Vortex by Catherine Coulter

Sean

The Savich Home, Georgetown

Washington, D.C.

Sunday

Mama smelled like roses. Sean snuggled against her, felt her heart beat steadily against his cheek. She was home, here with him and Papa. She’d called him every single day, told him how much she missed him, and loved him, but it just wasn’t the same thing. He burrowed closer, felt her arm tighten around him. He was full of popcorn, worn out because he’d thrown a zillion pieces of popcorn to Astro until he told Papa his arm was going to fall off. Astro was already asleep, on his back, all four paws in the air, in front of the fireplace.

Sean heard an ember pop, felt his mama jump at the unexpected sound, give a quiet laugh. He heard her talk about someone named Serena, and she sounded sad. Then she said in her mad voice that even getting justice would never be enough, and he heard his papa agree. They were whispering now and Sean wondered if Papa was going to kiss her again. Sometimes he’d kiss her, then pick him up and kiss him, too, and Astro would jump around barking his head off, wanting a kiss, too.

Sean heard Papa say something about Olivia, and he recognized her name. He’d heard his papa speaking to her on his cell phone. At least he sounded pleased, and not so sad like Mama. And he said she was getting married to Mike on Aruba, wherever that was, and laughed.

Astro snored, Sean heard him, and smiled. “Mama?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“I’m glad you’re home. Papa really missed you.”

“Did you miss me, too, Sean?”

Sean squeezed her as tight as he could. “Maybe I missed you more than Papa did. He said nothing felt right when you weren’t here. Do you know he gave Astro Cheerios?”

Sherlock laughed, whispered against his cheek, “Nothing ever feels right to me either when I’m away from you and your papa.”

Sean felt her kiss his forehead as he slipped into sleep.