Page 68 of Almost Paradise

“He’s so wonderful and sweet. He—”

“Grandma, come on!” Carter yells. Whatever Mom was going to say is forgotten and she rushes out of the office.

Chapter 37

Nia

I don’t care. I’ve played that mantra in my head for the past two days. I do not care. What exactly are my obligations here? Is it my job to make him feel better about his father? If he’s telling the truth, that is. That can’t possibly fall on me, but he’s been walking around like a wounded puppy since his mother left. She spent the night. She stayed and gave Carter a bath and read to him until he fell asleep. When I went to check on them, she was also fast asleep in the bed next to him. Drake threw a blanket over them and left.

Thosefew thingsshe said she bought Carter was a complete lie. She got him everything from toys to clothes to board games. She’s called every night since and promises to come back tomorrow.

Now, it’s time to wake up my son. He’s usually awake by now, running around the apartment giggling. He’s a happy kid. He always has been, but having Drake in his life has made him the happiest I’ve ever seen.

“Mama’s baby,” I say as I open his door. He’s in the middle of the bed, and the sheets have been thrown off. He’s stirring, but even from here I can tell something is not right.

He groans and I put my hand to his forehead. He’s warm.

“Hi, Mommy,” he says, but he grimaces.

“Does your throat hurt, baby?” He nods at me and sits up. I pull him into me and he rests his head on my chest. We sit like this while I rub his back like I always do when he’s sick.

“Hey, how about some breakfast?” Drake comes in, and he stops short when he sees us. I do too. He’s in a pair of shorts, and that’s it. His bare, sweaty chest glistens, and I lick my lips. He would do pushups with me on his back in this home gym. Then we’d fuck on the floor like two wild animals. It was the perfect way to start the day.

“He’s sick,” I say to Drake, reluctantly looking away from his body. “Why don’t you go use the bathroom, and then I’ll take your temperature,” I tell Carter.

Drake takes him from me and feels his forehead. When he feels his glands, Carter giggles uncontrollably. While Drake helps him in the bathroom, I go to the guestroom and get my first aid kit.

It’s never a big deal for me to take a sick day. My manager is a mom of three, and she understands better than anyone that kids get sick. I sent her a text that Carter has a hundred-degree temperature, and she replied back to take care of him.

He’s a healthy kid, but he does tend to get sick about twice a year, usually around this time. I expect Drake to go to work and leave my sick son to me, but that doesn’t happen.

After taking his temperature, he picks Carter up and takes him to the kitchen where he tries to feed him breakfast, but our son tends to lose his appetite when he’s not feeling well.

“I’m taking a sick day today,” I tell Drake. I take a grumpy Carter from him, and he wraps his legs around me. “You can go get ready for work. How about some yogurt for Mama’s baby,” I say to Carter.

“I’ll work from home,” Drake says. “He’s my son too.” His voice sounds terse, and because I’m not in the mood to fight with him, I ignore Drake and feed Carter yogurt and strawberries. When he’s done eating, Drake scoops him up and takes him upstairs without a word to me.

After cleaning the kitchen and making myself a cappuccino I go upstairs to tend to my son. I take a long sip of my drink and exhale in satisfaction, but I know my joy will be short-lived when I see Drake walking out of the master bedroom. His face looks hard as granite, and his lips are pursed shut. I’m not sure what I could have done to merit the anger radiating off his body this early in the day.

“I don’t appreciate what you did downstairs,” he whispers. Not in the mood for a confrontation or a fight, I try to go around him, but he blocks me.

“What? Feed my son breakfast?” I roll my eyes at him.

“Ourson,” he corrects.

“What the hell is your problem?” I ask, frustrated.

“You dismissed me and my concern.”

“How on earth did I do that?”

“By assuming I’d be going to work. He’s my son too. I love him. I’m worried about him, but you don’t give a damn about that. All you care about is yourself.”

“Really, Drake? All I care about is myself because I assumed you’d be going to work so you can run your conglomerate? Yeah, I’m awful.” I dismiss him with a wave of my hand and try to go around him. Again, he blocks me, and if this cappuccino was not hitting the spot, I’d throw it in his face. “Can you please move so I can go check on my sick son?”

“He’s not just your son,” he hisses.

“It’s funny how you remember that now,” I taunt.

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