The dismissal is clear, but Leo protests. “But we were just getting to the good part. Mr. Vetrov was going to tell me about the plant-eating ones.”
“Another time, perhaps,” I say gently, though I catch Danielle’s sharp look at the suggestion. “Thank you both for letting me join you for ice cream. This was the best part of my day.”
And it was. Sitting in this simple ice cream shop, listening to my son talk about dragons and dinosaurs and the wisdom of three-year-old social justice, has been more meaningful than any business meeting or power play I’ve engaged in recently. As we walk outside, Leo takes my hand with casual trust that makes my heart stop. “Mr. Vetrov, do you have kids?”
The question is innocent, but it hurts my heart as I navigate an answer that isn’t a lie. “I hope to soon.” My answer makes Danielle flinch and get pale again as she quickly looks away.
“You should. Kids are really fun, and you seem like you’d be a good dad. You listen really well, and you know about important stuff like dinosaurs.”
Danielle’s face goes even whiter at this pronouncement, and she quickly scoops up Leo. “Say goodbye, sweetheart. We really do need to get home.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Vetrov. Thank you for the ice cream.”
“Goodbye, Leo. Thank you for teaching me about the best flavors.” I watch them walk to their car, Leo chattering excitedly about our encounter while Danielle remains silent and tense. Before they drive away, I catch her looking at me through the windshield, and the expression on her face is pure fear.
She knows that I know. The question is what she plans to do about it.
What do I plan to do about it?
As their car disappears around the corner, I stand in the parking lot processing everything I’ve learned. Leo is bright, caring, and has been raised with love and careful attention. Danielle has done an extraordinary job as a single mother, creating a stable, happy environment for our son.
Our son.
The certainty settles in my bones with finality. Leo is mine, and now that I’ve met him, the thought of losing him to Danielle’s fears or my enemies becomes unbearable. She’s right to be afraid. My world is dangerous and loving me puts them both at risk.
The question now is how can I find a way to be part of their lives without destroying what she’s built, because walking away is no longer an option? Not after seeing Leo’s earnest face and hearing him call me nice. Not after watching the trust he extended so easily and the way he lit up when we talked about dinosaurs.
I get back in my car and drive toward the estate, working through the conversation I need to have with Danielle. She’s been protecting our son the only way she knew how, but her doing it alone is over. We’re going to find a way to make this work, because I refuse to be the absent father Leo thinks is gone forever.
I refuse to be gone when I could be there for bedtime stories and dinosaur discussions and all the moments that make up a childhood.
Leo deserves better than that.
We all do.
17
Danielle
The drive home feels endless, even though it takes less than ten minutes. Leo chatters excitedly in his car seat about Radmir’s knowledge of dinosaurs and how nice he seemed, but I can barely focus on his words. My hands shake slightly on the steering wheel as I replay every moment of our encounter at the ice cream shop.
I can’t stop thinking about the way Radmir looked at Leo when he first saw his face clearly. I saw the recognition in his face before he calmed his expression and noticed the way he asked questions about Leo’s father. I’m certain he knows, and the realization makes my stomach churn with something that has nothing to do with pregnancy sickness.
“Mama, did you hear what I said about the dinosaurs?” Leo’s voice breaks through my spiraling thoughts.
“I heard, sweetheart. You had a nice conversation with Mr. Vetrov.”
“He’s really smart. I bet he knows all about the big plant-eating ones and the scary meat-eating ones too.” Leo kicks his feet against his car seat. “I like him. He listens when I talk, and he doesn’t make me feel like my questions are silly.”
The innocent enthusiasm in his voice makes my chest ache. Leo has no idea he just spent an hour with his father. He has no idea the man who bought him ice cream and listened to his stories about preschool drama is the same person I’ve told him is gone.
I park in our designated spot at the apartment complex and help Leo out of his car seat. He skips ahead toward our building, still bubbling with excitement about meeting “Mr. Radmir” and the prospect of learning more about dinosaurs from him in the future. I follow more slowly, mind racing through possible scenarios for what comes next.
Radmir could confront me directly at work on Monday. He could demand answers, threaten legal action, or worse. He could use his wealth and connections to take Leo away from me entirely. The thought makes my knees weak as I climb the stairs to our second-floor apartment.
“Mama, you’re walking really slowly,” Leo observes, waiting patiently by our door. “Are you tired?”
“A little bit, sweetheart.” I unlock the door and usher him inside, grateful for the familiar comfort of our small home. The living room is cluttered with his toys and drawings, all evidence of the life we’ve built together without outside interference.
