Page 77

Instead, my brain stays glued to the bee-obsessed honey trap who’s living rent-free in my property and in my head.
This fucking blows.
Mom grins at me from the other side of the living room as Rina babbles over how tall and handsome and smart Colt is. He’s too old to enjoy anyone fussing over him, but I guess because it’s his mom, he takes it in stride.
“You’ve gotten so big. You’re going to be taller than your dad in another year or two,” she tells him for the fifth time.
“Uh, we’ll see. I’m still growing.”
“You’ll make it. Your uncles are tall guys too. If you want a break from trying to blow yourself up in labs, you should try modeling.” She reaches over and ruffles his hair.
“Mom, stop. Jeez. I wouldn’t be caught dead doing a runway walk.”
I force a smile even though the sound of her voice feels like a cheese grater on my soul. The sooner we’re done with this farce, the better.
“Did I tell you about my carvings?” he asks, grabbing his phone and scrolling through his camera roll. “Dad helps me a lot.”
Rina shoots me a look like she can’t believe I’d help develop his passions. I glare back at her flatly.
He’s my son. For him, I’ll stand around at the most boring-ass art fairs all day.
Thankfully, wood carving is far from dull. It keeps the mind and hands busy, and I have to admit Colt’s gotten pretty damn good.
“Oh, wow! Colt, honey…” She takes the phone and looks at the screen. “You made all of these birds?”
“Those are my early ones, yeah. Look, here’s one I finished last week.”
It’s a small wooden fox. The ears were the hardest part; the boy was in a panic for two weeks thinking they’d break off if he shaved them too thin.
Her eyes widen, and her reaction sets something off in my gut.
It could’ve been so different.
If she’d just been here, taking an interest in his life before now, she would haveknownabout his art.
Just like she’d know he plows through advanced math well beyond his grade and he eats up everything related to science. She’d know he’s a regular at Mom’s art shows and we even started hiring out a table to sell his carvings in the summer.
People buy his stuff, too. I let him keep most of the profits for a little spending money and throw the rest into his college savings account.
I may be rich enough to make his future education a rounding error in my accounts, yes, but a kid should always have some of their own skin in the game.
Also, this is all new to Rina because she’s been an absentee mother for almost his entire life, only popping in when she feels like it with a gift and an unfulfilled promise of more to come.
More presents, more pop ins, moreher.
To no one’s surprise, it never happens.
“Is that a cardinal?” she asks, beaming from ear to ear.
“Yep! I made it for Grandma.” Colt smiles too, all pride as he glances at Mom, who watches with the usual indulgent smile she reserves for her grandkids.
“Lucky Gram,” Rina says, keeping her smile pinned in place. “Do you think you could make something for me?”
For a second, he hesitates.
This is actually pissing me off, the chance that this could be some new head game.
“Uh, sure. What would you want?”