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“I think they’re out,” I said, trying my best to push aside how I was feeling toward him at those moments.
He nodded. “Good – they need their rest. The monitors will let us know if they need anything.”
He placed his hand on the small of my back. “Here, let’s go have a drink and talk it over. Whiskey for Da, club soda for Ma. Come on.”
We reached the den, Noah heading over to the bar and grabbing a bottle of whiskey, then bending over to the mini-fridge and plucking out a can of club soda. I watched him work, slicing a lime and scooping some crushed ice for my drink, tossing a couple of cubes, and adding a splash of booze to his.
He glanced up as he worked, giving me an expression of slight confusion.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing. Just thinking about how the kids are asleep and we’re still able to make noise. When those two go down in my place, I’m tiptoeing around for the next few hours praying I don’t bang into anything.”
My words turned his confusion into a small smile as he went back to making the drinks. I glanced into the kitchen as he worked, spotting the stack of pizza boxes, and having a good feeling that very few slices were going to be eaten tonight.
“One of the advantages of having space – the kids can sleep, and Mom can actually relax when they’re down.”
He stepped around the bar with a glass in each hand, one dark and one clear with a sliver of green at the top. When he was close, he outstretched his arm and handed me the clear one.
“Slainte,” he said, raising his glass and offering what I knew to be the traditional Irish toast.
“Slainte.”
We tapped glasses and then I sipped, the soda water refreshing and fizzy, the lime adding just the right amount of tartness.
“I wanted to talk to you about that, this—” he swept his arm around the room, indicating the den and the rest of the enormous home. “I know I’ve made my stance on the matter pretty clear, but I want you to move in.”
“Noah—”
“And I want you to do it tonight.”
Those words were more than enough to silence me on the spot.
“Now, I’m a doctor, which means I’m used to thinking about problems in a certain sort of way – logically and ordered. So, that’s how I’ve been thinking about you moving in.”
Part of me wanted to cut him off, to tell him that this was too much to be thinking about before Cammy showed up. But the look in his eyes suggested that he wanted to say his piece. I decided to let him.
“It’s very simple,” he began. “I’ll lay it out for you. First, you need help. I can provide that, not just by being the father, but by hiring whatever extra help you’d need. I’m sure you want to be there for the kids as much as possible, but in time, you might want an additional hand around to look after them for a few hours – especially when you want to go back to work.”
I said nothing. So far, he was right.
“You also need space. And I’ve got plenty of it here. I’m sure you could have made things work in that small apartment if you had to, but you and I can both agree it’s far from ideal. Then there’s the matter of me being a doctor. Those kids need anything to do with their health, I can either provide it immediately or find someone who can.”
I stayed silent.
“Finally…they’re my kids. I already love them like mad and having them here is important to me.” He stepped closer to me, taking my free hand into his. “I care about them, and I care about you. Let me help; let me take care of all of us.”
He was making good points, but in those moments, all I could think about was how good his hand felt on mine, how I wanted his touch over every single part of my body. I closed my eyes for a long second, savoring the sensation of his skin on mine, remembering what it was like to have him on top of me.
It took all the effort I had to slip my hand away from his. I turned my back to him, bringing a nervous sip of my drink to my lips before setting the drink down on the nearest table.
“You alright?” he asked.
I closed my eyes and gave myself a few seconds of deep, slow breathing. I didn’t want to say what I had to say next, but it needed to be out there.
When I was ready, I turned.
“Everything you’re saying is correct. And when you look at it like that, there doesn’t seem to be any good reason for why I shouldn’t move in with you.”
