Chapter 30
Liv
“He’ll be here any minute. Are you sure you want to stay?”
“I’m sure.”
Why am I so unsure, then? Pacing the living room with Max on my hip, I try to settle my chaotic thoughts. I love my mom, but it makes me nervous to introduce new people or elements into my relationship with Noah, especially when we’re figuring out how this all works tonight.
A knock has me stopping and looking toward the door. Not sure how long I do this, but it’s apparently long enough for my mom to ask, “Do you want me to answer it?”
“No.” I start walking. “I’ll get it.”
I open the door to find a shit-eating grin fixed on Noah’s face. It’s like he got a blow job at work or something . . . I roll my eyes just as he pulls us toward him and gives me a big kiss before he turns to Max, and says, “How’s my big boy?”
Max . . . the nickname has grown on me so much that now I use the names interchangeably. He babbles, “Ca,” as he bounces off my hip and right into his daddy’s arms.
“Why didn’t you use your key?” I ask.
“Because I wouldn’t have been able to kiss you like I did.”
“I don’t know.” I waggle my brows. “Try me next time.”
“Oh, I will.”
I turn, but he catches my hand and spins me back to him, looping his arm around my lower back. “How’s this, pretty girl?” I am definitely giving him more blowies if this is what I get in return. A giggle bubbles up. Oh my God, I’m hopeless when it comes to this man.
I might have to take the key back if this is how I’ll be greeted.
“You must be Noah,” my mom’s voice travels the short hallway.
My body is left cold as Noah adjusts Max in his arms, and then stands straight as can be when he sees her. “Hello. Yes, ma’am.”
“Ma’am?” I eye him sideways. “When did you turn into a Southern gentleman?”
“I’m always a gentleman, Ms. Bancroft.”
“The baby in your arms would say otherwise,” I tease, enjoying this man squirming for the first time in his life. “By the way, this is my mom, Trudy Bancroft. Mimi to Maxwell. Mom, this is Noah—”
Max shouts, “Me.”
My mom holds her arms out for him as she speaks in baby talk. “Good boy, Maxie. Yes, I’m Mimi.”
Noah hands him over, but he appears reluctant. It’s good his papa bear instincts have kicked in, but it’s my mom, and he’ll always be safe with her.
My mom says, “Come in.”
“Yes, sorry,” I say, taking him by the hand and moving him inside so I can close the door. “Come in. Come in.” With my mom in the living room, Noah and I have the corner of the hall as cover. I smile just looking at him. Mouthing, I say, “She wanted to meet you.”
His grip tightens around my hand, and he starts walking, taking me right along with him. “Hello, I’m Noah Westcott.” He releases my hand to shake hers. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Same.” She studies his face and then glances at Maxwell. “I can see the resemblance.”
Noah smiles with pride. “I think it’s pretty even split between us. Liv’s eyes—”
“Your eyes,” I say.
“You think?” he says, looking at Max again.
Nudging his arm, I reply, “I know, silly.”
“I see so much of you in him.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, your nose. The shape of the eyes and your earlobes.” Instantly reaching for my lobes, I feel them. He adds, “Yours are detached. Mine are somewhere caught between the two.”
My mom looks at the two of us and then at Max. “That’s so interesting. I never noticed.” She comes around the couch, and says, “If you guys want to talk, I can take Max into the other room.”
Max is all smiles and drooling. He has the best attitude for someone growing teeth like it’s his business. As cute as he is, I look at Noah, wondering if we should just hop into the conversation we’ve put off for too long. “It would give us a few minutes before getting into the nitty gritty stuff.”
Noah reaches for him. “Do you mind if I hold him?”
“You don’t have to ask,” she says. “He’s your child.”
Noah takes him, wrapping his big arms around my little guy. Dipping his head beside Maxwell’s, he whispers, “I love you so much.”
My eyes meet my mom’s eyes where tears have welled in the corners. She reaches over and gives my hand a little squeeze, now understanding why I’m already crazy about this man.
“He is,” he says with a smile, still staring into Max’s eyes.
My heart aches, and it’s hard to swallow around the lump in my throat.
This is more than I hoped for and better than I thought possible.
Remembering how I banged on that door in the Hamptons, called so many places trying to find answers .
. . it was with a glimmer of hope I held deep inside me that Noah would want to be in my baby’s life.
And here he is, showing up daily to play his part. I take a staggering breath, overcome with emotion.
Noah reaches over and touches the side of my hand. “You alright?”
“Perfect.”
I’m given a satisfied grin before he turns to my mom. “I appreciate the offer, but I’d really like to spend some time with him before he goes to bed.”
My mom rubs Max’s back. “That’s the sweetest.” Turning to me, she says, “I will see myself out then.”
“Thank you for the help, Mom.”
“Of course, anytime.” Tickling Max, she adds, “Good night, Maxie.” She smiles at Noah. “Nice to meet you.”
He replies, “It was really nice to meet you, Mrs. Bancroft.”
She heads for the door. “You can call me Trudy or Mimi, but not Mrs. Bancroft.”
He laughs. “Understood, Mimi.”
Her own laughter fills the hallway as she walks to the door. “He’s a keeper, Olivia.” I know she doesn’t mean to imply that I get to have him as part of some package deal since he’s Max’s father, but I still smile and glance at Noah.
Chuckling, he says, “She’s not wrong.”
We’re starting to feel like we’re a team—not only with us and our deepening relationship but also with our families coming together. Turning toward him, I wrap my arms around him and look up. “No, she’s not.”
He rubs my back. “You know how I feel about you and Max already, but it bears repeating. You’re the best things to ever come into my life.”
I could swoon, and my knees are already weakening on impact, but I stand taller this time, not fading away but toe-to-toe with him. “You are the best thing to come into our lives, Noah Westcott. And I’ll always be grateful you’re so hot.”
Victory! He rolls his eyes. I’m quick to continue, “Because if you weren’t, we wouldn’t have this little guy.”
“Nice save, Bancroft.”
“I try. Anyway, it’s not like you were just hooking up with any old hag. Right?”
“If this is a ‘fishing for compliments’ expedition, let me reassure you. You’re not a hag, babe, and to prove it was raw physical attraction, your intellect was the last thing I cared about the night we met.”
“Geez, thanks.”
Chuckling, he adds, “Works both ways, sweetheart.” He sets Max down to run around and then plants himself on the back of the couch, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “What won you over once we reconnected in the office?”
“Your ass.” I laugh as I’m tugged in between his legs. “And your heart. Your arms. Your smile. Your eyes that told me I was more than a one-night stand.”
Rubbing the outside of my thighs, he asks, “How’d they tell you that?”
“The first time you laid eyes on me, you were genuinely happy to see me again.”
“It’s true, I was.” He cups the bottom of my ass. “And you couldn’t have been more the opposite.”
I brush the tips of my fingers through the hair above his ears. “I thought you didn’t call me on purpose. I thought that night was all in my head—how good it was. The physical connection was obvious, but I felt something deeper with you from the moment we met. I’m sorry for treating you so badly.”
“I don’t need an apology. It’s in the past.” He stands, his hands gliding up my arms and stopping on my shoulders to rub. “Like I said today, I’m happy. I feel it in my soul, and that’s because of you and Max.”
“Me too,” I start, “But we need to have that conversation and work out the details. Since it’s Max’s bedtime, should we do that first?”
“You relax. I got this.” He scoops Max into his arms and sends him into a fit of giggles right before disappearing into Max’s room.
I bide my time by getting a glass of water and thinking about what we should cover and what can be left for another day. I know we won’t solve every problem, but knowing where each of us stands will help.
I hear Max’s door open thirty minutes later, and then Noah appears. I ask, “How’d it go? I didn’t hear any crying.”
“No, he was good. We read a book, and he was ready for bed. Went down with no problem.”
He probably thinks that’s how it always is. Poor guy. He’s going to have a rude awakening. I laugh to myself.
Sitting next to me on the couch, he says, “I’ve been thinking about it. I don’t want to shake up his world. I just want to be a part of it.”
I couldn’t have found a better partner. “An equal part of it. You and he both deserve that.”
“I’d like that. What kind of arrangement works best for him and you?”
Noah always puts himself last in the equation.
And although I appreciate him always thinking of me, I don’t want him to feel like a backup parent, so I say the words I never expected to come from my mouth.
I won’t be the one to deny him this opportunity, the same one I’ve had all along.
“As much as it will pain me, just being honest, as a parent, I think he should stay with you sometimes. You two deserve time to build your bond even stronger. I want him to know we’re both in his corner, and he has two parents equally invested in his life and well-being. ”
So much weighs down his expression. I didn’t expect to be celebrating, but I thought this would make him happy.
He runs his hand through his hair and sighs.
“I want my son to have a full-time dad, and I find myself thinking about him all the time, worrying, and wanting to be around him any spare time I have. I meant it when I said I didn’t want to fight you over custody.
I won’t put either of you through that, so thank you for trusting me with his care and giving me the time we need together. ”
“It’s the right thing to do.”
“Maybe, but it’s also the harder thing to offer.”
Moving into the kitchen, I pull a glass from the cabinet, thinking wine might be nice to ease some of the tension I’ve been holding on to while waiting to have this conversation.
“I’ve been thinking that you’ll need help on the days you’re at work or if you have something unexpected come up.
If I’m unavailable, we need someone in place. ”
“I don’t know how to go about that.”
“Cassandra returns in two weeks. She works full time for me. If I cut her hours in half, she’ll have to find another job.”
He comes into the kitchen. “I could hire her, then Max would have the person he’s used to and likes.”
“That’s what I was thinking. He’s close to her, and they have a great bond. Whiskey or beer?”
“Whiskey.”
I pull the glass down and add ice, how he likes it, before pouring two fingers. After filling my glass with wine, I say, “Before he comes over, you’ll need to put together a nursery and child-proof your apartment."
"I’ll take care of that, but I have a question for you.”
Taking a sip, I then set the glass on the counter and spin the stem between my fingers. “You’re keeping me in suspense. What is it?”
“What do I have to do to convince you to come over too?”
I can kiss him all night for that, but I resist knowing where kissing him leads. Instead, I reply, “Just ask.”
Noah did ask.
Once the nursery was set up a few days later, and the apartment was child-proofed, he asked us both to come for our first sleepover. And somehow, from that time, whether it be at my place or his, spending every night together was all that mattered anymore.