maybe one day he’ll wake up and realize who his famous father is and be proud to tell everyone.”

“I want him to be proud of me for reasons other than my fame, though, you know? And I still have a lot of work to do where that’s concerned. David is the one who’s there for him more, so I worry Christian will end up closer to him than he is me. He’s too young to play favorites now, but when it comes time to get involved in sports and all that…who’s gonna be the one tossing the ball around with him day in and day out, you know?”

“You’re doing the best you can right now,” I assured him. “That’s very evident to me.”

He took a slice of pizza for himself and bit into it. “I’m banking on Tristan having a kid, and then he’ll want to slow down a bit. Delirious Jones can’t continue at our current pace forever.”

“You think Tristan and Emily will have kids soon? They just got married.”

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