Chapter 13
Noah
“You have a son?” I follow her down the hall as she rushes toward a door at the far end.
Without breaking pace, she replies, “Yes.” Sticking the key in the lock, she hip butts it open and runs inside. “Cassandra?”
She disappears inside before I reach the door, so I let myself in, closing and locking it behind me.
I wait a few seconds to be told where to sit or to make myself at home, but then decide she’s busy taking care of her friend.
This night has taken an unexpected turn.
I’m not sure if it’s for the better or worse, but I’m sure she won’t leave me in suspense.
Speaking of suspense, who the fuck has she been with where she got pregnant?
Have I read this situation with her all wrong?
Is she dating someone? She dropped that bomb without further explanation, like I wouldn’t have a million questions.
Then again, maybe that’s why she kept it a secret for so long.
Oh shit.
I just had the worst thought . . . Chip better not be the fucking father.
That would be messed up. Okay, so I have a rough estimate of when they were dating, but I’d need to know the kid’s age as well.
As much as I’m ready to dive in like I’m on an expedition for the truth, I don’t think I’m ready to think of another fucker hitting on her, much less anything else.
If she were mine, I wouldn’t be having a secret romance.
Nope. It would make headline news. Jealousy creeps through my veins, and if I ever met who she’s hooking up with, let’s just say I’m not in the mood to go to prison.
I turn my attention toward the apartment.
A mirror with hooks hangs by the entrance, a thin table rests against the wall, and a mix of kid shoes, pink sneakers, and heels litter the floor underneath them.
I keep walking, but I can’t get the fact that Liv is a mom out of my head.
She dropped it like a bombshell, but I’m not sure why.
And more importantly, why would I hate her or her kid?
That makes no sense. What kind of monster does she think I am that I could hate a baby?
She doesn’t know me well, but she doesn’t need to worry about me getting along with her family. There’s a lot of mystery to uncover, but not today.
This is not something I’m going to be able to figure out tonight, though. I’m taking the wins, the information she’s willing to share with me, and calling it a victory.
Considering it’s night and only a few lamps are on, the apartment feels wide open and fairly large by New York standards. It’s on trend using modern style with a feminine softness of rounded corners instead of harsh edges.
The walls are light in color, not stark white, but a warmth that invites me forward into the larger space.
Unexpected and the opposite of her ice queen title.
I knew that because she’s been giving me glimpses of the real her since we met, but it’s good to see I was right about her.
She’s not as hard as she tries to convince everyone.
The furniture is not sparse, but every piece serves a purpose. It’s serene in this room, with varying shades of beige, cream, and other neutrals. My mom would love it here. It’s bright compared to the darker colors I chose for my apartment.
Crisp white quartz countertops and windows with shades pulled down finish off the brief tour. It’s all money, that much I can tell. Between the building, the design of this place, and the location, it must have cost a fortune. She is a Bancroft, though, so I’m not entirely surprised.
Peeks of red, blue, and yellow are found in a basket in the corner of the room by the TV. The toys add the only hint other than the shoes by the door that a kid lives here.
“She’s resting.” Liv’s voice reaches me before she comes into view. The sound of her padding down the short hall’s wood floors has me turning toward her when she appears.
“That’s good.” When she enters the kitchen, I lean my palms on the cold stone countertop, and ask, “Does she need anything?”
“No. I think rest will help.” The weight of concern she carried up here has gone, but now I’m left with a lot of questions I didn’t have prior.
“You have a son?”
She pauses at the sink, her eyes lifting before she rinses her hands. She worries her lip, tugging on it, as her gaze falls again. “I do.”
“Maxwell.”
Her smile is as light as air, and her eyes brighten. “Yes, his name is Maxwell.”
Liv is much more open with me. As for Olivia, she seems to be the one with all the secrets. “Why does it seem nobody knows?”
“Some know. My parents. Cassandra.”
“Who’s Cassandra?”
“My nanny and friend,” she adds. “She takes care of him.” Rattling her head with a little grin, she chuckles. “And me, if we’re being honest. She’s with him while I’m at work. She stayed tonight so I could go out.”
Each response leads me to answers from another question lingering around my head. “That’s why you don’t go out. You have a child at home.”
She nods and then exhales. The graceful lines from her neck to her arms soften, making me think these confessions have knotted her shoulders for years.
“Liv?” We both turn to see who I assume is Cassandra poking her head out of a bedroom. With her arm wrapped around her stomach, she says, “I need to get home.”
“You can’t,” Liv says. “You’re sick, and no way am I letting you take the subway. I’m happy to call a car, but I don’t think it’s safe for you to travel in this condition.”
Cassandra walks slowly, making me think there’s more going on than a case of upset stomach.
She leans against the wall at the exit of the hall, her hand gripping the corner of the sheetrock.
“I need to take care of my dog. He’s probably out of food and water.
My neighbor’s not answering my texts or calls. I just need to get home.”
Liv looks at me, not for answers but seemingly at a loss. I say, “Hi, I’m Noah.”
She raises her hand, but a feeble wave is all that’s managed. “You look dehydrated. Can I get you a glass of water?”
“It goes right through me.” She laughs, but there’s no humor. “I’m sure that’s what you want to hear.”
“It’s okay. If I can help, I’m here and happy to.”
“Thanks.”
Liv says, “You need to stay. You can’t travel in this condition.”
“Bernie needs me.”
Turning to me, Liv says, “Her Chihuahua is named Bernie.”
“Great name.”
She smiles, albeit briefly. “I can’t leave Maxwell, so I’m not sure what to do here. Maybe . . .” Liv glances at me again. “Maybe I should feed Bernie.”
“I want to be there. You know he’s not good with others—ugh.” She lurches forward, her arms tightening around her middle. Tears start to fall, and I see panic reach her eyes before she runs back down the hall.
Liv and I face each other at the same time. I say, “I could ride with her to make sure she’s safe.” As if we’re planning a coup, I whisper, “But I’m not sure a complete stranger is going to give her comfort.”
“I can’t go because Maxwell is sleeping. I don’t want to drag him all over New York.”
“Liv?” Cassandra calls, her voice echoing down the hall.
Liv goes without hesitation, disappearing just as quickly.
I’m not sure what to do here other than offer to help how I can. I bide my time until she returns by walking to the window to check out her view. Rolling up a shade, I’m hit with a stunner of a cityscape. It’s dark, but the city is wide awake.
“Noah?”
I whip around to see Liv coming toward me. “I need to ask a favor.”
“Anything.”
“We don’t know each other well enough for me to ask this of you, but I do trust you.”
“Trust is a good start to a relationship.” The comment doesn’t seem to faze her.
“I need to get Cassandra home and feed her dog. I’ll make sure she’s set up with what she needs tonight and then check on her again in the morning.”
“How can I help?”
“I need you to stay here with Maxwell until I return.” Her words flow faster as she continues, “He’s a good little sleeper and shouldn’t be any trouble. If he cries, you can wait a few minutes, and he’ll usually fall back asleep again.”
I’m still in the pit lane, and she’s crossing the finish line. I need a sec to catch up to the obvious. “You want me to watch your baby?”
“Not really.”
I balk at her honesty. It doesn’t soften the blow, but at least I know she’ll tell me the truth. A slight grin shuffles onto my face. “But I’m all you’ve got?”
“At this time of night? Yes.” She takes a breath and then keeps whispering, “It will take about an hour.”
I glance at the hallway before asking, “And he’s down there sleeping?”
“Yes. Are you up for it? Please be honest with me.”
This is a lot to process. First, Olivia Bancroft has a secret son.
Second, she trusts me enough to share this part of her life.
Third, she needs me. Despite leaving me that night in the Hamptons with no communication or even a goodbye, tonight healed some of those wounds that were left festering.
The past is finally behind me. She needs me now, and there’s no way in hell I’ll let her down. “It will be fine.”
Relief washes through her, and she moves in to give me a hug.
Catching herself just inches between us, she stops.
Her breathing is heavy as she stares at my chest. But then she stops fighting whatever imaginary obstacle was thrown in her path.
Throwing her arms around me, she rests her head on my chest.
It’s tentative at first, though all I’ve wanted to do since seeing her again is rekindle what we left unfinished two years ago. I wrap my arms around her, dipping my nose to her head. The smell of fresh flowers—exotic and warm, if warm had a scent—fragrances her hair.
“I’m ready.” We push apart, and Cassandra shuffles to the door. “I’m sorry,” she says.
Liv runs her hands down the front of her dress. “I can’t wear this. I need to change.” She walks away without looking back at me. It gives me one last opportunity to admire how incredible she looks in red silk. “I’ll be quick. I promise.”