Three
Noah
This guy’s message is unmistakable. He’s laying claim to Beryl. It shouldn’t matter to me, but the beat of my heart slows with painful realization. I’m jealous some other guy is touching her. I have no right to feel that emotion. But when I drop my gaze to where his fingers curl against her hip, she’s squirming and uncomfortable.
Despite the minuscule flare of hope, I fix a neutral expression on my face and hold out my free hand. “Noah Drake, owner of Choco-Love.”
“Phillip Tolenski, owner of this gymnastics school.”
We nod in greeting while I fight back a satisfied grin. Beryl has succeeded in moving from his side.
“Follow me, Mr. Drake, and we’ll get set up. Phil, can you bring the kids in about five minutes?”
He pauses for half a beat. “Sure you won’t need my help?”
Waving one hand, she takes a few steps. “Nope. We’ve got it. Mr. Drake, this way.”
Once we’re in the hall the stiff set of her shoulders droops. She speaks into the empty space in front of us. “Why are you here, Noah?”
“I’m delivering a birthday choc-cuterie board.”
“I know that. The question was more rhetorical. Why did our paths cross again? Why now? Why here?”
I’ve been pondering the same questions. As a young man I’d never believed in fate or karma. Now, I’m not so sure there isn’t something to this ‘knowing’ business.
However the main reason I took over this delivery from my sister is while I was making repairs, my mind starting counting years, months. We hadn’t been very careful the last time. Beryl’s son could be mine. The panic I’d first felt when I made that connection returns. What if he is mine? What do I do? How do I act? For now I’m going to stick around under the guise of watching the kids’ reactions to see if I see any of myself in the boy.
It”s possible Beryl told me about him in one of the letters I refused to open. If so, and I hadn’t answered…she must have hated me. Probably still does. Like an idiot, I still have the tattered, unopened mail stuffed in the bottom of a lock box. I don’t know if I have the kind of bravery necessary to open them after all these years.
We enter the snack room in silence. There’s a table set with cupcakes and another with juice boxes. Beryl points to the cupcake table. “I thought we could put it in the middle of the cupcakes.”
Nodding, I do as she indicates then step back. “Looks good. Do you mind if I take a couple photos for the shop’s sample book?”
“Of course not. Then…” She pauses and glances toward the doorway. “…why don’t you stick around and take another photo after the damage is done. That might be fun to show customers.”
“You always did have the best ideas.” And the most adorable pink blush that now covers her cheeks. I always enjoyed creating that bright flush then chasing it over her body with my mouth. Closing my eyes I fight the memory and the interest my dick is taking. “I’m glad that hasn’t changed.”
She peeks out the door. “You’d better get those photos, the herd is on the way.”
The rumble of running feet and the shouts of god knows how many kids precede them to the doorway where that Phillip guy stops with a raised hand. “Pull it in now. The snack room is not the gym.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Phil,” comes a unison response from the children as they settle into a silent, barely moving cluster of small bodies. Hate to admit it, but I’m impressed.
The guy continues, “Good job. Devin, come on up to the front. It’s your special day so you go first.”
My attention focused on the door, I realize I’m not breathing. Anticipation tightens in my chest. This could be my son.
But the boy who moves to the front of the group looks nothing like me. The disappointment surprises me and I slowly release my held breath. This child has sun streaked, brown hair curling close to his head. Although his skin is pale like his mother’s, and his eyes sparkle a clear blue, his features show a mixed heritage through his broader nose and full lips.
I wait for relief to follow the disappointment, but the feeling never comes. This boy should have been mine.
His grin is contagious and stretches wider when he sees the cupcakes. He glances up at his coach who nods, then gallops to the table and stands there, mouth open for a long moment studying my creation before rushing to hug Beryl around the waist. His eyes are bright with joy. “Mom. Thank you. I love it. So much chocolate.”
She returns the hug then takes his hand and brings him over to me. “Devin, this is the man who made all those circus animals for you.” She catches my eye. “He does amazing work in chocolate, don’t you think?”
Devin holds out his small hand. “I can’t believe it. Thank you, Mr…”
I take his hand and grin at the hearty shake he gives me. In this instant I know, without doubt, no matter who the father, this child should be mine. His mother is mine. I was a fucking dickhead leaving her like I did. I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me. I will do whatever it takes to show her I’m not the boy pretending to be a man I was then. Someday we will be a family.
“Noah, please just call me Noah,” I say to him.
He glances back over his shoulder at his mother. “Is that okay, Mom?”
She nods. “If Mr. Drake wants you to call him Noah, that’s fine. Thank you for remembering your manners.”
Devin bounces on his toes. “Can we have cake and chocolate now. Although…” He screws up his face in exaggerated thought. “It’s a shame to destroy Mr. … uh, Noah’s hard work.”
After a slight hesitation, I rest my hand on his shoulder. “Watching people enjoy my chocolate creations is why I make them, Devin. So have at it.”
Once the kids are settled with treats and juice, I lean against a wall watching. Beryl moves next to me. “Thanks again for the repair work.”
“Not a problem. Wow, I can’t believe how much energy these kids have.”
She chuckles. “Wait until the sugar kicks in.”
“Are they always like this?” I haven’t spent much time around kids I know nothing. “Or is this just party excitement.”
That guy comes to stand at Beryl’s side, crowding close without actually touching her. I struggle to keep from growling at him and shoving him away. Witnessing how she’s also uncomfortable with his possessive display helps keep my anger in check. What the hell is going on with me?
“Kids have a lot of energy, Mr. Drake.”
“Call me Noah,” I manage through only slightly clenched teeth.
He gives a sharp nod of acknowledgement. “Phil. Here at the gym kids learn how to focus that energy into contained movements. We also have created a meditation program to assist with that focus and to help with nerves before competitions.”
“It’s a good program,” Beryl says. “That’s why Devin chose it.”
Phil turns away and motions to the kids and the other coaches in the room. “Let’s get this cleaned up and do our focus session before your parents come to pick you up.”
For me, the loud groan resulting from his statement would indicate resistance, but every child got up, deposited their trash in the barrel and helped straighten the room. I took the destruction photos then packed up the remaining chocolates for Devin to take home.
Before he left the room, he ran to me, hugged me then stepped back. “Thank you again, Noah. Your chocolate is fire.” Before I can speak, he’s gone.
With his back to Beryl, Phil glared at me before he follows the kids. He’s going to step up his advances. I just need to beat him to it.
Both of us lost in thought, Beryl walks with me to the building entrance where she pauses and gnaws on her lower lip. God, that always turned me on and from the condition of my dick, nothing’s changed.
We say each other’s names at the same time, pause then chuckle. She waves one hand at me. “You first.”
What do I say? Or do I just fall to my knees and beg for a second chance? Tempting, but not where we might be interrupted. I study her face for a long moment. Her eyes tell me she’s confused. Hopefully about us. Together we could clear the confusion. Internally I shake my head. She’s not ready. Seeing me today was a shock—for us both—and I don’t think she’s over that yet.
I can’t let her take too long to figure it out. Not with her son’s coach sniffing around.
I’ve been silent too long and clear my throat. “I’d like to… no, I’m sorry I… damn it, Beryl.”
“I—I know, Noah. Today was a surprise. A shock. I haven’t had time to process either. I need that time. Can you…?”
When all I ache to do is pull her into my arms and rediscover the joy of her soft lips against mine it goes against every fiber of my being to say, “I understand. I can wait.”
I don’t stick around for her reply. Instead I stalk to my car and deliberately drive carefully away. I refuse to glance in the rearview mirror. I couldn’t bear it if she doesn’t watch me leave.