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She and Matt made quite the mischievous team as teens. They were always wreaking havoc back then with juvenile pranks.
“I never did anything to Aunt Mel,” Christine protests. “I’m sure it has something to do with you and Matt. It can’t be about Noah because she hated me long before that. I just wish I knew why.”
I actually have an idea as to the reason for Mel’s actions. I just don’t want to voice them because I really think she’s overreacting.
We finally arrive at Noah’s room, where there are two huge bodyguards stationed in front of the door, watching over him. Christine raises an eyebrow at the sight of them.
“It’s for protection. There are a lot of strangers in the house right now, and we can’t be too safe,” I explain.
She nods. “I suppose you’re right. I just hope Noah isn’t feeling too overwhelmed.”
As it turns out, she’s worried for nothing. Upon our entry into the room, we find our son flying a toy airplane all over. He looks adorable in a black tux.
“I’m surprised they got him to wear a bowtie,” Christine says, smiling at the sight of him.
He smiles once he sees us, but that’s pretty much all the acknowledgment we get before he drops the airplane and starts playing on a skateboard.
A fucking skateboard!
Christine’s going to kill me. I told my mom not to go overboard when she said she was getting him toys. This is beyond overboard. This entire room is covered with toys and gadgets Christine will say he certainly doesn’t need. That, combined with Noah’s ADHD, and we have a hyperactive kid that we’re never getting out of this room.
She gives me a look and I raise my hands in surrender.
“This isn’t my fault,” I say slowly.
“Oh, really? You were supposed to keep Sam under control,” she groans.
“She did all this when I came over to pick you up.”
“She bought him a skateboard. What if he gets hurt?”
“I’m pretty sure Darla wouldn’t let anything happen to him,” I tell her, pointing at the silent nanny in the corner of the room.
Christine turns to look at her. “I’m so sorry, Darla. I hope he’s not been too much of a bother.”
“He’s been a perfect angel,” Darla assures her. “Although I haven’t been able to get him to stay still.”
Christine lets out a nervous laugh before looking at me. “Please get rid of some of this stuff.”
“You really want to do that?” I ask her.
She gives me a look that tells me she’s not playing.
“Noah, sweetie,” she calls. “Let’s go check out your daddy’s room.”
He looks at her and frowns. “No. I want to try out the skates Nana got me.”
A vein pulses in his mother’s jaw. I shouldn’t be smiling right now, but this is a really amusing situation.
“You can play with them later. I’m sure your dad has a lot of exciting things in his room,” she prompts.
I give her a look. “I do not,” I mouth.
She shrugs while Noah stares at all his toys, contemplating listening to his mom.
“I have a really tall bookcase with lots of books in my room,” I tell him.
His hazel green eyes light up. “Books?” he asks, letting the skates drop to the ground.
