Footsteps(119)

Actually, no. She’d started doing her damage to Trey the day she’d abandoned him. But she could do no more.





He’d been better, more like himself, for the past few days, and after talking with Bina, Carlo had decided that he’d do well, finish coming back, if he could play with kids his own age. He was ready for school—Natalie had done lots of enrichment as his nanny, so he knew his shapes and colors. He could count and write the numbers to twenty and read a few words. He knew his address. He could write his name, too.





Well, he could write ‘Trey.’ ‘Carlo Francesco Pagano III’? Not yet.





“I want waffles. I’m gonna ask Misby for waffles.”





Carlo stopped in the midst of dropping Trey’s pajamas into his hamper. “Mizbee?”





“Yeah. It’s like Ms. Bina and Mommy bunched up. She’s like my mommy now but she’s not my mommy.” His little brow wrinkled deeply for a flash, then smoothed. “I like her better. Misby is always nice.”





He was struggling with the straps of his pack and dropped that bombshell in an almost distracted way, without even looking at his father. Carlo kept his voice level as he answered, “She is always nice, isn’t she?” He helped him settle the straps over his shoulders.





“Yeah. She gave me shark socks that chomp my feet and she makes me breakfast and she doesn’t ever yell or hit and she smells good and we went to the ‘quarium and she plays cars and makes car sounds.” He stopped and considered. “They’re not good sounds, but I’m showing her to be better.”





His mind reeling, Carlo took his son’s hand, and they went downstairs, where ‘Misby’ was waiting.





Bina had moved in. She hadn’t given up her little apartment yet, but she had not spent a night in it since Trey’s birthday. Carlo and Trey both needed her too much. They all needed her too much. With Joey still in the hospital, facing a long recovery even after he was released, and with Trey having been so traumatized, she was indispensible.





She was still working at Sea Weaver, which she enjoyed, but, with Andi’s blessing, she took Trey with her when there was no one else to watch him. He talked often, and with glee, about his ‘job’ at the shop. In fact, it had been the first thing he’d shown enthusiasm for after Jenny. He was becoming something like a shop mascot, charming all the old ladies. He was right—Bina had become like a mother to him. More than that.





She had become the woman of this house.





He and Trey came into the kitchen now. Elsa got up from her place against the island and walked to the back door. Even Elsa had begun to follow Bina around, though she still slept every night with Trey and never shirked her nannying duties. Carlo went to let the dog out as Trey shrugged off his pack and climbed into his seat.





“What are we having for breakfast this morning, Mr. Trey?” Carlo smiled at Bina’s sweet voice behind him. She had mastered breakfast. Other meals were a bit more hit and miss, but he loved her for trying.





“Waffles, please. You should call me Trey. Mommies don’t say Mister. And you’re Misby. I decided. Like Mommy Ms. Bina. I already told Daddy.”





Primed for that by his earlier shock, Carlo turned to see Bina staring dumbly, her mouth open, at Trey, who was concentrating on his milk. She turned and met Carlo’s look. He grinned and winked—they’d talk later, but not in front of the boy, who was, Carlo thought, changing all their lives without even noticing.





“Um…Yes, if that’s what you’d like.”





“Yeah. I’m just Trey. Like Daddy says. But he calls me ‘pal,’ too. Don’t call me ‘pal.’ That’s just for Daddy.”





“Of course.” She cleared her throat, a dainty sound. “Waffles, yes?”





“With marple syrup, please.”





“They take longer, a little. Would you like some fruit first?”





“Um…I would like…a banana please.”





Carlo went over to the island, where there was a big stoneware bowl full of fruit. Bina stood next to it, pouring ingredients for waffle batter into a bowl shaped like a large measuring cup. He stood right behind her and leaned over for the bananas, and he took the opportunity to kiss her bare shoulder—she was wearing a pretty, sleeveless top—and whisper in her ear, “Remember that thing you were keeping safe for later? Would you consider taking it out and looking it over again?” He hoped she would remember that conversation, but so much had happened since the night of Trey’s birthday, he would understand if she didn’t.