Page 41 of Heated Takeover

“At all?” I ask, my voice normal. She holds her hand up and flat and then lowers it. “At all?” I echo in a whisper.

“No,” she says.

“Why not?” I ask. I am aware it probably isn’t any of my business, but I still find myself wanting to know. Because the child and his age and the time and everything else is…bothersome.

“I…uh met him at a coffee shop I used to frequent. He was an English major. A poet,” she says.

“Are you sure?” I ask.

“Am I sure he was a poet?” she asks. “Yes, I’m sure. He was always scribbling away in a notebook. And when he wasn’t, he was reciting poetry on the stage at the coffee shop. He was actually very good. Which probably explains why Jamie loves to read…”

“No,” I say. “I mean, are you sure this poet is the father?”

With that, her mouth pops open in disbelief, and her eyes narrow. Her entire expression looks offended.

“Yes, I’m sure he’s the father,” she snaps. “How dare you?”

“What was his name?”

“Matteo,” she answers very quickly. “I’m sorry, but like I said, this is none of your business. All that matters is that he is out of the picture and has no idea that he has a son.”

“Jamie’s father has no idea he has a son,” I recap.

“No,” she answers, and I study her for a moment before moving on.

“Alright. Well, that’s a shame,” I say, and it’s the first time since I brought it up that her expression cracks a little.

“Why?” she asks, and I arch an eyebrow.

“Why?” I ask. “Because. He’s his son.”

Natalie swallows and focuses on the job again, and I do my best to do the same. And eventually Jamie comes out from under the table, needing to go to the bathroom and wanting to see the fish tank on the bottom floor so he can see if Marcel is there.

“Who’s Marcel?” I ask as Natalie packs up Jamie’s things.

“The clownfish,” Jamie answers, rubbing his eyes.

“We can look for him for a couple minutes, but after that we are going home and you are going to take a nap,” Natalie says in that mom tone again.

“I thought the clownfish’s name was Nemo,” I say. I’m not sure why I say it, but I suddenly feel an intense need to be a part of this conversation. Jamie looks up at me.

“No. His name is Marcel. Not all clown fishes are Nemos.”

Natalie bites a small smile, and I do too. “Of course not,” I answer. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Chapter 17

Natalie

He knows.

There’s no way that he doesn’t know.

Marcus asked all the questions people usually do, and I told him the answers I tell everyone else, save for Dylan, of course. I told him about the writer and the coffee shop, and poetry. And I said it all without stuttering, blinking, or giving any indication at all that I am lying.

And yet…I feel like he knows.

If he did though, or does, Marcus didn’t give it away. He stayed professional and indifferent, which made things much, much easier. Jamie was sitting right there, so I am grateful for that. Luckily, Jamie is obsessed with his tablet because I don’t let him play games on screens very often. So when I do allow it, I am pretty sure a bomb could go off and he wouldn’t so much as look up.