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I raise an eyebrow.
“Really? The coffee shop?” I question. “I graduatedsumma cum laudefrom the University of Illinois. I went to law school and kicked ass there. I can’t work in a coffee shop.”
My dad snorts.
“If your ego were any bigger, your head would explode, Ms. No-Job.”
“I’m being serious here,” I tell them.
“So are we. You have two options, Chrissy. Either move back to Arcola with Noah, or let Noah come live with us until you can find your footing again in LA.”
There’s a note of finality in his voice. Here’s the thing: I’m a daddy’s girl—the biggest daddy’s girl I know. If my dad tells me to do something, eighty percent of the time, I do it. I trust his judgment and he’s almost always right. But moving back to a town I swore never to return to? That’s a little extreme. How would I even cope? I’m used to the hustle and bustle of LA life. I don’t know if I can handle living in a small town.
Although, if I’m being honest, I’ve thought a lot about moving Noah away from here. LA’s not the best place to raise a kid. It’s expensive, and there’s a lot of pressure to meet societal expectations. It can be hard.
“I’ll call you in a few days after I’ve thought about it,” I say quietly.
“Excellent. I can’t wait to see Noah,” my mom says excitedly.
My eyes narrow.
“This is all just a plan to see your grandson more, isn’t it?”
“We can’t confirm nor deny that statement. Bye, baby,” my dad says before hanging up.
I shake my head as I start the car and begin the drive to my son’s school, even though it’s not time to pick him up yet. But I want a hug right now, and my son’s my only chance of getting one.
“Mama,” he yells, standing up from his desk and running into my arms.
I lift him into my arms and run my hands through his dark hair. I give his teacher an apologetic look. She had been in the middle of a class that I interrupted with my arrival.
“Noah, we talked about this. You need to ask for permission before getting up in class,” his teacher says with a frown.
“My mama’s here,” he states in confusion.
“Yes, I see that, but you should have raised your hand and asked if you could stand up.”
He blinks his hazel green eyes once.
“Why?”
I smile before turning to his teacher.
“I’m sorry, Miss Shaw, I shouldn’t have dropped by unannounced. It’s my fault,” I tell her.
She nods. “It’s alright, Ms. Lawson. He can gather his books and go.”
After getting all his stuff, I lead Noah to my red Prius. He waits until I’ve strapped him into his booster seat and started the car before pestering me with questions.
“What are you doing here, Mama? Why aren’t you at work? Is something wrong? Why did I have to leave school early—”
“Noah, breathe,” I interrupt softly.
He stops talking and takes a deep breath. I know he’s counting to five in his head. It’s something he does to help calm himself down when his brain goes into overdrive.
“Can I speak?” I question.
“Yes, Mama.”
