He immediately runs to his toy box and starts pulling out his collection of plastic dinosaurs. “I want to show you which ones Mr. Radmir might know about. He said he loves dinosaurs, somaybe next time I can teach him about the ones he doesn’t know yet.”
The assumption there will be a next time makes my stomach clench. “Leo, Mr. Vetrov is very busy with his work. He probably won’t have time to learn about dinosaurs very often.”
He frowns up at me. “He said he’s never too busy for paleontology.” Leo arranges his dinosaurs in careful rows on the coffee table. “That’s the fancy word for studying dinosaurs. Miss Jennifer taught us that at school.”
I remember Radmir using that exact word, and the way his gaze never left Leo’s face when he said it. Every interaction felt loaded with meaning I hoped my son was too young to understand. “He was being polite, sweetheart. Adults sometimes say things to be nice.”
Leo considers this with the seriousness he brings to most adult explanations. “I know, but he seemed like he really meant it. He asked me lots of questions about what I like, and he remembered everything I told him.”
Of course, he did. Radmir was gathering information, filing away details about his son’s interests and personality. I wonder what other conclusions he drew from our conversation. Did he notice how tired I looked? Did he catch the way I kept touching my stomach subconsciously before remembering not to do that?
The baby chooses that moment to make its presence known with a wave of nausea that sends me hurrying to the bathroom. I barely make it to the toilet before dry heaving, my empty stomach having nothing left to give up.
“Mama, are you okay?” Leo’s worried voice comes from the hallway.
“I’m fine, baby. Just feeling a little sick. Can you stay in the living room for a minute?”
When I return to the living room, Leo has moved his dinosaur display to the floor and is creating an elaborate scene with his plastic figures. “Look, Mama. The big plant-eaters are protecting the little ones from the meat-eaters, just like you protect me.”
His innocent observation makes my throat tighten with emotion. “That’s exactly right, sweetheart. That’s what mamas are supposed to do.”
“Is that why you work so hard? To protect me?”
The question catches me unexpectedly with its perceptiveness. He’s only three and a half, but he notices more than I give him credit for. “Yes, Leo. Everything I do is to make sure you’re safe and happy.”
He nods solemnly, then returns to his dinosaurs. I settle onto the couch and watch him play, trying to memorize this moment of peace before everything changes, because it will change. After today, and the way Radmir looked at Leo, along with the careful questions he asked, there’s no going back to pretending Leo isn’t his.
My phone buzzes with a text message from Carmen.How did the errands go? Everything okay? Nausea finally easing up?
I consider lying, telling her everything went fine and we had a quiet afternoon. Instead, I find myself typing the truth, skipping the nausea question:We ran into Radmir at the ice cream shop. He bought Leo ice cream and asked about his father.
Her response comes immediately.Oh, no. Do you think he knows?
I’m sure he knows. The resemblance is too obvious when you see them together.
What are you going to do?
I stare at the question for a long time before texting back:I don’t know.
Three dots appear and disappear several times before her next message arrives:Maybe it’s time to consider telling him the truth before he confronts you about it.
The suggestion makes my hands shake as I type back:I can’t. You know what his world is like. After what happened with that man breaking in, how can I voluntarily expose Leo to that danger?
If he already knows, hiding won’t protect Leo anymore. It might actually make things more dangerous.
I want to argue with her logic, but I can’t find a flaw in it. If Radmir has figured out Leo is his son, pretending otherwise won’t keep us safe. It might even make him angry enough to take action I can’t predict or control.
I need to think.Can we talk tomorrow?
Of course.
I set the phone aside and focus on Leo, who’s now making sound effects for his dinosaur battle. His complete absorption in play reminds me why I’ve been so determined to protect his innocence. He shouldn’t have to worry about dangerous men or complicated adult problems. He should be able to focus on dinosaurs and preschool friends and whether we can get a pet someday. “Leo, it’s time to start getting ready for your bath.”
“Five more minutes?” He looks up at me with pleading eyes, a tactic that worked earlier at the park.
“Five more minutes,” I agree, because I’m not ready to end this normal evening routine yet either.
While he plays, I think about the conversation I had with Radmir in his office a few days ago, and the vulnerability he showed when he talked about Luca and the costs of his world. For a moment, he’d seemed like someone I could trust with the truth, who might understand why I’ve been so afraid.
