2. Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Lily
My mind struggles to process what my eyes see. It’s him. I wasn't prepared to see him ever again and the recognition hits me like a punch, leaving me breathless and disoriented. The air seems to vanish, leaving me with a crushing sense of disbelief.
“What are you doing here?” he demands, his voice laden with accusation.
“I live here,” I reply, my tone defensive and tight.
“No,” he retorts, “I live here.”
“I live in the guesthouse,” I clarify. “Noah Linder owns this house.”
The smirk on his face says it all. He is Noah Linder. My world has just taken a very, very wrong turn.
"This can’t be happening," I mutter, turning to leave.
"Wait," he calls after me. "Where are you going?"
"I'm going home," I say, my voice rigid. The heat creeping up my neck and spreading across my face is enough to keep me from looking back at him.
I'm thankful to God in heaven when he doesn't stop me.
Once inside my house— his house, I pull out my phone and call Loren, one of my best friends.
“Hi, Lily,” Loren’s soothing voice immediately calms my nerves.
“Thank goodness you're still awake," I blurt out. "You're not going to believe what happened!”
As I recount today's events, she bursts into laughter while I fight the rising urge to cry.
“I can’t believe you’re laughing!” I protest. “Were you even listening?”
"I was listening," she replies, still chuckling. "Uncle Noah might not look like Dad on the outside, but inside, he's just like him."
"I find that really hard to believe. He was rude, obnoxious, and arrogant."
"Whoa," she says, her laughter fading. "That's not Noah at all."
“You’re supposed to be my bestie!” I retort. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”
Her tone turns comforting. “Lily, you know I love you, and if it comes down to it, I’ll always have your back.”
“What should I do?” I ask, feeling overwhelmed. “He’s my landlord!”
"I think you should march back to the house and talk to him," Loren suggests.
"Yeah, no," I reply. "I’m not doing that."
"You’re going to have to face him eventually. Like you said, he’s your landlord."
“Ugh, don’t remind me!”
“It’s going to be okay, I promise,” Loren reassures me, though her words do little to ease my anxiety.
“Okay,” I agree, though I’m far from convinced. “How are you holding up? Still feeling sick?”
“Carrying twins is tougher than I ever imagined," she sighs. "I'm hungry all the time, but the thought of eating makes me ill. I'm tired, cranky and bloated."
“Are you managing to enjoy your vacation despite the morning sickness?” I ask, concerned.
“I’m going to enjoy every second of it,” she says. I can hear the smile in her voice.
"I wish I was there to take care of you," I say.
"You wish you were here because you wish you weren't there."
"True," I admit. "I'm not gonna lie. I wish I were anywhere but here."
"Take a deep breath, go to bed, and call me in the morning."
"Yes, Dr. Baldwin," I chuckle softly. "I love you, Loren. Have a good night."
"Love you too. Talk to you tomorrow."
I hang up the phone and reflect on the fact that I never mentioned just how incredibly good-looking I think her uncle is. No, I'm keeping that to myself.
***
As I slip under the covers, my mind races back to everything I did this month in preparation for Noah's arrival, thinking I was going to meet and love another wonderful member of the Linder family.
I wish I could hit the reset button on today. I was rude to him, but only because he was such a jerk to me. He didn’t even give me a chance to apologize before he unleashed his temper. He only backed off after he saw the ducks crossing the road. It was satisfying to watch the smug look on his face dissolve into chagrin.
Being called "kid" really ticked me off. But calling him "sir"? That hit a nerve. I smile, savoring the memory of the look on his face.
His face—chiseled and more handsome than any man should be allowed to be. Yeah, I totally checked him out. There he stood, in the middle of the road, holding his little boy’s hand. He was seething, but there was a fierce protectiveness in his gaze. His eyes bored into me like molten lava. He was furious, ready to pounce. I could feel his gaze burning into me as I walked away.
“Lily, get a grip," I scold myself. This man could be my father—but he’s not. He’s tall, rugged, and undeniably attractive. His muscular arms and broad shoulders strained against his T-shirt, hinting at strength that made my pulse race. His thick, dark blond hair and those warm cinnamon eyes were so alluring that I couldn't look away. He exudes raw masculinity, the kind that tempts me to let my imagination run wild.
I thought he was a stranger I'd never see again, but now I have to face a new reality. The man I've been thinking about all day is not only my neighbor but also my landlord—and a member of the Linder family, the closest thing I've had to a real family in a long time.
I toss and turn in bed, desperate to distract myself, but my thoughts keep spiraling back. At twenty-three, I should be laser-focused on my plans to open my daycare. This town is where I'm planting my roots and building my future. With my mother gone and my father living sixteen hundred miles away, the Linders are the only family I have. They welcomed me with open arms; I can't risk losing that. Period. I'll have to swallow my pride and apologize to my rude, smoking-hot landlord. Ugh!
***
Sleep eludes me, leaving me to face the morning with a sense of dread. As I drag myself into the kitchen, the thought of what I must do today weighs heavily on me. Maybe I can avoid him altogether—slip the rent check into his mailbox every month and never have to face him. But I quickly remind myself of who he is. I've known the Linders for four years, and for the past eight months, I've been a fixture at every family gathering—Sunday dinners, holidays, birthdays, and every special family event—I've been there for all of it. There's no escaping him. I'm doomed!
I'm so lost in thought that I jump when the toaster dings, signaling my half-bagel is ready. I pour myself a glass of orange juice and spread a generous layer of cream cheese on the bagel. Finding a few strawberries in the fridge, I slice them up and arrange them on my plate. As beautiful as it all looks, every bite tastes bland. Sadder still is the fact that I know it's not the food but my mood that's the culprit.
"Do you want to apologize now or later?" I mutter to myself. Later. Definitely later.
I distract myself by doing laundry, scrubbing every surface in the bathroom, changing the sheets on my bed, and browsing online for more classroom furniture.
By eleven o'clock, I'm heading out the door to meet my investors for lunch. Laura and Charles Clay are providing most of the funding I need to open the daycare.
The Clays are life-long friends of the Linders, and the idea for the daycare actually came from Laura. She wanted to create a safe space for small children whose parents visit the art studio next door, allowing them the time to focus on making their art pieces without worry. During the day, we'll provide daycare for working parents, and whenever a customer from Just In Clay Ceramics comes in, we'll watch their little ones for an hourly rate. The studio has a connecting door to the daycare, making it very convenient for parents. Construction is complete, and I couldn't be more excited. We aim to open by September when kids are going back to school and just in time to catch the holiday rush from the studio, which will be a huge boost for the daycare.
After lunch, I stop by Just In Clay to speak with Zoe, the manager. Sam, the owner of the studio, installed a state-of-the-art childcare management program on the computer that integrates the system between the studio and the daycare. This will ensure we can keep track of all the children, including those who are one-time visitors, streamlining everything from check-ins to hourly updates. It will provide parents with real-time information and will give everyone peace of mind. Zoe and I are learning the program together to ensure a seamless connection by the time we open.
As the studio begins to buzz with activity, I stick around to help Zoe.
"Thanks for everything," Zoe smiles as I head for the door a couple of hours later. "I’ll see you next week."
"Absolutely," I reply, returning the smile. "See you then."
Once in the car, I debate whether I should face the music now or later. I choose later.
***
"Hi, Sharon," I greet her as she opens the door.
"Hi, Lily. Come in. You're just in time to help me with dinner."
I manage a lackluster smile. "What are you making?"
"What's wrong?" she asks, her eyes sharp and perceptive.
I let out a heavy sigh. "Oh, Sharon, I've really messed up."
"No, you haven't," she reassures me, guiding me to a seat. "Sit down."
Darn it! He beat me to the punch. She already knows.
"I take it you spoke with my landlord," I say, leaving out the smoking hot part.
"He called last night," she begins, her voice softening. "He feels awful about everything. He wants to make things right and start fresh."
"If only I could hit rewind on yesterday," I say, feeling frustrated.
"Don't worry about it," she smiles. "Noah's just a big teddy bear."
"More like a grizzly bear, if you ask me."
"Once he gets to know you, he’ll love you just as much as we do, and you'll feel the same about him."
"I highly doubt that."
Sharon gives me a questioning glance, one eyebrow raised, prompting me to quickly add, "Sorry, did I just say that out loud?"
"What did you think of Davey?" she asks.
"We only exchanged a few words, but he seems like a sweet little kid. Must take after his mother."
"His mother left them a year ago. She gave Noah a divorce and custody of Davey."
Guilt washes over me. "I'm so sorry," I say softly. "That was completely inappropriate."
She gives me a half-smile, a silent acknowledgment that I'm forgiven.
I help her prepare eggplant parmesan for dinner and chocolate mousse for dessert.
At exactly six o'clock, the doorbell rings. My eyes widen as I realize the only ones who could be joining us for dinner are Noah and his son—everyone else is in Florida. Sharon notices my reaction and smiles, squeezing my hand reassuringly.
"It'll be fine," she says before answering the door.
I glance down at my outfit and shake my head, realizing I don't look presentable. I'm not wearing any makeup, and I threw on old jeans, tennis shoes, and my Boston College T-shirt before rushing out this morning. I don't even remember brushing my hair after I showered. Ugh!
Davey bounds into the kitchen first and smiles wide as soon as he sees me.
"Hi!" he exclaims.
"Hi, Davey. How are you?"
"I'm good," he replies eagerly. "What's your name?"
"Lily," I say, smiling back at him.
"How do you know my name?" he asks.
"Your Aunt Sharon and Uncle Jon told me all about you."
"Are you my auntie too?"
"No, I'm your family's friend."
"Can we be friends?" he asks, his blue eyes full of hope.
"Of course, we can, Sweetie," I respond warmly.
"I'm five. How old are you?"
"I'm twenty-three."
"Wow," he exclaims. "That's a lot of years."
I can't help it; I burst out laughing.
"You're adorable," I say. "I think we're going to be good friends."
"Your eyes are pretty," he says looking intently at me.
"Thank you," I say, smiling. "Your eyes are—"
"I agree," Noah's husky voice stops me in my tracks. "Your eyes are beautiful."
I look up to see him leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, watching us with a hint of amusement in his brown eyes.