Scoring Mr. Romeo (The Mr. Wrong Series Book 3) Page 9

  It was hard not to share with Mikey what we would be doing on Saturday, especially since he’d bring Luca up all the time. The protective mother in me worried my son seemed to latch onto a man who, for all intents and purposes, was a stranger to him.

  No one had influenced Mikey since Dillon’s death, except for maybe my brother. But even with Michael, I felt as if my son was cognizant that his uncle lived far away and getting too attached wouldn’t work out well for him. As far as his grandfathers, well, they were just that. They doted, loved and spoiled him—exactly what they were supposed to do.

  Luca and I spoke a few times since Saturday night, always after Mikey was in bed. He also sent me texts throughout the week to ask how my day was going. Even though I hadn’t seen him in person, the imagery he provided after our romantic evening had me reliving every delicious moment.

  What felt like a minute later, Mikey came barreling into my room whining over the rain that pelted our windows. I felt bad for the kid; he looked so forward to his soccer games. Because of the weather, I convinced him to watch cartoons in my bed so I get a bit more rest. Getting up so early on a rainy Saturday meant a long-ass day for me.

  “Mom?” he asked, shaking me with a small hand on my shoulder.

  I propped up on an elbow and kissed the top of his messy head of hair. “What’s up, baby?”

  His puckered brow indicated he debated on what to say. When his big brown eyes focused on mine, he asked in a tiny voice, “Do you miss Dad?”

  “Of course I do,” I responded with no hesitation.

  “You never really talk about him.”

  My heart instantly squeezed in my chest from a shot of regret. “Well, I think about him all the time. Sometimes, it’s hard to talk about him.” Boy, wasn’t that the truth.

  There wasn’t one memory I held that hadn’t been tainted. When I remembered the day he proposed, visions of him with her superseded the joy I experienced from being engaged. When I remembered the day I surprised Dillon with the news he was going to be a father, the child she had made me bitter and angry.

  I wrapped an arm around my son and pulled him closer. “Baby, did you have another dream about Daddy?” It happened often, sometimes Mikey would wake up crying and calling for Dillon. Other times, he’d wanted to sleep in my bed because that was where his dad used to sleep.

  “No. I just get sad a lot,” he said after a long pause.

  “It’s okay to be sad.”

  He twisted in my arms to stare up at my face. “Do you think if Daddy didn’t die we’d still be living in our old house?”

  “Yes, baby.”

  “Then that makes me sad because I wouldn’t be friends with Jared or Scottie. They are my best buddies, and then Luca, too. Do you think Daddy is upset in heaven because I have new friends now?”

  The irises of his eyes shimmered in the dimly lit room. “No…” I paused to swallow the lump that had lodged in my throat. “No, baby. I think Daddy is watching you with your new friends, and he’s smiling that you’re happy.” I pulled his head closer to kiss his forehead before tucking him under my arm.

  We both stared at SpongeBob, each lost in our own thoughts. Thinking the conversation was over, he surprised me and said, “Yeah, Mom. I think you’re right. And you know what else?”

  “What, baby?”

  “I hope I’m always friends with Jared, Scottie, and Luca, so I can tell them all the fun things I used to do with Dad.”

  A slow tear escaped from my eye. I swiped it away and nodded in agreement. “Me, too, baby. But remember, you’ll always meet new friends in life. Like when you get older and you go to college or even start a job. Friends are like stars in the sky. You can never have too many, and even if you meet new ones, the old ones will still twinkle in your life.”

  “Right. But my friends now are like the Big Dipper. They’ll always be there.”

  I hope so.

  I stared at my son, a mini-me of his father. So much sorrow had happened in his short life. By the same token, he had so much life yet to live. I wouldn’t be able to protect him from heartbreak, but I could damn well try.

  The episode ended with my son giggling at that stupid sponge’s antics. And just like that, he was back to being a carefree five-year-old boy.

  “Hey, who wants a Mickey Mouse pancake?”

  His head twisted with a huge smile. “With whipped cream?” I couldn’t help but smile at his request. Dillon never put syrup on his pancakes, and he passed his weird preference for whipped cream onto our son.

  “Absolutely with whipped cream.” I ruffled his hair before slipping out of bed. Making my way to the kitchen, I started up the coffee pot and pulled out the mix for the pancakes. My cell chimed with an incoming text where it was plugged in on the counter.

  Luca: I’ll come by at ten to pick you guys up.

  Wondering if the rain had stopped, I walked to the window carrying my cell in my hand. A steady downpour continued, and I quickly texted back.

  Me: I’m sorry. I was going to text you in a bit. The game is canceled.

  The dancing dots appeared, and his response came quickly.

  Luca: We’ll just have to figure out something else to do. See you soon. Okay?

  I couldn’t believe he still planned to spend the day with us. The battle of confusion, between wanting him to or not, percolated within me.

  The woman I was wanted nothing less than to spend the whole day with Luca. Remembering how I felt with his arms around me as we danced, his lips on mine, the intimate act he gifted me with, had the need to see him today swelling like a balloon being inflated.

  But the mother in me feared it was too soon.

  My conversation with my son left me feeling raw, inadequate. It was obvious Mikey was searching for that man to replace his father. If things didn’t work out with Luca, and there were plenty of reasons to believe they wouldn’t, how could I set Mikey up for more loss in his young life?

  Bottom line, he made me happy, he made Mikey happy, and it wasn’t like he was proposing marriage. The man wanted to hang out, do something fun. How could I find fault with that?

  I hesitated enough for him to send another text.

  Luca: Sabrina?

  Me: Okay.

  I walked out of my room, dressed in jeans, a long sleeve gray T-shirt, and my Converse sneakers. Mikey sat at the table, half of his pancake still buried under a mountain of whipped cream.

  “Hey, mister. If you don’t finish your breakfast, you won’t be ready to go.”

  Remnants of Mickey’s chocolate chip eyes were smeared across his bottom lip when he asked, “Go where?”

  “It’s a surprise. But since it takes you for… ever to finish one pancake, you’ll just have to stay in today and, oh, I don’t know, practice your spelling words?”

  He shoved the last few bites of Mickey’s ear into his mouth. While still chewing, he said, “Done!”

  “Good boy. Go clean up, wash your face, and brush your teeth. Meet me in your room.”

  He shot out of his chair and bolted toward the bathroom. I waited until the very last minute to tell him, glancing at the clock on the microwave to confirm as such. Down the hall I heard evidence of him brushing his teeth, and then he ran into his room.

  “Mom! What should I wear?”

  Not knowing exactly what Luca had planned, I figured we couldn’t go wrong dressing for the weather. “Put on a pair of jeans and one of your favorite sweatshirts.” I smiled at the sound of his drawers opening and closing. “Mikey, don’t forget clean underwear and socks.”

  “I know, Mom!” came at me without hesitation.

  In less time it took for him to eat half a pancake, my adorable son stood in front of me… with one blue sock and one red one. “Sweetie?” I pointed at his feet.

  “Oh.” He laughed and ran back into his room.

  The buzzer on my door sounded. I knew it was Luca, so I hit the unlock button and cracked open my apartment door. It didn’t take long for him to be sta
nding in my doorway. He pushed it open and scanned the room. When he realized it was just us, he planted a swift kiss on my lips. “Good morning, beautiful. Where’s the ball of energy?”

  “Putting on matching socks… and good morning.”

  He closed the door behind him and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I thought we could go to an indoor soccer field and then how does an indoor waterpark sound?”

  “Mikey would love that, but let’s not tell him until we’re sure that’s what we’re doing. He was so disappointed his game was canceled.” I studied the gorgeous man in front of me for a moment. “Are you sure you don’t have other things you want to do today?”

  “This is what I want to do today. Go grab your bathing suit, and Mikey’s.” No sooner did Luca finish his request, when Mikey came barreling out of his room.

  “Okay, I match!” He wiggled his toes with pride before noticing we weren’t alone. “Luca! You’re here.” In a flash he was across my small living room and catapulted himself into Luca’s arms.

  “Hey, buddy.” Luca gestured toward my bedroom with his head, and I went to go grab our swimwear.

  Being that it was April, I wasn’t prepared to don a bathing suit. I knew I couldn’t skirt out of this since Mikey would be in the water, which meant, so would I. A bikini wouldn’t be appropriate for today, so I decided on a one-piece. It wasn’t overly conservative, yet it had enough material that covered what needed to be.

  Once I had my suit and Mikey’s packed, along with a hairbrush, comb and a small can of hairspray, I was ready to go.

  When I walked into the living room, Mikey was sitting on the couch with Luca telling him all about his week at school. “You should have seen it. I was the fastest one in my class. No one caught me for tag. It was the coolest thing. Then, Miss Brooks taught us how to make these cool beach balls out of… um…” He turned to me for assistance. “Mommy, what was it called?”

  “Papier mâché.”

  “Yeah, that’s it.” Luca’s eyes went wide as did his smile at Mikey’s enthusiasm. “It’s really flour and water. Did you know it makes this cool paste and then you rub it on newspaper? We covered a balloon with it. Miss Brooks said it didn’t matter if the balloon popped or deflated because it would still be a ball. Then we painted it. Miss Brooks is the coolest. Wait, I’ll show it to you.” He finally stopped to take a breath and jumped off the couch.

  Luca released a hearty chuckle. “What did you feed him this morning?”

  Before I could answer, Mikey was back holding the rainbow-colored ball. He handed it to Luca who let out a whistle. “Wow, buddy, this is fantastic. You did such a great job. It’s exactly like a beach ball.”

  “Thank you. Miss Brooks said we all did a great job. You can keep it.” My heart lodged in my throat. Mikey looked at me with wide eyes. “Mommy, is it okay if I give it to Luca?”

  When I noticed the way Luca’s eyes focused on Mikey before moving to me, there was only one answer to give. “Honey, if you’d like him to have it, then that’s up to you.”

  He spun back around and faced Luca. “Would you like to keep it?”

  Luca smiled. “Of course, but on one condition.” Mikey’s nose crinkled from confusion. “An artist always signs his work.”

  Once again, my son bounced off of the couch and returned with a marker. Luca held the ball as my son etched his name onto the yellow stripe. His little tongue poked out of the side, which made me smile.

  I almost had to excuse myself when Luca pulled him into a hug to thank him. “This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten. Thank you. Now, how about we head out of here and have some fun.” Mikey nodded. “Grab a jacket because it’s chilly outside.”

  Chapter 12

  Luca

  After Mikey changed from jeans to track pants, made a last minute bathroom visit, said goodbye to his hermit crab, and put the papier mâché ball in a plastic bag we were on our way… or so I thought. Then Mikey ran back into the apartment to grab his favorite hat, and we were finally on our way.

  Sabrina and I walked down the stairs with Mikey between us, chattering away about the gross lunch his friend Jared brought to school yesterday.

  “Egg salad. Yuck. It stunk up the whole classroom. Eggs are so gross. Do you like eggs, Luca?”

  “I do.”

  “Hmm. Maybe I should try them again one day. Grandma made me scrambled eggs once, and they weren’t too yucky.” I peered at his mother over his head, smiling as she rolled her eyes. My hand itched to hold hers, but now wasn’t the time or place.

  When we got to the lobby, Sabrina lifted the hood of Mikey’s raincoat. “Aw, Mom, it’s hardly raining out.” He pushed the kelly green nylon off his head and pointed to the Yankee cap. “That’s what this is for.” Again Sabrina rolled her eyes, but chose to pick her battles.

  “Why don’t you guys wait here while I get the car?”

  Sabrina met my eye, and raised her brows in question. “Maybe we’re better off taking my car?”

  “No need. Wait here. I’ll be a few.”

  “We can walk with you,” Mikey volunteered. He pointed toward the glass door. “See, it’s stopping.” He looked to his mom, clapping his little hands together and begging, “Puh-leeeze?”

  Sabrina flipped the hood up on her jacket with a sigh. “Okay.”

  Mikey ran out the door with Sabrina and I close behind. “Where are we going, Luca?” he asked, bouncing on his sneakered feet. We started walking toward the corner as a light drizzle fell.

  “Well, first we’re going to practice your soccer skills. There’s an indoor field I reserved for us.”

  “Awesome! I need to stay on top of my game since we aren’t playing today.” He stopped walking long enough to kick an imaginary ball through the air. I couldn’t help but laugh at the determination on his face.

  “Stay on top of your game? Where did you learn that?” Sabrina asked, trying to hide her smile but failing.

  “Scottie,” he said with an obvious raise of one hand. Turning his attention to me, he further explained, “Scottie’s dad is our coach.”

  “Ah, gotcha.” The man sucked at coaching. “Well, today I’ll help you learn some moves that you can impress Scottie’s dad with. How’s that, buddy?”

  “I can’t wait! I’m the only one on the team who has a best friend that actually played soccer in Italy.” He went on to explain his conversation with his friends about the best countries in the world who play the best soccer. “Jared said Brazil people are the best, but I said, no way. Italy people are. Right, Luca?”

  “I don’t think so, buddy. But I believe we’re tied for second in most World Cup wins.”

  “Well, that’s just as good as first. Right? There’s like a million countries they beat.” I nodded a lot, listening intently, but my true focus was on Sabrina. She seemed very quiet, and I wondered what was on her mind.

  After a few minutes, I led them to a blue rented SUV parked halfway down the block. When I raised the key fob to unlock the doors with a beep, Sabrina twisted her head with a look of shock on her face.

  “Is this your car? Cool!”

  “No buddy, I’m renting it.” I opened the back door for him. He jumped inside, sat on the booster seat, and pulled the webbed belt down to buckle himself in.

  “It’s so clean,” he added, his eyes taking in the pristine interior. “Mom, our car is messy.”

  “And whose fault is that?” she countered with a raised brow.

  I shut the back door and waited a pause before opening the front door for Sabrina. “Are you okay?”

  Her gorgeous hazel eyes widened as her bottom lip trembled with emotion. “Luca, I can’t believe you did this.”

  One of my shoulders raised in a casual way. “It’s no big deal.”

  She shook her head, contradicting my words. “It is a big deal.”

  We stood staring at each other. The need to reach out, dig my fingers into her hair, and draw her mouth to mine was strong. But the need to keep it platonic fo
r Mikey’s sake won out.

  A solid knock on the window broke our moment. “Are we going?” We heard a muffled impatient voice ask with hands raised palms up.

  “Sorry, buddy.” I opened the door for his mother, and whispered, “To be continued.”

  After practice, we started to head to the water park. Of course, Mikey was asking a thousand questions when he heard we weren’t going home yet. The excitement on his face was reminiscent of seeing Santa Claus.

  “That was the coolest place, Luca. I’ve never played on fake grass before. You’re really good, too.” I looked into my rearview mirror when he got quiet. His brows furrowed as I caught his reflection.

  “What’s wrong, buddy?”

  Sabrina twisted in her seat, craning her head to see her son. “Are you okay?”

  Mikey started and stopped his question a couple of times and then blurted it out. “I’m just wondering, well, I mean, Luca taught me how to head the ball today, which was really awesome, but I’m wondering why he didn’t when he was at my game?”

  I let out a chuckle and Sabrina covered her mouth. Apparently, she knew laughing just encouraged children, whereas I’d rather laugh with them. “Well, usually during a game, a header is strategic… and planned. Your kick surprised me. But, believe me, that won’t happen again.” Mikey rewarded me with a smile.

  “Oh, next time I’ll tell you it’s coming.” He paused for a second. “But, I won’t tell the other players because then they’ll know what my strat… my strat…”

  I filled in the blank. “Strategy?”