Vivica was practically doubled over in silent laughter. She had been so busy lately that she’d had less time to spend with her son, who was now mostly with Sheridan and Melanie. In just a few weeks, his vocabulary had exploded.
Joseph felt a bit embarrassed. Not wanting to be outsmarted by a three-year-old, he made a firm commitment. “Tomorrow night. I promise I’ll read you a story tomorrow night.”
“Hmph. If you’re lying, I’m telling Grandma and Grandpa on you.”
“Deal. Now, get some sleep, Chaim.”
Joseph desperately wanted to ask what his mother was doing, but he bit his tongue. The boy had been talking to him for a while now, and she hadn’t made a single sound, as if she wasn’t even there. After all the help he’d given her, she could at least say hello.
The thought cast another shadow over his mood.
“Okay, goodnight, Uncle Joseph.” Chaim was about to hang up, but he suddenly lifted the watch back to his mouth. “Oh, and Mommy was worried about you too, but she was too shy to call you herself, so she made me—mmph!”
Vivica hadn't expected her son to betray her at the last second. She lunged forward and clamped a hand over his mouth, quickly ending the call.
Chaim giggled from under her hand. “What’s wrong, Mommy?”
Vivica pretended to be annoyed. “What do you think is wrong? What did I tell you? You weren’t supposed to mention me to Uncle Joseph. You did that on purpose.”
“I did,” Chaim said proudly. “It’s because I’m in my rebellious phase. I do the opposite of what grown-ups say.”
Vivica didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Meanwhile, in his own home, Joseph stared at his phone, his son’s words echoing in his mind: “Mommy was worried about you too.” The gloom that had settled over him began to lift.
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