Page 31 of Mafia Pregnancy

“Excellent advice. I think I’ll try the chocolate chip cookie dough.” I look at the teenager behind the counter. “Two scoops, please, and whatever Leo and his mom would like.”

“I want rainbow with sprinkles.” Leo bounces on his toes with excitement.

Danielle orders chocolate fudge swirl, and we find a small table by the window.

Leo chatters about his preschool and daily activities with Aunt Molly while Mama’s at work while I listen with fascination to every word.

His vocabulary is impressive for his age, and he has an animated way of telling stories that includes dramatic gestures and sound effects.

“And then Joel pushed Tamsyn off the swing, so I told him that wasn’t nice, and he should say sorry, but he didn’t want to, so Miss Jennifer had to talk to him about being kind to friends.” He finishes with a dramatic eye roll.

“That was very brave of you to stand up for Tamsyn,” I say seriously, meaning it. “It’s important to help people when they need it.”

Leo nods sagely. “Mama says we should always be kind to people who are smaller than us or who need help.”

I glance at Danielle, who’s been unusually quiet throughout this exchange. “Your mama sounds very wise.”

“She is. She knows everything.” Leo takes a big bite of his ice cream, getting rainbow streaks around his mouth. “She can fix anything that’s broken and makes the best pancakes and reads really good stories at bedtime.”

The pure adoration in his voice makes my chest ache. I’ve missed three and a half years of bedtime stories and scraped knees and proud moments. The loss feels staggering now that I’m sitting across from him, seeing what Danielle has built without me. “Do you like stories, Leo?”

“I love stories. Mama reads to me every night. Right now, we’re reading about a dragon who doesn’t want to be scary anymore, so he becomes a librarian instead.”

Despite her nervousness, she smiles at this. “Leo has very strong opinions about character development.”

“I think the dragon should keep some of his scary parts,” Leo says seriously. “Sometimes, you need to be a little scary to protect the books from people who might hurt them.”

The wisdom in his simple statement surprises me. “That’s a very good point. Sometimes, being a little scary can be protective rather than mean.”

Leo nods enthusiastically, and I’m completely charmed by his earnestness.

My son is intelligent, kind, and thoughtful—and I’ve missed every moment that made him who he is.

As we finish our ice cream, I steer the conversation toward territory I need to explore, no matter how much it might upset Danielle. “Leo, do you live nearby?”

“We live in the blue apartments with the pool.” He points vaguely in the direction of their complex. “Sometimes, Mama lets me swim if she’s not too tired.”

“That sounds wonderful. Do you live there with anyone else? Maybe your dad?”

Danielle tenses beside me. Leo’s expression grows more serious. “My daddy is gone,” he says simply. “Mama says he would have loved me very much if he could have stayed.”

I look at Danielle, whose face has gone pale. She won’t meet my gaze, instead focusing intently on wiping Leo’s face with a napkin.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Leo. That must be sad sometimes.”

He shrugs with the pliability children show about facts they’ve accepted as unchangeable.

“Sometimes, I wonder what he was like, but Mama says wondering is okay as long as it doesn’t make me too sad.

I have Mama, Aunt Molly, and Carmen, so I’m not lonely.

” He sends his mother a crafted look. “We don’t have a dog or cat though… ”

She stiffens for a moment before finishing wiping his face. “We would if our lease allowed it, Leo.”

He expresses disappointment with a shoulder slump. “Yeah, I know.”

The matter-of-fact way he discusses his father’s absence breaks something inside me.

Danielle has handled this conversation carefully, giving him just enough information to satisfy his curiosity without creating false hope.

For some reason, she’s even shielded me by not lying about me… or being too truthful.

“Your mama is right about that,” I say softly. “Wondering is natural, and it sounds like you have people who love you very much.”

“I do.” His brightness returns immediately. “Mama works really hard to take care of me, and Aunt Molly makes the best cookies in the whole world. Carmen is teaching me how to play the guitar, and you seem really nice too.”

The innocent acceptance in his voice nearly undoes me.

He has no idea he’s talking to his father, and no understanding of the complicated web of lies and choices that have kept us apart.

“It was wonderful meeting you too, Leo.” I extend my hand for a shake, and he takes it with endearing seriousness. “I hope I’ll see you again sometime.”

“Maybe you could come to dinner? Mama makes really good spaghetti, and I could show you my dinosaur collection.”

Danielle finally speaks, her voice strained. “Leo, Mr. Vetrov is very busy with important work. He probably doesn’t have time for dinosaur collections.”

“Actually, I love dinosaurs,” I say, looking directly at her. “And I’m never too busy for interesting conversations about paleontology.”

Leo’s eyes widen with excitement. “You know about dinosaurs too? Do you know about the really big ones that ate plants? Mama, he knows about dinosaurs.”

“That’s wonderful, sweetheart.” Danielle stands abruptly, gathering her purse and Leo’s backpack. “We should get home. It’s almost time for your bath.”

The dismissal is clear, but Leo protests. “But we were just getting to the good part. Mr. Vetrov was going to tell me about the plant-eating ones.”

“Another time, perhaps,” I say gently, though I catch Danielle’s sharp look at the suggestion. “Thank you both for letting me join you for ice cream. This was the best part of my day.”

And it was. Sitting in this simple ice cream shop, listening to my son talk about dragons and dinosaurs and the wisdom of three-year-old social justice, has been more meaningful than any business meeting or power play I’ve engaged in recently.

As we walk outside, Leo takes my hand with casual trust that makes my heart stop. “Mr. Vetrov, do you have kids?”

The question is innocent, but it hurts my heart as I navigate an answer that isn’t a lie. “I hope to soon.” My answer makes Danielle flinch and get pale again as she quickly looks away.

“You should. Kids are really fun, and you seem like you’d be a good dad. You listen really well, and you know about important stuff like dinosaurs.”

Danielle’s face goes even whiter at this pronouncement, and she quickly scoops up Leo. “Say goodbye, sweetheart. We really do need to get home.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Vetrov. Thank you for the ice cream.”

“Goodbye, Leo. Thank you for teaching me about the best flavors.” I watch them walk to their car, Leo chattering excitedly about our encounter while Danielle remains silent and tense.

Before they drive away, I catch her looking at me through the windshield, and the expression on her face is pure fear.

She knows that I know. The question is what she plans to do about it.

What do I plan to do about it?

As their car disappears around the corner, I stand in the parking lot processing everything I’ve learned. Leo is bright, caring, and has been raised with love and careful attention. Danielle has done an extraordinary job as a single mother, creating a stable, happy environment for our son.

Our son.

The certainty settles in my bones with finality. Leo is mine, and now that I’ve met him, the thought of losing him to Danielle’s fears or my enemies becomes unbearable. She’s right to be afraid. My world is dangerous and loving me puts them both at risk.

The question now is how can I find a way to be part of their lives without destroying what she’s built, because walking away is no longer an option?

Not after seeing Leo’s earnest face and hearing him call me nice.

Not after watching the trust he extended so easily and the way he lit up when we talked about dinosaurs.

I get back in my car and drive toward the estate, working through the conversation I need to have with Danielle.

She’s been protecting our son the only way she knew how, but her doing it alone is over.

We’re going to find a way to make this work, because I refuse to be the absent father Leo thinks is gone forever.

I refuse to be gone when I could be there for bedtime stories and dinosaur discussions and all the moments that make up a childhood.

Leo deserves better than that.

We all do.