12. Chapter 12
Chapter 12
Lily
"What do you think?" I ask Dad, my anticipation clear in every word.
"Wow!" Dad exclaims, taking in the space. "This is really nice—charming and organized."
"This is the reception area where the kids will get checked in," I explain, walking up to the tall counter with a computer, a stack of forms, and name tags.
"Yeah," Dad agrees, nodding. "It's practical and inviting."
As we walk further into the room, I continue, "We have two separate spaces. This first one is dedicated to younger kids. What do you think?"
"You did a great job," Dad replies, his voice brimming with pride as he takes in the surroundings. "The space is impressive."
We walk through the space, and I point out the soft, colorful furnishings and the murals I painted in each classroom. The first is a vibrant garden scene with a treehouse, slide, and swings surrounded by plants and flowers. The second mural features the alphabet and numbers in bold fonts, accompanied by book covers, blocks, and various toys—all painted by hand. I drew inspiration from Noah’s garden and Davey’s playroom.
Other walls are adorned with educational posters to stimulate learning.
"The reading nooks in each room are my favorite," I say, guiding Dad to a cozy corner with a comfortable chair, a bookshelf brimming with books, and a thick, plush rug where the kids can curl up and lose themselves in stories.
"I like the tables for arts and crafts," Dad replies, following me into the kitchen at the back of the building. It’s well-equipped, modern, and clean, with ample counter space and storage.
"Ooh, nice kitchen!" he exclaims. "Are you going to be preparing meals for the kids as well?"
"Meals and snacks," I confirm. The kitchen features three tables with chairs to accommodate about twelve children at once.
We finish the tour by visiting the child-friendly bathrooms, which are decorated with vibrant tiles and playful accents.
"How are you affording all this, Mija?" Dad asks, his tone curious. "Your monthly allowance isn't nearly enough to support yourself and fund all this."
"Well, I had a job up until two months ago," I explain. "I used that income to support myself, and I poured the allowance you send me into the business. I also took out a business loan so I can pay the three employees I hired, and I secured an investor."
"Who?" Dad asks, raising a thick eyebrow. "Noah Linder?"
"No, Dad," I say, a bit defensively. "My investors are a very sweet couple. Close friends of the Linders. The daycare was their idea. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. They were going to do this with or without me."
"Okay, Mija," Dad says with a warm smile, throwing his arm around me. "You did good. You did really good. I'm proud of you."
"Do you want to go next door to say hello to Zoe?" I ask, remembering how Dad took Zoe out on a date the last time he was here.
He smiles sheepishly. "No, that's okay. I don't think she'd want to see me."
I laugh. "I know! She said you never called her again."
"What can I say," he adds, shrugging, "your mother was my one and only."
"You should look for someone to settle down with," I suggest, glancing at him. "Don't you want someone in your life to love and take care of?"
"I'm a lover, but not a caregiver," he confesses.
"Well, at least you can admit it."
"I wasn't made to be with just one woman," he says, a note of candor in his voice. "But… if Lisa’s available, maybe I'd reconsider."
Ignoring the mention of Lisa, I counter, "If you couldn’t master monogamy when you were married to Mom, what makes you think Lisa could change that?"
A shadow crosses his face, his voice turning somber. "I regret it—my infidelity. It destroyed our marriage."
I hesitate before saying softly, "She always claimed it was because you didn’t want to leave Mexico. She never mentioned anyone else."
"Then how do you know?" he asks, his eyes heavy with a remorse.
"Because I know you, Dad. When you showed me who you truly are, I believed you."
"You still love me?" he asks, his voice tinged with vulnerability.
"I do," I reply, offering him a small, reassuring smile. "I love you, Dad."
"And at my age, that’s all that matters," he says, his voice soft but resolute.
"Dad, can I ask you for a favor?" The tone in my voice makes him look directly at me.
"Of course. Anything."
"Stay away from Lisa."
"For you, Mija, I'll keep my distance. I promise."
"Thank you," I say, relieved.
***
After lunch, Dad drives me home and takes my car so he can have a vehicle while he's visiting.
"Dinner's at six," I say, giving him a kiss on the cheek before climbing out of the car.
"See you then, Mija," he replies. "That gives me time to go for a hike. It’s one of the things I appreciate most about Cold Spring—the hiking trails are breathtaking."
"Have fun, Dad. I'll see you later," I call out as I watch him drive away.
Turning, I head into the house, looking for my boys. I find them in the backyard, engrossed in a game of catch with a football.
"Have you two been out here this entire time?" I ask, my breath catching as I lock eyes with Noah.
"Hi, Lily," Davey's little voice interrupts the moment between Noah and me. "Where's your daddy?"
"He went home," I reply. "He'll be here tonight for dinner."
"What are we having for dinner?" Davey asks, looking curious.
"Your daddy is making spaghetti," I say, smiling as I glance back at Noah. "Have you two eaten lunch? I can make something."
"We just finished eating," Noah says. "We made grilled cheese sandwiches."
"Did you help?" I ask Davey.
"I put the cheese on the bread," Davey replies proudly, "and Dad let me flip them in the pan."
"That's great, Davey," I say. "A man should know his way around a kitchen."
"I'm not a man," Davey chuckles. "I'm only five."
"You're a little man," I say bending down to hug him. "What else have you two been up to?"
"Ava came over and played with me," Davey replies. "I want her to be my sister."
The sudden jolt of pain in my heart nearly brings me to tears, but I manage to hold it together. Noah catches my eye briefly before turning to Davey with a reassuring smile. "All your cousins will be home on Friday," he says. "There will be plenty of kids for you to play with."
"I thought my cousins were big like you," Davey says, his voice tinged with confusion.
"That's true," Noah replies, "but your cousins now have kids of their own, and they’re about your age."
"More cousins?!" Davey asks, his excitement evident. But the question is followed by a stifled yawn as he rubs his eyes with his fists. Seeing him so small and vulnerable, I feel a wave of tenderness wash over me, replacing the earlier ache with a fierce protectiveness. The thought of not being able to give Davey a sibling fades in the sweetness of this moment.
"I think it's time for a nap, Bud," Noah says, noticing Davey's signs of tiredness. "Let's head inside. You can wash up and then lie down for a bit."
"But I'm not tired," Davey protests, rubbing his eyes once more.
"Lily's dad is coming over later," Noah says with a smile. "I want you to be wide awake so you can teach him some more Japanese.
"Okay, Daddy," Davey says, trudging toward the house.
"I'll be right back," Noah says, reaching for my hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
I follow them into the house and start pulling limes from the refrigerator, preparing to make my father's favorite drink—Brazilian lemonade. As I stir a simple syrup on the stove, Noah walks in. I turn off the heat and turn to face him.
"I'm sorry, Sweetheart," he says, his concern evident. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I reply, managing a small smile. "There’s nothing to apologize for. Davey’s just a little kid. He speaks from the heart. He wants a sibling."
"He's five," Noah says, leaning against the counter next to me with his arms crossed. "He doesn’t really know what he wants. Once all the kids are back, he’ll forget all about it."
I can smell his cologne and feel his sympathy envelope me. Part of me longs to reach out and touch him, while another part wants to walk away and distance myself from the intense sense of loss swirling inside me.
"Please don’t feel sorry for me, Noah," I say, my voice trembling as I fight to keep the tears at bay. "I can't have children, and if things between us get serious, it might be something we'll have to contend with in the future."
As the weight of my words sinks in, I feel a rush of embarrassment and quickly look away, distracting myself by turning the burner back on. But Noah gently reaches over and turns it off.
"Noah," I protest softly.
"Look at me, Sweetheart," he says, his hands warming my arms. I meet his gaze, desperately hoping my eyes won’t betray the tears I’m struggling to hold back.
"I'm sorry," I say, shaking my head. "I'm sorry for sounding like—for assuming."
"Let me say something," Noah says, his gaze unwavering. "Things between us are serious. You told me the doctors said you had a five to ten percent chance of getting pregnant. We’ll face those odds together when the time comes. I love you, Lily, and I’m not going anywhere. Your infertility issues are my issues. We’ll handle it as a couple."
Despite my best efforts, tears begin to flow uncontrollably. Noah gently wipes them away with his thumbs and then with his lips, his touch tracing a tender path across my skin. The sensation is overwhelming, a balm to my heartache. He lifts me onto the counter, his kiss deepening into a slow, exploring embrace that makes me feel cherished and wanted.
When he pulls away, I pull him back to me, eager to show him how much I love him. From my perch on the counter, I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him with a tenderness that mirrors my own feelings, brushing my lips across his face until our lips come together once more.
***
An hour later, I'm stirring spaghetti sauce while Noah rolls dough into a loaf. After he places the dough in the oven, he turns to me with a warm smile. "I'm going to wake up Davey, otherwise, he’ll be up all night."
He kisses me on the forehead and heads for the stairs, taking them two at a time. Just as he reaches the top, his phone begins to ring.
"Noah, your phone!" I call out, reaching for it.
"Answer it, Sweetheart," he replies from above.
I glance at the caller ID and see Marian’s name flashing on the screen. My heart skips a beat as I answer.
"Hello?"
"Who's this?" a woman's voice asks, with a beautiful British accent.
"This is Lily," I reply, trying to keep my tone casual.
"Where’s Noah, and why are you answering his phone?"
"He's with Davey," I say, my heart racing. "They're on the second floor of the house, so I answered his phone. Can I take a message?"
"So, you're the woman sleeping with my husband," she replies, her voice cold and cutting.
"Pardon me?" I ask, stunned.
"Oh, don’t play coy with me, you—"
“If you want to leave a message, I’ll be happy to jot it down,” I interrupt firmly, “but do not insult me.”
"Put Noah on the phone," she demands.
"Like I said, I can take a message," I reply firmly.
"Put him on the phone now," she insists, her tone laced with contempt.
"I’ll let him know you called. Goodbye." I hang up, feeling a pang of guilt despite the small victory.
Noah’s voice startles me as he appears at the doorway. "Did she leave a message?"
I hand him the phone. "You might want to call her back. I just hung up on her."
"You hung up on her?" A smile tugs at his lips as he looks at me with an intense gaze.
I nod, biting my lower lip, and he bursts into laughter.
Davey's excited voice and footsteps come rushing towards us. "Mommy! Mommy!"
Noah winks at me before turning to Davey. "Come on, Bud. Let’s call your mom back."
***
At exactly six o'clock, the doorbell rings. Noah steps out of the office with Davey in tow, a warm smile on his face as he glances at me. He opens the door to greet our guest.
"Mr. Cruz," Noah says, extending his hand.
"Please, call me Mateo," Dad replies with a smile. "Hi, Mija."
"Hi Dad," I say, smiling back.
"Come in," Noah invites.
"Hola, Davey," Dad says, switching to Spanish to greet him.
"Hola, Lily's Daddy," Davey replies, switching to Spanglish with a shy grin.
"I smell tomato paste, oregano, and fresh-baked bread," Dad says, his nose twitching as he steps inside. "Are we having spaghetti for dinner?"
"We are!" Davey exclaims, his eyes lighting up. "How did you know?"
"I can smell it," Dad replies with a wink.
Dad and Davey sit together on one side of the table, their laughter filling the room as Noah and I bring out the meal. The aroma of spaghetti mingles with the scent of warm bread, but it's the Brazilian lemonade, chilled to perfection, that catches Dad's eye. As I place the frosty pitcher on the table, his face lights up with a smile, and he exclaims, "You remembered!" The warmth in his voice wraps around me like a hug, making this simple dinner feel extra special.
Dad's charm has clearly won over Davey, and I hope that Noah's charm will do the same with Dad.
Their conversation flows effortlessly—Davey proudly sharing his trilingual skills, Dad discussing his real estate ventures in Yucatán, Mexico, and Noah opening up about his career shift. I sit back, captivated, as the three most important men in my life engage in a lively, animated conversation, each holding their own. It's a moment that fills me with awe and a quiet sense of peace.
“I don’t know too many writers,” Dad laughs. “Meaning, I don’t know any.”
“He wrote under a pen name,” I say, feeling Noah’s fingers intertwining with mine under the table.
“I didn’t realize that was really a thing,” Dad says. “Writing under a fake name.”
“Well, the name isn't technically fake,” Noah clarifies. “I combined my father’s and son’s name, David, with my sister-in-law’s nickname to create my pen name.”
“Sharon, you mean.” Dad says. “Your pen name is David Sharon?”
“No,” Noah laughs, gently squeezing my hand. “Sharon’s nickname is Shay. My pen name is Shay David.”
“You're Shay David?” Dad asks, his expression unreadable.
“Yeah,” Noah confirms. “I know. Lily told me she’s collected my books over the years.”
Dad nods, catching me off guard. I never imagined him knowing about the books I read, let alone the authors I’ve admired over the years. I make a mental note to ask him how he knows about Shay David.
"When did you say you were in Mérida?" Dad asks.
Noah pauses, thinking back. "Almost six years ago," he replies. "It's been a while. We were there for a week attending a writer's conference."
Dad nods, taking a sip of his lemonade. "You brought your family with you."
"Back then, it was just me and my now ex-wife," Noah says, his eyes flickering to me briefly. I meet his gaze with a reassuring smile, hoping to convey that I'm okay with the mention of his ex.
They spend a few minutes discussing Noah’s books, a topic I’m well-versed in, so I eagerly share with Dad all about my love for Noah’s writing. Dad smiles, nodding along and contributing to the conversation, but I’m certain he had no idea I was a fan of Shay David before now. Despite his apparent liking for Noah, there’s a flicker in his eyes that hints at something weighing on him. I can’t help but wonder what it could be.