Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 129084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
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?”