AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Stowed in a garage in Florida. I have broached him on the subject of selling it. Once.” He raised a brow meaningfully. “Once.”
I could only imagine how that went over, but I could understand why Noah held on to it. As a keepsake of his former days where speed and danger were his norm. And to think, it was now holed up in a dark garage somewhere, never to be driven again.
“And now, my dear, we come to the most important of duties.”
Lucien pressed a slip of paper into my hand. It was a prescription order, signed by several doctors and listing my name at the bottom as “authorized to refill.” There were several antidepressants listed and a drug called Azapram. I’d never heard of it.
“This is the refill order for Noah’s medications. He won’t take any of the antidepressants, so you don’t have to bother with those unless he asks, but the last, Azapram, is for his migraines. He is only permitted twelve tablets at a time, as this drug is extremely powerful—and likely addictive—but it must be refilled before he runs out.” Lucien pressed the paper into my hand. “I cannot stress this enough. Noah mustneverrun out of these pills. If he were to do so and then suffer one of his migraines, I shudder to think what would happen.”
I shivered. “They’re really bad, these migraines?”
“They are abominable.” Lucien’s blue eyes clouded with sadness. “I remember, in the days before they created this drug, his suffering. Only morphine could stop the pain that wracked my poor boy.”
I felt my throat go dry. “Does he get them frequently?”
“They seem to make an appearance once every month or so. But so long as he takes the Azapram immediately, his suffering is minimal.”
I nodded solemnly and took the paper. “I’ll stay up on it. I promise.”
Lucien made to leave, and at the front door, he took my hand in his and patted it gently.
“I’m so pleased that you are here. I live in the city but am frequently away on business, always fearing what may happen to him in my absence. For the first time, Noah will have constant support. Given time, he can’t help but warm to you and then perhaps…” His blue eyes shone as his words trailed. “I can’t help but feel a sense of hope for my Noah. Thank you, Charlotte, for being here.”
I know Lucien didn’t mean to, but I felt the weight of the pressure put on me by his hopeful smile and heartfelt words. I wanted to tell him that I “didn’t exist” for Noah until he needed me to and that the idea of him warming to me seemed as far-fetched as unicorns suddenly prancing through the townhouse.
But Lucien was looking at me with such kindness.
I plastered on a smile. “I’m sure we’ll get along great.”
chapter ten
My first day on the job I woke up to an alarm clock, not to roommates having sex on the other side of paper-thin walls. The shower—myshower—was unoccupied, and when I made coffee in the kitchen upstairs, I had time to myself to savor it in peace. I sat and listened to the street noises outside, thinking the whole of New York City was open to me in a way it hadn’t been before. I wasn’t rolling in dough, by any stretch, but for the first time in a long time I could grab drinks with friends or see a movie without stressing over the dent those small expenses would put in my bank account.
I glanced down at my clothes: jeans and an old T-shirt. Not much in the way of style, but then I’d spent most of my days in a work uniform. I didn’t know what my style was. Now that I had a bit of discretionary spending, I thought I’d find out. But first, I had a job to do, and I meant to do it well.
Lucien had told me that since his rehab in White Plains, Noah’s sleep patterns were irregular. I sipped my coffee and listened for movement upstairs that would tell me it was okay to go up and gather the laundry. Silence. No creaking floorboards or anything else. Noah’s breakfast was at nine o’clock. I figured I’d wait until I made that delivery to start on his clothes.
I made a simple breakfast for myself—eggs and bacon—then went out to retrieve Noah’s order. Every other Monday, it came from a little café on 75th. Just a Danish and a latte. I made the walk under brilliant spring sunshine, a bounce in my step and a smile on my face that I wasn’t rushing around, waiting tables and praying for good tips.
I returned to the house with the breakfast and went up to the third floor. The door was ajar, but the room beyond was dark. I peeked my head in. Noah was sitting where he’d been the day before—at the table and chairs near the window—in exactly the same position: hunched at his desk, earbuds in. Thick, heavy curtains were drawn shut, keeping the room dim.
The scene was so identical to yesterday, I almost wondered if Noah had moved at all. But his clothing was different: black pants instead of gray and a white T-shirt.
Is this his entire life now? Just reading. Not even reading, listening to someone else read.
“Noah?” I called from the door. “Breakfast.”
He waved a hand without turning and I brought him the pastry and coffee. He didn’t look up when I approached, but then he couldn’t look—would neverlookat me. I set the coffee and little white bag on the table.
“On your right,” I said in a slightly louder than normal voice.
“Fine, thanks,” he muttered, his head down, eyes closed.
“I’m going to start laundry, if that works for you.”
He pulled out an earbud and cocked his head toward me, his gaze landing on my chin. This, I would soon learn, was his way of making eye contact.
“Are you going to check with me before you carry out all of your duties?” he asked. “Or can you manage to…you know…justdo them?”
