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She jerks her head in my direction. “You did not!”
“I did,” I say, grinning. “What’s wrong with a good PSL? Isn’t it the official drink of fall?” I’ve never had a PSL, but Hannah and her girlfriends were obsessed with them. I’d even heard them refer to themselves asbasicfor loving the drink, which I never understood.
“There’s way better fall drinks. Please tell me you know that,” Noah begs. “I don’t think we can be friends if you think pumpkin spice lattes are the king of fall drinks.”
There was the word.Friends. I’ve never had a female friend who wasn’t a casual acquaintance from work or part of a larger group. I’m lost in thought about what being good friends—just friends—with Noah would look like. The barista sets our drinks in front of us, waiting for payment.
“I got it.” Money’s tight, but it feels wrong to not pay for her drink after inviting her to have coffee with me. I slap a credit card on the counter, but Noah shoos my hand away.
“This one’s on me,” she says, handing her own credit card to the barista.
Our back and forth on the drive to grab coffee lowered my guard. I need the lightness talking with her provides. It takes away the heavy that clogs my thoughts.
Taking a sip of my drink, I pick out a two-seater near the window.
“So, what’s new?”
“Besides all the brain-rotting back-to-school shopping? Not much. With Rainey, my days are pretty limited to my house, the library, or the reservoir park. I’m hoping her return to school will be good for us both. She’ll get into a routine and I’ll get back to work.”
The way Noah talks forces me to assume she’s raising Rainey alone. Maybe there’s noboyfriend, but does she have an ex in the picture?
She talks about work and her team’s current projects. Her passion for graphic design and art shines through so clearly, making me a little jealous. I change the subject and share about my upcoming move, leaving out some details—like requesting my deposit be split. I gloat that I, too, will soon walk my daughter to school, and Noah sticks her tongue out at me.
“Sounds like a nice fit. When’s moving day?” Her interest feels genuine.
“Wednesday. Maybe Thursday? I need to tell Maggie first.”
She tilts her head and raises her eyebrows. “You haven’t told your daughter you’re moving? Has she seen her new home?”
“Not yet. I wanted to get through the first day of school, but I’m going to surprise her tonight.”
“You need to tell her,” Noah insists. “I moved a lot as a kid and it was always hard. The times I had a heads-up were easier than the ones with no notice.” Her strong feelings on the matter take me aback.
“You’re probably right. Would you have told your daughter right away?”
Noah bunches her eyebrows together, confusion apparent in her eyes. “Rainey?”
“Well, yeah. Unless you’ve got another kid hidden away somewhere.”
“Logan, Rainey isn’t my daughter.”
Now I’m confused, and it’s my turn to raise and furrow my brows. If Rainey isn’t her daughter, who is she? A much-younger sister? A cousin? A step-daughter? Does Noah volunteer as a Big Sister?
“She’s my niece, and I’m caring for her while my brother’s away.”Ah—Noah’s her aunt and caring for Rainey while her dad’s out of town. I’m the last to comment on weird family dynamics, as I live with my aunt and uncle, so I smile and nod.
Draining the last dregs of her coffee, Noah gets up to find a trash can before returning to our table. Without sitting back down, she says, “This was nice. I need to get home to take care of some stuff, but let me know about a playdate. Rainey will be stoked. Just give me a heads up to make sure my wit’s sharpened for next time.” She winks at me as she leaves.
The flirting I perceive from Noah stuns me, and I momentarily forget I promised her a ride home. I toss my cup as I rush out the door. Scanning the empty sidewalk in both directions from the corner cafe, I realize she’s gone.
Chapter 11
Noah
Ikickoffmysandals and peel off my sweatpants in the tiled foyer. Checking the weather would’ve prevented me from swimming home in my own sweat from the coffee shop. I had grand plans to wake up early and surprise Rainey with a special breakfast, but my alarm didn’t go off—even though I swear I triple-checked it last night. When I finally awoke, I had thirty minutes to get both of us out the door. Rainey’s not a morning person, so I had to battle to get her ready. Though it wasn’t the fun morning I planned, I made it work. Taking Izabeth’s advice to not worry about every single thing Rainey eats, I handed her a pop-tart, and she ate breakfast while we walked to school.
It’s been weeks since I’ve been home alone, and I stretch out on my couch to relax. Cartoons, made-up Barbie conversations, and the noises Rainey’s toys make have become the soundtrack of my life. Why are kids toys obscenely loud?
Noah: You were right.
