Natasha froze, her forced smile faltering for just a second. Do I love him? What kind of question was that? Of course she loved him—or at least, she thought she did.
"Leo," she said, her voice soft but strained, "why would you ask me that? You're my baby. My sweet boy. Of course I love you."
Leo's brows furrowed, his little hands gripping his shirt tightly. "But you don't hug me like other moms. Or play with me. Or…" His voice trailed off, and his eyes darted to the floor.
Natasha's jaw tightened. Other moms? He was comparing her to other women now? She sighed, brushing his hair back. "Sweetheart, Mommy's just tired, okay? I've been working hard to make sure we're taken care of."
Leo didn't look convinced. "But Daddy doesn't hug me either. He doesn't even talk to me. Am I bad? Is that why Fiona left?"
Natasha's hand paused mid-stroke, her eyes narrowing. Fiona? Even when she wasn't here, she was still haunting her.
