Chapter 30
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I giggle, shaking my head at the boy. As they walk out of sight, I look down at the hefty wad of notes in my hands, still stunned by what happened. Despite being scared stiff when faced with such an imposing king, I realize he was just a parent trying desperately to protect his son–even if this meant hiring mysterious strangers from cafés.
Moving toward the counter, I take what Max spent out, plus a tip before placing the rest in the charity jar. Meredith
organizes weekly food runs to the local neighborhood centers for the homeless rogues.
“Brielle ?” Meredith says, shocked.
I hold up the few notes I have to show her. I didn’t put it all in there, knowing she would try to sneak it back to me, the woman is too honest.
“Take it, I’ve felt bad since working here that I haven’t been able to put a cent in there,” I tell her. She smiles sadly.
“You’re too sweet, my dear.” she murmurs. “At least take this to get your grandmother’s air tanks.”
I show her I already took a tip from the money he gave me.
“I knew you’d say that, see Granny’s medication and tanks are covered.”
I show her, and she sighs with relief.
The rest of the week passes in a blur of coffee, laughter, and
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repeated visits from Max. Each encounter with King Soren leaves me with a sense of dread. I know if I don’t register soon, he’ll start asking questions. Hopefully, he forgets because I have my own life to manage, a life that’s becoming increasingly complicated by the day with Max’s constant attention.
1
- Soren
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After once again having to retrieve my son from the cafe, I watch him draw at my desk, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth as he hastily scribbles. I’m at my wit’s end. He is out of control, but I know it’s my own fault. I don’t give him enough attention, and I’m always too busy. And he has gotten worse since my mother left after visiting last. Brielle’s image haunts my thoughts. There’s something about her, something that isn’t just captivating Max. I find myself wanting to know more about her too, to understand the woman who has captivated my son.
I can’t help but think about how effortlessly she connected with Max. It was as if she had some sort of magnetic pull over him, drawing him in with her warmth and charm. This feeling of being captivated by Brielle has only grown stronger since she found him that day at the park, and the guilt that I haven’t been there for my son is gnawing at me like an insatiable hunger.
Max, on the other hand, is oblivious to my struggles, his eyes glued to the page as he continues to draw, his tongue still poking out the side of his mouth. I wonder if I could ever measure up to Brielle, who seems to understand him on a level I can’t quite reach. Max always seems to be smiling when
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Chapter 30
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she is near, something I don’t see much of since we lost his mother. The thought of Brielle is both a comfort and a source of pain, as I’m torn between wanting her to fill the void in our home for Max and fearing how it might affect my relationship with my son if I did force her here.
As I watch Max scribble away, I can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy towards the woman. The thought of her spending time with my son, filling the gaps I’ve left in our lives, only serves to remind me of my own shortcomings. I know I need to find a way to reconnect with Max, to regain his trust and show him that I still care, even if it means setting aside my
own fears and insecurities.
As I contemplate these thoughts, Max finally looks up from his work, a gleaming smile on his face. “Hey, Dad, check this out!” he exclaims, proudly presenting his drawing to me. I can’t help but smile, too, as I take in the picture of a childlike wonderland filled with vibrant colors and fantastical creatures. At that moment, I realize that I need to make a conscious effort to be there for my son, to give him the love and attention he deserves, and to be the father he needs me to be.
Yet he reminds me so much of my late wife, everything in this castle does, I have thrown myself into work and forgot I once had a life here, yet doing nothing only brings the torment of the memories. At least while busy my mother tends to leave me alone instead of harassing me constantly about
remarrying.
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