8. Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Lily
After our date, Noah and I pick up Davey and head home. Davey is cranky and wants to go to bed as soon as we walk in. I offer to take him upstairs, but he says he wants Noah.
"I'm going to do some work for a little bit," Noah says gently. "But I will come up to give you a kiss goodnight."
While Davey showers, I leave his pajamas on the bathroom counter. Then, I pull down the comforter on his bed and choose a book for us to read together.
When he walks out of the bathroom, I notice he’s unusually quiet. "Are you feeling okay, Davey?" I ask softly, touching his forehead.
He doesn’t answer and simply climbs into bed, pulling the covers around him. "Do you want to read a book?" I ask.
"Are you going to be my new mommy?" His voice is quiet, but it still manages to freeze me in place.
"No, sweetie," I reply, my heart pounding. "You already have a mommy who loves you more than anything."
His little face is uncertain, and he looks like he might cry. "I want Daddy."
His words hang in the air, heavier than I expected. "Okay," I whisper, my throat tight. "I'll get him for you. Goodnight, sweetie."
I lean in to kiss his forehead, but he turns away, pulling the covers up as if to shield himself from me. I turn off the lights and head back downstairs, my steps heavy with the weight of Davey's rejection. When I reach Noah's office, I knock softly.
"What’s wrong?" he asks as soon as he sees me, concern etched on his face.
"Nothing," I say, forcing a smile I don't feel. "It’s nothing."
He studies me, his voice gentle. "Sweetheart, you don’t have a poker face. What’s going on?"
I hesitate, and then the words spill out: "Davey asked if I was going to be his new mommy. He was clearly upset."
Noah’s brows knit together. "He's tired. Are you sure you’re not reading too much into it?”
I shake my head. "No. He wouldn’t let me read to him. He wanted you, not me. And when I tried to kiss him goodnight, he turned away. He didn’t want me near him, Noah."
"Okay," he says. "I'll go up to tuck him in. Please wait for me. I'll be right back."
He pulls me into a tender kiss, his lips gentle against mine. The world falls away for a moment, and all I can feel is him, solid and reassuring.
When he returns thirty minutes later, he finds me perched on the edge of the couch, anxiously waiting for him to tell me what he discovered.
"What is it?" I ask, my heart sinking the moment I see the look on his face.
He sighs, his expression troubled. "Davey talked to his mom while we were out. It sounds like she had a lot of questions about us… and it’s left him a little confused."
My breath catches, worry knotting in my chest. "Oh, no," I whisper, unsure what to do next.
"It'll be fine," he says. "I'll talk to Marian tomorrow and straighten everything out."
"What are you going to tell her?" I ask, anxiety creeping into my voice. The thought of defining what we have, especially so early in our relationship, feels overwhelming.
"The truth," he says, his gaze steady. "I’m going to tell her I’ve met an incredible woman—someone beautiful, kind, smart, and who takes my breath away more with each passing day."
"Really?" I ask, almost incredulously. "What about Davey?"
"Davey loves you," he says, his tone gentle. "He has a mom, and as long as we keep reinforcing that your role in our lives is entirely separate from the relationship he has with Marian, he'll come to accept it. It’s just going to take some time."
"What is my role, Noah?" I ask, wanting clarity. "What are we doing, exactly?"
He looks at me, his eyes softening. "I'm crazy about you, Sweetheart."
"Really?" I murmur, smiling but still unsure.
"Yes," he replies, a broad smile spreading across his face. "I don’t know if you’ve realized it yet, but I’m falling. I’m falling hard."
"Me too," I admit, letting my guard down completely and opening my heart to this man.
When he hugs me, I sink into his arms and breathe in the familiar scent of his cologne, letting it mingle with the sigh of relief that escapes me.
I glance into his eyes, searching for any sign of uncertainty. Finding nothing but warmth and assurance, I rise on my tiptoes and kiss him. It's a slow, rhythmic kiss that quickly builds in intensity as if we're both trying to convey everything we've been feeling in this perfect moment.
He gently pulls away after a few seconds. “Let me walk you home,” he murmurs breathlessly.
I hesitate, searching for the right words to express my feelings. What would he say if I told him I don't want to go, that I want to stay here with him?
The coward in me stays silent, so he walks me home, our hands entwined the entire way. At the door, he kisses me gently and reassures me once more. "I'll talk to Marian in the morning. Don't worry, Davey's little and just needs to be reassured."
"Okay," I say. He starts to turn away, but I keep hold of his hand. "Noah, I had a great time tonight."
He brings my hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to it before letting it go. "Me too. Goodnight, Sweetheart."
I walk into my house, relieved to see it free of daycare furniture and supplies. The space feels open and welcoming again. I flop onto the couch and grab my phone to call Loren, the only person who knows everything.
"Loren," I say, my voice betraying my distress.
"What's wrong?" she asks.
I explain everything, my emotions spilling out as I speak. By the time I finish, I’m almost in tears.
"Take a breath, Lily," she says softly. "It’s going to be okay."
"Loren, if Davey doesn’t like me—"
"He likes you," she says, her voice certain. "I talked to him on the phone the last time Noah called. He couldn't stop talking about you."
"I think that was before today," I say. "When Noah and I got back, he—"
"That's right," she says. "How was your date?" Her voice is brimming with curiosity.
"It was perfect," I say, smiling as I speak. "Loren, I’m crazy about him."
"I'm happy for you both," she says, her voice warm and sincere. "You two are perfect for each other."
"You really think so?" I ask, needing to be reassured.
"Absolutely," she replies, her enthusiasm unwavering. "You deserve to be happy, Lily. You've been through a lot."
A familiar ache tugs at my heart. The truth is like a shadow, creeping in when I least expect it.
"I haven’t told him," I confess, my voice trembling. "I’m terrified, Loren—terrified that it’s too soon, or that I’ve waited too long, and that when I finally do, he won’t want me."
"You have nothing to worry about," she says, her tone steady. "He’ll understand, and it won't change anything, I promise."
"I hope you're right," I whisper, praying she's right.
After I get off the phone, I make some chamomile tea, hoping it will calm my nerves and ease the lingering anxiety.
I take a slow sip of my tea, then reach for the autographed copy of Noah’s book. It’s hard to believe so much has happened since he signed it for me. The special moment is still fresh in my memory, and the words he wrote are forever etched in my heart.
Lily,
I’m honored that these pages made an impression on you.
Although nothing can compare to the impression you've made on me.
Here’s to the chapters that are yet to be written.
Warmly,
Noah
I wonder what he would write now.
My thoughts drift back to the kiss we shared at the house, the memory lingering like a sweet ache. If he had whispered, "Stay," I would have given in without hesitation. What I feel for him runs deeper than mere attraction—it’s a connection that scares me with its intensity. The thought of anything coming between us fills me with a fear I can’t ignore. But that fear only confirms what I’ve known in my heart all along: I love this man and his son with every piece of me.
Everything changes the moment the words leave my lips. I have to tell him.
The familiar ringtone on my phone signals my father's call, reminding me it's been over a week since we last spoke. I set my teacup on the side table and quickly answer. "Hi, Dad," I say, a twinge of guilt creeping in for not calling him sooner.
"Hola, Carino," he says, using the Spanish term of endearment for "darling" that he’s called me for as long as I can remember. "I'm sorry I haven't called."
"It's okay, Dad. I should've called you first."
“How’s the daycare coming along?”
I hesitate, bracing myself. “We hit a bit of a snag.”
I explain my ankle injury, pausing before adding, “But Noah’s been incredible. He arranged to paint the space and moved all the furniture and supplies in. Thanks to him, it’s almost done.”
“Noah… your landlord?”
“Yes,” I reply, sensing the tension creeping into his voice.
“Mija,” he begins, using the term of endearment that always signals a teachable moment—or worse, concern. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Why is your landlord involved in your business matters?”
Ugh. I realize I’ve said too much, probably with more enthusiasm than I should have. I can’t seem to talk about Noah without smiling, without this rush of excitement about what the future might hold.
I take a breath, my heart skipping a beat. "Dad, I like him."
“Like him?” he repeats, and I can almost see his eyebrow arching. “You might want to clarify exactly what that means because it sounds like you’re saying you like like him. But I’m sure you mean he’s a good landlord and a nice man you appreciate, right?”
"I love him, Dad."
He goes silent, and I can almost picture him in his favorite recliner, phone pressed to his ear, rubbing the five o'clock shadow on his face as he processes my words.
"Lily Sophia Cruz. He's old enough to be your father. He's divorced, and he has a child. Absolutely not!"
“With all due respect, Dad, I’m not asking for your permission. I’m just letting you know how I feel.”
“You’re not ready to handle that much responsibility, Carino. You’re way too young, and he’s too old. You’ll have to deal with his ex-wife and with his son's rejection because he will never accept you as his mother.”
Dad’s words cut deep, each one a sharp reminder that he's not one to measure his words or hold back when voicing his concerns.
“I appreciate your honesty, Dad," I say begrudgingly.
“Does this man know how you feel?” he asks, his voice edged with skepticism. “Because if he has any common sense, he’ll tell you exactly what I’m telling you.”
“We’ve only been on one date,” I confess. “We’re getting to know each other, but I already know how strongly I feel for him.”
“You’re infatuated. It’s a crush. You’re young, naive, innocent, inexperienced—”
“Please, don’t hold back, Dad,” I snap, my tone sharp and accusatory.
“You didn’t answer my question," he counters. "Does he know how you feel?”
“We both know,” I say with conviction. “Even if neither of us has said the words, we both feel them.”
"Have you told him about—? Mija, I don't want you to get your hopes up and end up with a broken heart."
There it is—like a dagger, sharp and sudden. I knew it was only a matter of time before my father brought up the one mistake that nearly destroyed me. The one that cost me everything and left me in pieces, struggling to put myself back together.
“Dad, I will tell him when the time is right.”
“But, Lily—"
“All I ask is that you trust me," I say, interrupting his train of thought. "Let me tell him when I'm ready."
“Of course I trust you,” he says, his tone softening. "I just want you to be happy."
There’s a heavy pause before he speaks again. “I’m coming to see you next week,” he says, the promise hanging in the air like a storm cloud, more ominous than reassuring.
After I hang up the phone, I pour myself another cup of tea, realizing not even the whole pot could soothe the storm of emotions raging inside me.
***
"I'm taking Davey shopping for school clothes," Noah says during breakfast. "Would you like to go with us?"
"I have a few things to do at home," I say, keeping my tone light. "You two go ahead."
Davey is still distant, but at least he's answering my questions and didn’t refuse to eat this morning. I glance at Noah, wishing I could read his mind and uncover what he and his ex-wife talked about last night. When he catches my look, a slow smile spreads across his lips, then he winks, effortlessly sparking a flutter deep in my chest that makes me smile back.
"Will you be back before lunch, or are you planning to eat out?"
"We can pick up a pizza on our way home," Noah replies. Then, turning to Davey, he adds, "Go put your shoes on, Buddy, so we can get going."
Davey hops off his chair and dashes up the stairs, leaving Noah and me alone in the quiet kitchen. Noah glances toward the stairs, then stands and steps closer, his eyes locking with mine as he reaches for my hand. When I stand, he pulls me into him, his lips meeting mine in a sweet, gentle kiss that leaves me craving more.
"Kiss me again," I whisper, my gaze locked with his.
“With pleasure,” he murmurs, smiling before capturing my lips once more. But as soon as we hear Davey's footsteps on the stairs, Noah’s lips reluctantly part from mine, and he gently releases me from his warm embrace.
I smile and begin clearing the table.
After they head out, I load the dishwasher and go upstairs to tackle the mess in Davey's playroom. The housekeeper Noah hired a few weeks ago comes in three times a week, but Davey's playroom is the one spot that demands daily attention. I love spending time in this room, surrounded by the joyful chaos of childhood—every corner brimming with happiness and discovery.
I let sadness grip me, just for a moment, as I face the possibility that I might never be a mom. But then I force it deep down, locking it away in the darkest recess of my mind.
Half an hour later, just as I’m about to head out the back door, the doorbell rings. I open it and find a delivery guy holding a stunning bouquet of red roses and white lilies.
“Lily Cruz?” he asks.
"Yes," I smile taking the flowers from him, my heart fluttering as I carry them inside. Setting them gently on the kitchen counter, I reach for the small card attached.
Lily, I had a wonderful time last night. I can’t wait to ask you out again. I’m crazy about you. Noah
"I love you, Noah," I whisper, letting the words linger in the air like the delicate fragrance of these beautiful flowers.