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“Yes! Uncle Marcus. My mama gives me milk every morning. She says it helps my brain. I want to have milk so that I can be very smart.”

Marcus smiled. But he also couldn’t have just milk. Not when he hadn’t eaten.

“Okay. Let’s do this. I’ll let you have milk, but only if you promise to eat something after that.”

Riley put a finger to his chin as if to think before he agreed.

“Okay! We have a deal! My teacher said that when two people agree on something, it’s a deal. So do we have a deal?” Riley questioned, stretching his tiny hand forward for a handshake.

Marcus let out a hearty laugh. The kid was smart.

“Yes, sir, we have a deal,” Marcus chuckled, offering Riley a handshake with the tip of his fingers.

“Okay! One glass of milk coming right up, sir.”

Marcus stood and gave a little mock bow.

Riley giggled, and the sound warmed Marcus’s chest.

He went into the kitchen and made up a glass of milk in no time.

Marcus returned with the milk in minutes. Riley sipped happily, then looked up.

“This is very good, Uncle Marcus. You’re the best!”

Marcus stilled. Those words echoed deep inside him.

You’re the best.

His heart tightened like he had suddenly found a new expectation he wanted to live up to.

Be the best for his son.

Marcus spent the rest of the afternoon with Riley, getting to know his son better.

He liked cereals and ice cream, but Athena always berated him for it, saying he was going to develop a sweet tooth. He loved to read books, and books from the ‘Superhero Series’ were his favorite bedtime stories.

His favorite color was blue, and his favorite ice cream flavor was chocolate. He didn’t have a specific favorite food; he just liked some things to eat and disliked others. And now one of his new favorite meals was the chicken noodle soup Marcus had made for him to eat.

In between, he had made occasional stops at Athena’s room to check in on her.

She was still asleep.

Marcus had spent his time with Riley until evening, when the boy fell asleep again and Marcus tucked him back into bed.

A knock at the door snapped him out of fatherhood mode. Marcus opened it to find Kieran Nash standing in the doorway. He was back.

“We need to talk,” Kieran said

Marcus hummed in agreement and closed the door behind him.

They descended the stairs and sat on the benches in the church, each at opposite sides.

“She is not a dark witch,” Kieran began flatly.

“I figured,” Marcus said quietly.

“So what now?” Kieran pressed.