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“The nightstand drawer of condoms helps with that conclusion too,” I tell him.
“Right, then you can show me why both of those tell you that I have sex on a regular basis and afterwards, if you’re still able to walk when I’m through with you, we will take my boy to watch a silly movie, eat pizza and maybe share some ice cream.”
I swallow. I like what Noah just described. I liked all of it, and although the middle part sounded fucking awesome, for some reason a movie and dinner with him and his son sounded even better.
“Noah, you don’t understand—” I start. He’s never dealt with Tony and he doesn’t know my brother. He doesn’t know the power he can wield or the pain and destruction he gets off on causing. I don’t want to tell him about it either, but I might have if Noah hadn’t stuck his finger against my lips and stopped me.
“You can’t run your whole life, Rory. Trust me, running doesn’t solve everything. Maybe it’s time you and I both quit running.”
His words confuse me. I want to ask what he’s running from, but I don’t, mainly because I think he’s probably right. I’m twenty-eight years old. I’ll be twenty-nine in another month. I don’t want to be sixty with no family, no one that cares about me, still on the run from… dickweeds.
“I come with a lot of baggage, Noah, and some of it is not good. Tony might be a…dickweed, but he’s a mean one and let’s face it…”
“Face it?”
“You run hot and cold. You don’t even know if you truly want me anywhere in your life. You asking me to stay isn’t exactly something I feel secure with, not with my baggage.”
“So, you’re saying you wouldn’t bet on me for the long race,” he says and I give him a nod to indicate my yes.
“Everyone has baggage. My turning hot and cold is part of mine. I’m pretty sure your baggage is much easier to tackle than mine and I also think you might be worth the baggage, Gorgeous. Which means, you’re going to stay right here and I’m going to stay right here. We’ll face the baggage together.
“I’m not sure,” I tell him honestly, although it must be said that I like this Noah much better than the one who was cold earlier when he found me with his son.
“Then how about this? Give me today and see how that feels. You like it, then we’ll try it. You don’t? I’ll help you pack,” he says and I know the smart thing to do would be to say no—or maybe even hell, no. I mean to say it, I really do.
Instead, I just shake my head yes. Noah kisses me again, although this one is light. But, he keeps me in his arms, even when Ryan comes back in the room, dressed for school and demanding to finish decorating the pancakes. Pancakes that are cold by now and obviously not going to show how awesome my homemade batter is.
But they were cold pancakes shared with the sexiest man I ever met, the cutest little boy I’ve ever seen, and with Noah’s kissing whipped cream off the side of my mouth—which he did with Ryan in the room.
And all that made them the best pancakes ever.29Diesel“That was an awesome movie, Ryan,” Rory tells him.
As for me I don’t remember much of the movie. I remember my son laughing and curling into Rory’s arms despite the armrest of the seat he was in. I remember her wrapping her arm around him and asking him questions about the movie. They were questions she probably already knew the answer to—or didn’t care about—but she asked because she knew Ryan would enjoy showing her how well he knew the characters. She made him feel important. Ryan has never had that in his life, not from a woman and it was plain to see that he was starved for it.
For me the night has been an exercise in self-torture. Watching Rory with my son, watching her interact with him. Getting her soft looks and touches myself, watching as my son received the same. It looked genuine. Fuck, it felt genuine. It felt good and I know that the same good I was feeling, my child was too. In fact, if I was going to go back in life and have the power to choose the one woman to be Ryan’s mother. It might have been her.
It would have been her.
I can admit that. I’m a grown ass man. Rory ticks off all of the fucking boxes I never knew I carried around when it came to women in my life.
Smart. Check.
Funny. Check.
Sassy as fuck. Double check.
Sweet. As fucking sugar… check.
Loving.
I watch her for a moment. Ryan’s body curled into her. His hand pressed tight against her side, her arm holding him and his tiny hand holding her, splayed across her stomach. His slice of pepperoni pizza half gone, but my boy is full because he had a shit load of popcorn at the movies while the three of us tried to discover who could throw it in the air and catch it with their mouths most often.
