Chapter 6
Vic glanced in the rearview mirror for the third time in two minutes.
He watched Kian in his booster seat, his legs swinging while he tried to sing along with the current song on the radio.
Vic smiled and turned it up a bit. It was a great song, and he loved how his son was enjoying an oldie-but-goodie rock song.
The kid was still riding high on the Monsters game from last night, and honestly?
So was Vic.
Nothing beat watching your son scream at a hockey ref like he had played the game himself for years.
I’ve created a mini sports fanatic, he thought.
Good. He could live with that.
His phone buzzed through the car’s hands-free connection, and the dashboard screen lit up with the incoming call.
Mom.
Of course she’d be calling right now. He’d left the office a little early so he could pick up Kian from school as he’d promised. She’d probably tried to reach him there and was told he’d left for the day.
“Hey, Mom,” Vic answered.
“You’re picking Kian up again?” she asked instead of greeting him back.
Nancy Maxwell’s voice always held an aristocratic edge to it.
She had been born with a silver spoon technically, but one would assume she’d seriously come out of the womb holding one.
“Victor, darling. You can just hire someone to pick him up. You have a company to run. You can’t do that if you keep leaving early to play chauffeur to a four-year-old. ”
“Mom, this is important to me. It doesn’t take long anyway. Twenty minutes, tops.” Vic rubbed his forehead. They’d had this conversation before, and it never got through to her that this was something he valued with his son.
“But it doesn’t have to be.” She sighed dramatically.
He rolled his eyes, thankful she couldn’t see him.
“I just worry that you’re stretching yourself thin. With all of the work that you are doing, it could be too much.”
“I’m his father. I can pick him up from school if I want to, which I do.” His eye twitched. He slowed the vehicle to a stop at a red light. Today, they were lucky. It was a warm day for fall. The weatherman had called for a chilly day, but Mother Nature had decided otherwise.
“Yes, I know that. I mean, you don’t have to do everything. It’s perfectly normal for someone of your standing to—”
“Standing,” he muttered. “Mom, no one gives a damn if I go pick up my child from school or not, except you.”
“Well, someone has to. Especially now that Sydney’s gone.” She gave a dramatic pause.
He knew she was going to find some way to bring his ex up.
“I really wish the two of you would have worked out. She was good for you, kept you grounded.”
He frowned at the remark. Sydney was not a person he would say was grounded. She was like his mother, born into money. She may say her passion was to help the less fortunate but she sure couldn’t relate to them.
“She was controlling,” he shot back.
“Polished,” Nancy stressed.
“She got on my nerves.”
“She made you look very good in photos.”
“That is not a quality one looks for in marriage, Mother,” he replied dryly. The light changed, and he pressed his foot on the gas. They were close to Tachina’s home.
“It certainly doesn’t hurt to have—”
“Dad,” Kian called out. “Is Grammy talking about Miss Sydney again?”
“Mom, I’m going to hang up.” Vic sighed. He didn’t want to have this type of conversation where his son was apparently listening.
“Well, bring the boy over for dinner sometime. We haven’t seen him in a while,” his mother snipped.
Vic rolled his eyes again. She’d just seen Kian a week ago, but he didn’t remind her of that. It would lead to more of her demands of him.
“We’re here,” he lied. Even though they had about another mile until they arrived. “I’ll talk to you later.”
He hit the ‘end’ button before she could respond.
“Grammy likes Miss Sydney,” Kian said.
“Yeah, I know,” Vic muttered.
His mother never let him forget how much she thought of him and Sydney together. She had been ecstatic when he and Sydney had gone on their first date. By the second one, she had already started talking planning a wedding.
“Is Miss Sydney coming back?” Kian asked.
Vic winced at that last question. He couldn’t say what he really wanted to say to his four-year-old. So he kept it PG.
“Miss Sydney and I are just going to be friends.”
That seemed to pacify his son who started singing along with the latest song on the radio again. Vic blew out deep breath, happy that Kian didn’t ask any other questions regarding Sydney.
They soon approached Tachina’s street. His pulse spiked, which was ridiculous. It was just dropping Kian off at home and having an adult conversation about trying for another baby.
Totally normal Tuesday afternoon discussion between two people.
He parked and snagged Kian’s backpack then helped Kian out of the truck. They walked up to the door. Before Vic could ring the doorbell, Kian banged on the door and shouted.
“Mom! We’re here!”
Vic chuckled and still pressed the button. A few moment’s later, the door swung open, and there she was.
Those oversized bear slippers were on her feet, her hair perfectly angled to brush her shoulders, but she didn’t have makeup on.
She was a natural beauty, and it was no wonder where Kian got his good looks from.
She wore black yoga pants and an oversized off-the-shoulder t-shirt with Prince on it.
That outfit should not have caused his brain to short-circuit, but it did.
“Hey, baby!” she said, her smile large. She ruffled Kian’s light-brown curls as he slammed into her for a hug. She gave him a big squeeze then turned her attention to him. “Hey, Vic. Come in.”
The house smelled amazing. He didn’t know what she was cooking, but it had his stomach growling. It smelled of spices, tomato, then there was a hint of sweetness that accompanied it.
“I hope you are hungry. I put chili on in the crockpot this morning before I left for work.”
He stepped into the house and shut the door. He hung up Kian’s bag on the hook by the door. Kian bolted past her and headed toward the kitchen.
“Yay!” Kian pumped his little hand in the air.
“Go wash your hands first!” she said.
“Okay.” Kian skidded to a halt halfway down the hall and darted toward the bathroom.
Vic followed her toward the kitchen. A stupid warmth gathered in his chest. The one he’d been feeling more lately around her. He wasn’t sure why.
But it scared him a little.
She stood over by the crockpot and stirred the chili. She nodded to the sink.
“You can wash up there,” she said.
“Thanks.” He moved over to the sink and washed his hands.
She fixed his plate like she used to do on nights when he’d stop by to check in when Kian was a baby. Déjà vu hit him hard as he dried his hands. She handed him his bowl with a small smile. He had to admit this felt…right. It almost seemed like a normal life. Something he hadn’t realized he wanted.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Grab some glasses and the lemonade out the fridge,” she said.
He did as she’d asked and again, he was hit with a feeling he wasn’t used to. He helped set the table, taking a seat just as Kian reappeared.
“Dad, you’re staying?” Kian climbed into his chair at the table. The look of happiness was blaring on his face at the aspect of Vic staying.
“Yeah, bud. Mom and I needed to talk about a few things.” His gaze went over to Tachina.
She moved around the kitchen getting her and Kian’s food prepared. She brought over their bowls and set them down.
“Hold on. Almost forgot,” she murmured. She came back to the table with a warming pad and popped it on the table, placing a cast-iron skillet on top of it.
The sweetness of the cornbread greeted Vic.
She sat at the table, grinning wide. She turned to Kian. “Can you say grace, big man?”
“Yup.” Kian pressed his hands together and bowed his head. “Dear God. Thank you for my mommy and thank you for my daddy and for my toys and Mr. Blankie. Amen.”
Vic should have closed his eyes and lowered his head, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the two of them. Tachina was a fabulous mother, and she was raising their son to be one hell of a man. She was instilling values in Kian that would be with him the rest of his life.
“Amen. Good job, baby.” Tachina reached over squeezed Kian’s plump cheeks.
“Mom, this isn’t that dry cornbread?” Kian paused before digging into his food.
Tachina barked a laugh and shook her head. “No, it is not. Now eat.”
“Dry one?” Vic raised an eyebrow. He took a piece of the bread and plopped it down in his bowl.
“My grandmother, Marjorie, God rest her soul, was from Aniston, Alabama. Her cornbread was not sweet like mine. One day, my dad had requested that I make it because he was missing her cooking and he knew she had taught me her recipe. Kian had some of it and practically threw it up.” She chuckled.
“Dad, it was nasty.” Kian made a face.
Vic laughed.
They began eating the meal. The conversation was always driven by Kian who was sharing his day with them. Tachina and Vic laughed at his stories. Vic loved this time with Kian and listening to him. He wished his father would have had moments with him like this growing up.
But Graham Maxwell had spent all of his time building up the empire that Vic now ran.
His thoughts turned to the times he’d sat at his own table with Kian and Sydney for dinner. Sydney had insisted that the chef come every day to cook lavish meals for them. Tony had been very thoughtful and would make Kian kid-friendly meals.
But the conversations hadn’t flowed like this.
Vic enjoyed the meal immensely. His gaze kept going over to Tachina who offered him a small smile when she caught him staring.
“I’m full. Can I go watch TV?” Kian was already getting down from the table. For what it was worth, the kid had put away a decent amount of the food he’d been given.
“Sure, and don’t climb on the couch arms,” Tachina said.
“Okay!” Kian shouted as he raced off.