There was a closer school that wouldn’t have required a school bus, but it was supposed to be “not as good” as the school across town. So Noah made a few calls when we moved in with him over the summer, to make sure Lily was at the best school.
Not that it helped.
Lily is sitting in the back seat, singing to herself. She’s dressed in this adorable purple velvet dress Noah’s mother bought for her with socks featuring ladybugs. But the crowning glory of her outfit is her sparkly headband with a unicorn horn jutting out from it. She has been wearing that horn intermittently since I gave it to her in her for her birthday in October. She was even wearing it for her school photo—she loves it so much, I didn’t have the heart to tell her to take it off.
“I could drive you all the way to the school,” Noah says while we’re stalled at a red light. “I don’t mind.”
“Yeah!” Lily chimes in from the back.
“That’s too far,” I protest. “Anyway, the bus stop is right by the subway, so this is easier for me.”
“I could drive you to work…”
“Noah! It’s your day off!”
He grins and shrugs, then puts his hand on the accelerator. About six months ago, Noah got his 4Runner set up with hand controls. He explained that he used to use them years ago, right after his injury, but then went back to foot pedals. Now he felt a need to go back to hand controls. It worries me. I think he’s in a lot of pain he’s not telling me about. He limps more than he used to.
We pull up in front of the bus stop. There’s a handicapped parking spot right in front of the supermarket, so he pulls into it. That’s another thing—Noah used to be really reluctant to take advantage of his handicapped plates, but now he always chooses those spots, even if he doesn’t have his wheelchair.
“Arianna!” Lily shrieks when she sees her friend waiting at the stop.
“Lily.” Noah cranes his neck to look back at her. “You want to go wait at the bus stop while I talk to your mom?”
Lily lets out a whoop, then gets out of the car to chat with Arianna about whatever seven-year-olds chat about (and show off her unicorn horn). Once we’re alone, Noah leans in and presses his lips against mine. He hasn’t shaved yet today, and his stubble burns my chin in the best possible way. He is so freaking sexy.
“Want to play hooky from work?” he whispers in my ear.
I swat him on the shoulder. “Don’t tempt me. I can’t just not show up.”
“Tell them you’re sick. Twenty-four-hour stomach bug.”
God, it’s tempting when I’m so close to him, and he’s looking at me that way.
“Come on,” he says. “I want to spend the day in bed with my future wife.”
I summon up every ounce of my willpower. “I really shouldn’t. I used up all my sick days when Lily had the flu in February.”
“So quit.”
I pull away from him, staring into his blue eyes. He’s not joking. “What?”
“You always wanted to be an artist,” he points out. “That was your dream and you’re great at it. So quit your job and become an artist.”
“Noah, it’s not that simple,” I murmur. “I need a job. I need money.”
“I make enough money that you wouldn’t have to work.”
I don’t know what to say to that, except that I’ve never been supported by another person for my entire adult life. I was on a work-study program in college, I waited tables while I got licensed as a social worker, and then right after that, I got my first fulltime job. If I had ended up trying for a career in art, I would have supported myself with part-time jobs to make ends meet. I certainly never counted on Theo to support me, which is a very good thing, considering he barely brought in any income most of the time. Up until recently, it was a crapshoot whether I’d get my child support check.
“I’d feel weird about that,” I mumble.
“Why?”
“Because…”
“Would it really be that awful?”
I like my job. I do. It can be really rewarding at times. But there are also times when I get so frustrated by the system and clients who are slowly killing themselves and their loved ones, I just want to rip my hair out. Some of my coworkers have endless patience, but I’m not like that. This is not my dream job. And the income is a drop in the bucket compared to what Noah brings in.
“It wouldn’t be awful,” I admit.
It would be a dream come true, actually. But I can’t take advantage of Noah that way. I don’t want him to feel like he has to support me. Especially when he’s been having more pain in his lower limbs. If anything, he should be cutting back.
“We’ll talk about it later,” I say.
He nods and kisses me again. I can’t believe how lucky I am to have a man who cares about me this much.
I get out of the car to find Lily and Arianna playing some sort of tag game, chasing each other around the entrance to the supermarket while customers with overflowing shopping bags try to dodge them. It’s only a matter of time before someone screams at us.
“Lily,” I say sternly. “Stop running around. We’re in front of a supermarket.”
Naturally, she completely ignores me.
“Good luck with that.” Elise doesn’t look up from her phone as she talks. “I don’t think she’s able to make out the pitch of my voice anymore. She’s like a reverse dog.”
I laugh. “I have the same problem.”
Elise lifts her eyes. “Noah gave you a ride, huh?”
I study her face, expecting to see that usual flash of jealousy, but instead her eyes are wide and curious. “Yes…”
“He parked in the handicapped spot.”
“Uh, well. Just for a moment.”
“But he’s got handicapped plates.”
She’s got me there.
“He does limp…” She cocks her head at me. “Is Noah… what’s his deal?”
Honestly, it’s not like I’m at all ashamed about it. I find Noah just as sexy either way. But what I’m embarrassed about is that she’s known me for the entire school year and I never mentioned it. It shouldn’t be a big deal, yet somehow it is.
I lift my chin. “He’s disabled. So…”
She leans toward me, her face full of wide-eyed curiosity. Now I remember why I didn’t say anything to Elise—she’s a horrible gossip. “Seriously? What’s wrong with him?”
“He… he lost both his legs in a car accident. He wears prosthetics.”
Her mouth falls open. “What?”
“It happened a long time ago.” And then the lie: “Before we were dating.”
“Holy…” She covers his mouth with her manicured fingertips. “Both his legs?”
I nod.
And I can just imagine the conversation with the other mothers in the class. You know that hottie that Bailey is living with? Well, get this: he’s a double amputee!
And this is why I never told Elise. I hate being the object of gossip.
“Her certainly walks very well,” she says. “You know, considering…”
“Yeah,” I mumble, knowing Noah’s got his wheelchair stashed in the back seat of the car and he’ll undoubtedly be spending the day in it. But none of that is any of Elise’s business.
My phone starts buzzing in my purse. Grateful for the excuse to get out of this conversation with Elise, I pull it out. I squint at the name on the screen.
Theo.
Why is he calling me? It can’t have to do with Lily—she’s with me. And he’s not supposed to see her this weekend. Is he hoping to swap weekends with me? Because Noah wanted to take us to Coney Island this weekend, and I don’t want to tell him it’s off.
I shove my phone back into my purse without answering it. The only person I want to talk to less than Elise right now is Theo.
Chapter 10: Noah
Tonight Lily and I are reading together.
I hit the library after I dropped the girls off at the bus stop, and I got a bunch of books that were rea
ding level appropriate. The nice librarian in the kids’ area was only too happy to help me. I got a bunch of books about Pete the Cat, Little Critters, and a handful of others. I figured if Lily had some choices, she’d do better.
I also bought some cheap poker chips at the drug store.
When Bailey brings Lily home from school, I’m ready for them. She’s chattering excitedly when she walks in, her cheeks pink from the brisk spring air. But when she sees the stack of books on the coffee table, she freezes.
“What’s that?” She points to the pile of books like I left some manure on the table.
“Noah got you some books.” Bailey flashes me an “I told you so” look. “He wants to do some reading with you.”
Lily lets out one of her patented extended sighs. “But I don’t want to read.”
I’m a little hurt. Back in the day, Lily would have jumped at the chance to do any activity with me. Her crush must be wearing off. It’s a relief in a way, because it was hard to live up to her hero worship, but I was counting on that to get her to sit down to read.
Bailey starts to say something but I hold up my hand that I’ll take care of it. “Lily,” I say patiently. “You have to learn how to read.”
“No, I don’t!” She puts her hands on her hips. “I want to be a bug scientist. All I have to do is identify bugs.”
“But how will you be able to do that without being able to read?”
“Pictures! Obviously!”
“Right. But how will you read the name of the bug?”
She considers this a moment. Finally, she flops down on the couch. “Fine!”
It’s not the auspicious start I was hoping for, but I’ll take it.
Lily takes her sweet time choosing the book she wants to read. Bailey is lingering nearby, just about ready to lose her patience when Lily carefully examines and rejects the fourth book in the pile. I end up shooing Bailey away, into the bedroom. Lily knows how to push Bailey’s buttons, but not mine.
Finally, Lily selects a book to read. It’s a thin volume about a grasshopper and mouse that form an unlikely friendship. A big red tag declares it to be a book for early readers.
“Okay, Lil,” I say. “Here’s the deal.”
She looks at me with her big, brown eyes.
I dig in my pocket and pull out a blue poker chip. “Every time you read with me for twenty minutes, I’m going to give you one of these poker chips. You need to find a place to keep them. And then when you’ve got fifty…” I pause for drama. “Mom said you could get an ant farm.”
Lily’s mouth falls open. She raises her arms in the air and lets out a yelp. “Ant farm!”
“Yes,” I say. “But you have to get fifty chips first.”
She picks up the book from the table and plops down next to me on the couch. “So what are we waiting for? Let’s read!”
Twenty minutes later, we’ve made a tiny dent in the book. I’d be lying if I said reading with Lily was easy. It’s not. Even with the motivation of getting an ant farm, she is very easily distracted. Multiple times she makes noises to indicate how little she enjoys doing this.
But she does try. She sounds out words for me, although the sheer number of words she must sound out makes the process a little painful. I know if we do this every night, she’ll learn to recognize words better, but when she’s sounding out half the four-letter words, it’s rough. But she sits there for the whole twenty minutes and reads with me, without trying to leave or throwing a tantrum.
“That was great, Lily.” I pull the chip back out of my pocket and hand it to her. “You earned this.”
“Only forty-three more to go!” she yelps.
Forty-three? All right, maybe after we conquer this reading thing, math needs to be next.
While Lily races to her room to find a place to put her chip, my cell phone starts ringing in my pocket. Bailey always makes fun of me that my ring tone is the generic iPhone ringtone, but I’m happy with that. The last thing I need is Taylor Swift blasting from my phone every time I get a call.
It’s my mother’s name on the screen. It’s odd because I talk to my mother once a week, and I already talked to her this past weekend to tell her about me and Bailey getting engaged. So why is she calling? It can’t be anything good.
No, that’s not true. Maybe she’s just checking in. Wants to see how I’m doing.
Even though she hasn’t done that in years.
I answer the phone, trying to push away my gut feeling that something is wrong. “Mom? Are you okay?”
“Noah.” She sounds breathless. “You’re not working, are you? Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“No, it’s fine.”
She seems okay. Still alive. But that doesn’t preclude any terrible news. Noah, I’ve got three months to live.
I’m not a momma’s boy by any means, but I love my mother. Before Bailey came along, she was the only person in the entire world I really cared about. She raised me single-handedly, working two jobs to make ends meet, and I owe every good thing in my life to her. So yes, I’m a little protective of her.
“What’s going on, Mom?” I say when she’s silent on the other line.
“Noah,” she murmurs. “I’m not sure how to tell you this…”
“Tell me what?”
“It’s your father. He’s had a minor heart attack.”
“My… father?”
I haven’t heard her utter those two words in a very long time. We don’t talk about my father. Ever. As far as I’m concerned, he did us a favor by taking off when I was ten. And he never showed any interest in coming back. He never called on my birthday, never sent presents or money… it was like he forgot we even existed.
After my accident, when I was still hazy from anesthesia, I had a hallucination that he was at my bedside. I imagined he was sitting by my bed, holding my hand, gazing down at me. I don’t know why I would hallucinate something like that. I didn’t want him to be there. That was the last thing I wanted or needed.
But it still hurt that he didn’t show. I almost died. He could have come to see me.
So why the hell would I care if he had a heart attack?
“He’s being discharged from the hospital tomorrow,” my mother says. “And… well, he asked me if he could see you.”
“What did you say?”
“I said I’d talk to you.”
I shake my head. “Why did you even take a call from that deadbeat? What did he ever do for us?”
“He’s your father, Noah.”
The statement pisses me off. Maybe Michael Walsh contributed some sperm to my conception, but I don’t know if that ought to give him the designation of being my father. A father is more than a goddamn sperm donor. But he’s still got the title—it’s a sham.
I glance up at Lily’s open bedroom door. The sound of her singing to herself floats into the living room. Lily is a perfect example of this. Theo Duncan is her father and will always be her father, even if I’m the one putting a roof over her head, I’m the one who shows up on time to pick her up from school, and I’m the one who’s going to teach her to read.
I would never disappoint that kid, but it doesn’t matter. As Theo pointed out the other day, I’m not her father.
“I’m not seeing him,” I say through my teeth. “No chance.”
“Noah…”
“I don’t want to talk about this.” I would never hang up on my mother, but I really don’t want to have this conversation. “I’m not going to see him. End of story.”
“If you wait, it could be too late.”
“Mom, listen to me—I don’t care. I. Don’t. Care. I never want to see that asshole ever again. Ever.”
She’s quiet for a moment. “We’ll talk more about this later.”
No, we won’t. But I’ll agree to it if it will allow me to end this conversation.
Chapter 11: Bailey
I look up from my paper-covered desk, where our receptionist Kerri is standing over me, her hands o
n her hips. I’ve been at work for too many hours today, struggling with too many difficult clients. If Kerri has bad news for me, I don’t want to hear it.
“Hey, Bailey,” she says. “Your handsome boyfriend is waiting for you outside the office.”
Noah is here to pick me up. That’s definitely not bad news.
Kerri flirts with Noah every time he shows up to pick me up, although she’s married and I know it’s harmless. She jokes with me that I’m overcompensating after not having a boyfriend for so many years. Could be true.
I gather my papers together, throw my purse on my shoulder, and head out to the reception area, where Noah is sitting on one of the old plastic chairs, waiting for me. Everything is in this office is old and needed to be replaced ten years ago. Social work is not a lucrative field.
His face lights up when he sees me. After what happened between us a decade ago, I never thought he’d look at me that way again. But he does. All the time.
“Bailey.” He tries to stand up, but those chairs are not easy for even an able-bodied person to get up from. He has to grab onto a second chair, and finally he makes it to his feet. Kerri is watching him curiously from the reception table. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Five minutes late.”
“Still.”
He did an early shift in the ER this morning, so he’s still wearing his blue scrubs. He looks so freaking handsome in those scrubs—they bring out the color in his eyes, which are already a really vivid blue. Women turn and stare when he walks around in those scrubs. Much like the way Kerri is staring right now.
I might be staring a bit too. But I’m allowed.
When I get closer, he grabs me and pulls me in for a kiss. I can’t help but melt every time he kisses me. Nobody kisses like Noah.
“Get a room, you two,” Kerri says.
Actually, Lily is staying at Theo’s place tomorrow night and we’ll have the whole apartment to ourselves. I can’t wait…
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