After arriving home, I found Dixon already sprawled on the couch, glued to the football game.
“Don’t you ever get tired of watching football?” I asked, rolling my eyes as I settled Angelo into his booster seat.
“Mama catoon!” Angelo chirped, bouncing in his seat.
“Dixon, can you put Tom and Jerry on for Angelo?” I called from behind the fridge.
“But the game just started!” he protested.
“No cry, baby,” I cooed, scooping Angelo into my arms.
“Dixon!” I snapped.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and, with a sigh, pulled up a Tom and Jerry cartoon on YouTube. “Look, Angie,” he said, handing the phone over.
“For God’s sake, stop calling my son Angie! He’s still a boy,” I scolded, swatting playfully at the back of Dixon’s head.
“Ouch!” he yelped, grinning. “Sweetie, don’t drop Uncle’s phone, okay?”
Angelo was a year and a half old. “Ah ah, open your mouth,” I said, attempting to feed him.
“Good boy,” I smiled. My baby never refused food—he’d definitely gotten that from his mother.
“Alright, Mama Bear, where’s my food?” Dixon asked, leaning against the kitchen counter. He wasn’t gay, despite what some people might think.
“Do I look like a chef to you?” I retorted.
“Yup, a very hot chef,” he smirked.
“I don’t know where you see ‘hot’ because I’m not,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Let’s order something to eat,” he suggested.
“Pizza?”
“Nah, I think you can order pasta for me,” he said, walking towards the couch with Angelo by my side.
“Alright, boss.”
“No, Angelo, you already ate a while ago.”
He pouted, his full lips trembling. He knew I couldn’t resist that face. “Okay, baby, you win.”
He smiled happily as I fed him pasta. “My cute little prince,” I murmured, watching him dance with delight.
I glanced at the clock—8:00 PM. Where had the time go? Angelo was fast asleep in my arms, his hand tangled in my hair. He always did this when he slept. My precious son.
I carefully laid him in his crib and lay down beside him. He snuggled closer, sucking on his pacifier. I hugged him and drifted off to sleep.
—————-
“Good morning, ma’am,” the babysitter greeted politely. I nodded and handed Angelo over. He wiggled in her arms and reached for me.
“Mama!” he cried.
He didn’t like his babysitter much.
“Sweetie, Mama has to go to work today,” I said, trying to calm him, but he couldn’t stop crying.
I took him back from her arms, and he instantly quieted. “Do you want to come to work with Mama?”
He nodded enthusiastically, his cheeks puffed.
“Alright, my baby,” I said, kissing his cheek. Angelo was my weakness—I’d do anything to prevent his tears.
“Sara, you’re coming with me to the office,” I said, turning to the babysitter.
“Okay, Ms. Silver.” Sara was a nineteen-year-old student babysitting to earn money for her studies.
“Good morning,” my driver greeted as he opened the back door.
“Good morning,” I replied, Angelo still in my arms.
The drive to the office took a while.
————-
“Ms. Silver, someone wants to meet you at 10:30 AM,” my PA said, consulting her schedule. I checked my watch—10:15 AM. “Tell him to meet me in my office,” I said, dismissing her.
“Sara, can you give Angelo a tour of the office?”
“Of course, ma’am.”
As they left, a man, probably in his fifties, entered. He looked vaguely familiar.
“Please have a seat,” I said, gesturing to the chairs before my desk.
“Good morning. I’m Mr. Juan D’Cruz, owner of D’Cruz and Co.,” he said, shaking my hand.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Ms. Mia Silver, CEO of this company,” I replied, shaking his hand.
He explained his company’s potential deal with mine, but his voice stopped when Angelo and Sara walked through the door. I stood up and saw that Angelo was crying. My anger flared. “What happened?” I demanded.
“M-ms-s he fell and knocked his head on the wall,” Sara stuttered, terrified.
I glared at her, then my eyes softened as I held my crying baby. I scooped him into my arms and kissed his wound. “Shhh…my baby, it’s alright,” I cooed.
“Bring me some ice right now!” I told Sara coldly. I had completely forgotten about Mr. D’Cruz. I saw him walking towards me, looking at Angelo with shock.
“Who is this?” he asked, stroking Angelo's cheek.
“My son,” I told him.
“Can I hold him for a second?”
“No,” I answered sharply. He smiled at Angelo and kissed his cheek. “How dare you kiss my son without my permission!” I said, wiping his cheek.
Mr. D’Cruz looked hurt as I wiped Angelo's cheek.
“I’ll go now,” he said, giving Angelo one last glance.
Angelo cuddled into my chest, his hand tangled in my hair.
“What’s wrong with him?” I asked after he left.