Saving Alyssa

by Loree Lough

  Billie wanted to cry. She put too much wasabi on a sushi to hide it. “All right,” she said around a bite, “I admit it. I have…I have feelings for Noah. But I can’t give him a sign.”

  “Why not?”

  Because, she thought, one night—probably soon—he would simply disappear without a word, the way he’d left everything and everyone in Chicago. Here one minute and gone the next, like the fog that clung to the rocky banks of the Patapsco.

  Troy nodded. “I get it. It’s a leap of faith. A big one. After what Chuck did to you, I can see why you’re leery. But the only thing Noah has in common with that self-centered jerk you married is…” Troy paused, then said, “I was going to say gender is the only thing they have in common. But Chuck is not a man.”

  Billie blotted her eyes.

  “Told you that wasabi was powerful. Maybe someday you’ll listen to me.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Go for it, kid. What do you have to lose?”

  Nothing. Everything. Billie sighed and dipped another California roll into another deliberately huge dollop of wasabi, let the tears come…and blamed them on the sauce.

  *

  “I KNOW IT’S last minute, so if you’re busy, I understand.”

  Billie couldn’t believe her ears. Noah Preston, inviting her to Alyssa’s birthday party tomorrow, and thinking she might have other plans. It was almost laughable.

  She could play it cool. Pretend there was something on her calendar that she’d have to rearrange. Decline, to reinforce the “That’ll teach you to make me an afterthought!” attitude. But she’d never been any good at those silly, passive-aggressive games. Life was complicated enough without trying to control others. Relationships shouldn’t be that much work, either.

  “I wouldn’t miss it,” she said. “What can I bring?”

  “Just your pretty self.”

  He made a noise—something between a groan and a cough. Proof that a little unintended truth had slipped out, and he didn’t know how to react to it?

  “It’s funny you called, because I was going to call you, to ask when I could bring her present.”

  “You didn’t need to get her anything. That kid has more toys than she knows what to do with.”

  Billie heard the grin in his voice, and it touched that sweet, warm spot in her heart. “Of course I did. I love you guys.”

  She slapped a hand over her mouth and hoped she hadn’t made the same “oops, what have I said” noise he’d just made.

  “You okay with burgers and dogs on the grill?”

  “Sure. I’ll make my world-famous potato salad. Who else is coming, so I know how much to make?”

  “Half a dozen kids from Alyssa’s class and a parent or three. Bud, Troy, Max… I know it seems too cold outside to grill, but there’s a method to my madness. I’m not good with small talk, and the deck isn’t big enough for that many people.”

  So, she thought, a real party, then, and not just something thrown together on the fly.

  “Did you already order the cake?”

  She heard his hiss of frustration. “Darn. I knew I was forgetting something.”

  “Relax. You worry about the paper plates and plastic utensils—”

  “Sheesh…”

  He’d forgotten those, too? Well, he had time to pick some up.

  “—and I’ll bake the cake.”

  “You’d do that?”

  Anything for you, Noah, Nate…whatever your name is.

  “It’ll be fun, dragging out my decorating tools.”

  “Thanks. See you at—”

  She looked at the receiver to check the reception, which was dumb, because he’d called her house phone.

  “Um, see you at three. And thanks, Billie. You’re a sweetheart. Thank you.”

  Sweetheart, indeed, Billie thought as he hung up. She grabbed her keys and headed for her parking pad out back, thinking idiot is more like it. She and Noah didn’t even have a relationship, yet here she was, feeling hurt and rejected. Which was ridiculous and unfair, since he hadn’t made any promises.

  Maybe she had become one of those women that stylists and their customers talked about at the hair salon, the kind who ignore the signs of trouble and plow ahead when things go awry, determined to make the impossible work. She’d be the one all her friends and relatives tried to match up with their coworkers, bachelor neighbors and recently widowed former schoolmates.

  The errands, at least, would divert her attention from what promised to be a strange and sad future. By hitting the grocery store while most people were eating supper, she could get in and out with the ingredients for the cake and potato salad, some balloons and streamers, and still get home by six. While the cake was in the oven, she’d start the potato salad, and while the spuds were boiling, she’d make baked beans. Barring unexpected interruptions, she’d have everything ready before she turned in for the night.

  What a joke, Billie thought, grabbing a cart. She’d probably lie awake all night, wondering if they’d have any time alone together while she decorated and got the buffet table set up for Alyssa’s guests.

  As predicted, Billie logged three, maybe four hours sleep. But she didn’t feel the least bit tired. Too excited, she guessed, about performing duties that could be described as wifely and motherly. She showered and took her time with her hair and makeup. Took her time choosing an outfit, too. If this turned out to be the last time Noah saw her, she wanted the memory to be lasting…and positive.

  She packed the car with everything she’d bought and baked and cooked, and drove to Noah’s. He’d offer to help carry things, but he wasn’t physically ready for climbing and toting. Smiling to herself, Billie wondered how long she had to put her birthday decorating plan into motion.

  Her Uggs boots—soft, warm and quiet—allowed her to dart up the steps without making much noise. As she reached the landing, she made a mental note to sweep and salt the steps, just as soon as she’d put the groceries away, to keep Alyssa’s guests from slipping. Then Billie would put Alyssa to work, tying helium balloons to the chair backs and weaving crepe paper streamers through the railing pickets. And Noah? He could help hang the Happy Birthday banner and—

  A peculiar sound stopped her in her tracks. Billie didn’t move, scarcely breathed, trying to identify its cause and source. Craning her neck, she peeked between the spindles. She saw Noah’s shoes first…then dark blue socks and the rust-colored stitches that hemmed his jeans. Billie didn’t need to see more to know he was crying.

  Every womanly instinct said, “Get up there and comfort him!” But common sense—and lessons learned from being raised with two older brothers—stopped her. Noah was a proud man who’d gone to extremes to protect his privacy. If she went up there now, he’d only resent her for witnessing his temporary weakness.

  Billie took care, heading back down the staircase. She opened the car door, then intentionally slammed it with every bit of power she could muster. Might as well grab some of the groceries, she thought, as long as she was down here. So she made lots of noise opening and closing the trunk, too.

  It wasn’t easy, stomping back upstairs in her soft-soled Uggs, but she managed to produce an audible thump with every slow step. She wanted to give him as much time as possible to pull himself together.

  “Hi,” she said, forcing cheeriness into her voice that she didn’t feel. She wanted to know what had happened to cause his tears. “What are you doing out here in the cold?” she asked. “You’ll catch your death!”

  He didn’t answer, but held the door open instead. Billie hurried inside, wondering if after-accident pain had driven him outside in the snow….

  “Just one more trip,” she told him on the way back down.

  She decided to talk. A lot. About the party and the guests. About the weather. About anything that would distract him from the pain. When she returned with the last of the food and decorations, Noah closed the door behind her, and after hanging their jackets on the hall tree, began po
king into the packages lining his counter.

  “What’s all this?” he asked. “I thought you were just bringing a cake and some potato salad.”

  “Can I help it if the cooking-baking bug bit me?” She hid her amusement by sticking her head in the fridge, pretending to look for places to store everything until party time.

  “Guess I forgot to tell you what time the party starts.”

  “Three o’clock, right?”

  “Right…”

  “I’m early, I know. I just thought you might need a hand setting things up. Answering the door. Keeping the kids corralled while you’re outside grilling.”

  She shut the fridge door and started unpacking the decorations as Alyssa ran up and wrapped her arms around Billie’s waist.

  “I’m so glad you’re here!” the little girl said.

  “Me, too.”

  It was hard to believe she’d started out disliking this kid, that in the beginning, she hadn’t wanted to like her. Now? Now she looked forward to the enthusiastic greetings and surprisingly exuberant hugs, and it felt so good, knowing that every time she blurted “I love you!” she meant it. Billie didn’t know how to define her feelings for Alyssa, but she cared. Deeply.

  When Noah left—if Noah left—she wouldn’t worry about him. He was a full-grown man who’d proved himself very capable of taking care of himself. Alyssa, on the other hand, needed more than his protection. She needed stability. A woman’s guidance. A mother’s love. And Billie wanted to provide it. If that was love, so be it. Adjusting to life without Noah would be hard. Adjusting to life without Alyssa…

  Billie shook off the horrible thought.

  “Want to help me decorate?”

  “Yes!”

  She showed Alyssa what to do, then looked for Noah. She found him at the window of his room, left hand tucked into his side pocket, right fingers wrapped around the curve of his cane. Billie walked up beside him, linked her arm through his.

  “Hey.”

  He looked down at her. “Hey, yourself.”

  “You feeling okay?”

  “Better, now that you’re here.”

  In the past, Billie had prided herself on being decisive. When she made a promise, she kept it. When she chose to do something, she did it, and she never knowingly started things she couldn’t finish. Trying to save her marriage to Chuck had been proof of that. Since meeting Noah, though, only one word described her: fickle.

  Not ten minutes ago, she’d had every intention of talking nonstop to keep his mind off his troubles. But now she thought talking was exactly what he needed to do.

  “I don’t want to pry, Noah—and I know everyone says this—but I’m a good listener. And when I give my word to keep things to myself, I do.”

  Noah nodded. “I believe you.” He looked out the window again. “Don’t worry. I’ll snap out of it before everybody gets here.”

  Snap out of what? she wondered. His fingers opened and closed, opened and closed around the grip of his cane. She rested her free hand atop his knuckles.

  “Are you in any pain?”

  “Not the kind you think.” He focused on their hands, and without looking up, said, “Any of that stuff on the counter need refrigeration?”

  Billie knew a dismissal when she heard one. But she didn’t intend to give up just yet.

  “Only the potato salad. And the whipped cream.”

  “Why do we need whipped cream?”

  “Can’t have strawberry shortcake without it.”

  “Strawberry shortcake? For a little girl’s birthday party?”

  “Of course not. The cake with the roses and fancy trim is for the party. I made the shortcake for you.”

  His brows drew together slightly. And then he stared out the window again. “I prefer mine plain.”

  “I think there’s some kind of law against that.”

  He looked at her again.

  She almost said, “I guess as a former D.A., you’d know the law.” Instead, Billie said, “Well, guess I’d better get the perishables into the fridge.” She didn’t know what to make of the way he was looking at her.

  “Don’t worry. I’ve almost snapped out of it,” he whispered, gently grasping her upper arm.

  “Almost?”

  “Guy can’t enjoy his kid’s party,” he said, turning her slightly, “with a thank-you hanging over his head.”

  “I wouldn’t let self-pity ruin my kid’s party.”

  He took a half step closer. “And I apologize for not thanking you. For coming over here early, baking the cake, bringing side dishes and party decorations.”

  “Sure you did. Last night. On the phone. Twice. Three times, even.” She raised her eyebrows. “Remember?”

  His arm slid around her waist and he pulled her close, so close that she could feel his heart beating hard against her chest.

  Noah buried his face in her hair. “If only,” he whispered, and then leaned back to study her face for a long, agonizing moment.

  If only what? she wondered as he licked his lips. Would he kiss her? And if he did, would it mean “I care,” “Goodbye” …or both.

  His lips touched hers, gently at first, then more insistently.

  And Billie knew that if his situation demanded another escape, she wouldn’t let him go without her.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “JEFF THROWS A huge New Year’s Eve party every year,” Troy said, handing her an invitation. “From what I hear, it’s top of the line, all the way.”

  “He’s inviting me?” She laughed. “I have absolutely no desire to attend a black-tie gala, all by myself.”

  “You won’t be alone. He invited Noah, too.”

  “Right. Noah. Who won’t walk ten steps away from Alyssa—” Billie pointed at the line in the invitation that said Four Seasons “—driving half an hour to the Inner Harbor. You’re a laugh a minute!”

  She dropped the card on the kitchen table. “I guess you have to go, though, huh, since Jeff is your boss.”

  “Hey. Have you met me?” Her brother laughed. “When have you ever known me to turn down free food? And since it includes a night at a fancy-pants hotel, I wouldn’t say no, even if Jeff wasn’t my boss.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Besides, I’m not going alone.”

  “What?” Billie sat at the table. “Park it, brother, and start talkin’.”

  He told her about the woman he’d met at the office.

  “She’s older than me,” he said, “but doesn’t look it. Her husband died eight years ago, left her to raise two kids, who are in high school now. She’s smart and sweet and funny. I tell ya, Billie, I’ve never met a woman who could make me laugh the way she can. Knows exactly who she is and what she wants.”

  “And you hope that’s you?”

  “Yeah.” An odd, shy little smile lit his face. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  He looked so happy that Billie didn’t have the heart to voice her concerns.

  “I can hear the wheels spinning from all the way over here. What are you thinking?”

  “Only that if she ever hurts you, I don’t care if she’s a ninety-year-old female Sumo wrestler.”

  “Female Sumo…is there such a thing?”

  “I have no idea.”

  They shared a moment of laughter, and then Troy said, “So how was Alyssa’s birthday party?”

  “Nice. Real nice. The kids had fun, I think, and Noah is a pretty good host…for a shy, secretive, overprotective, too-stubborn-to-admit-he’s-in-pain dude.”

  Troy’s eyebrows rose. “The leg’s still giving him problems, is it? I feel rotten about that. If he hadn’t pulled me out of the car—”

  “You wouldn’t be here. I’m sure he has no regrets. You’d have done the same for him.”

  “I certainly hope so.” He ran a hand through his hair. “So how was the party? Did Alyssa make a good haul?”

  “I’ll say! I have no idea how it’s all going to fit in her little room. I think she was a bit disappointed that you couldn’t co
me to the party.”

  “She said that?”

  “Didn’t have to. When I left there last night, she was still working on a special art project to thank you for the DVDs. Just wait until you see it.”

  Thank you. Would Billie ever hear that phrase again without thinking of those intense, sizzling moments in Noah’s room? She exhaled a sigh. Not likely.

  “She’s a sweet kid. Just the kind I’d want…if fatherhood was in my future.”

  Ah, Billie thought. So he had considered the likelihood that his new lady friend didn’t want more children.

  “You’ve always wanted kids, so why wouldn’t fatherhood be in your future?”

  “I’m not getting any younger.”

  “Please. I could name a dozen movie stars who fathered kids long into their seventies.”

  “If this thing with Sheila goes where I think it might…” Troy shook his head. “She doesn’t want any more kids.”

  And there it was, the answer to her question. Funny, but it made Billie sad, because Troy would make a great dad.

  “At least she was honest with you. If having kids is still high on your priorities list, it’s early enough in the relationship to move on, find someone who shares your goals, before either of you gets hurt.”

  “Is that what you’re doing with Noah? Keeping a safe distance because you’re planning to move on?”

  “There’s nothing to move on from, Troy.”

  “Could’ve fooled me.”

  The comment—and the undercurrent of disappointment in his voice—surprised her.

  “You did fool me,” he continued. “I would have sworn you were falling for the guy. That you were crazy about the kid, too.” He shrugged. “But then, I remember what you used to say about kids…that they’re messy and loud. Rude. Grabby.” He shook his head. “It’s your life. That’s all I’m going to say.”

  And then he left to update Jeff on the franchise owners he’d met with earlier in the week. He’d no sooner gone than the phone rang, and dread swirled in her heart when she saw Noah’s number on the screen.

  “Hello, Billie. It’s me, Alyssa.”

  The last person she wanted to hear from right now. She needed time to process the truths Troy had unearthed.