Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 16707 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 84(@200wpm)___ 67(@250wpm)___ 56(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16707 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 84(@200wpm)___ 67(@250wpm)___ 56(@300wpm)
The woman hisses and stomps her foot. “Fuck you, Adrian. You’ve always acted high and mighty. Someday, Tomtom will see that. He’ll see what he lacks. Someday, he’s going to ask for his mom.”
At this, Adrian’s voice softens. “I know, and Noelle will be there for him.”
My heart stops. Tears spring to my eyes at the conviction in Adrian’s voice. I already knew I wanted to be there as Thomas grew up and became a good man just like his father. I wanted to help raise him and be everything he needed. I didn’t want him to feel as though something was missing from his life, as though he felt incomplete.
I already love Thomas as though he’s my own.
Side by side with the love is the anger toward the woman who birthed him. How can anyone, most of all his own mother, not care about that sweet, adorable, smart, and funny little boy? How can she walk away from him and not bother knowing him?
She has missed out on so many things, like him learning all the names of the dinosaurs in every period, him talking animatedly about the stages of life of a butterfly, him learning to ride a bike.
“Who the hell is Noelle?” she demands.
The anger rises to the surface, and I straighten, stepping into view. No more hiding. It may not be my place to talk to her like this, but I just can’t stand by and watch Adrian fight this battle alone. He has to know I’m here for him and with him. We’ll fight these battles together.
I lock eyes with her, and my first thought is, ‘She’s beautiful but empty.’ Yes, she must be turning heads everywhere she goes, and perhaps she likes the attention. But there’s nothing beneath that. No light in her eyes. I believe, based on my experience talking to different parents, that this woman has never known genuine happiness. I’ll bet my life on it.
Besides, I can see it in the way she assesses me with her gaze—the haughty lift of her chin as if she already finds me unworthy and beneath her, the sarcastic tilt of her mouth as though she’s saying, ‘Is this her?’
Usually, I’d squirm under such scrutiny. But not today, and not from her.
Finally, I can put a face to the woman whom I’ve only known by reputation. Adrian didn’t talk badly about her despite everything, but it doesn’t matter. I see her for who and what she is.
Another thought pushes itself to the forefront of my mind. I will never ever let her hurt Thomas and Adrian. Over my dead body.
“I’m Noelle,” I tell her, accepting Adrian’s outstretched hand.
She turns her gaze from Adrian to me and to our interlocked fingers. “Why the hell are you with him?”
I squeeze Adrian’s hand, look up at him, and smile. This man I’ve been crushing on way before they met. “The question is, why aren’t you?”
“Dad! I’m home.” Thomas’s small, quick footsteps patter in the driveway, and Adrian stands rigid, his whole body tensed like a coiled spring. He jogs toward us, hair messy from running around next door and playing with the other kids, sneakers kicking up little puffs of dust. His bright eyes dart between us, then land on the woman. He slows and scratches his cheek.
I stop breathing, curbing the urge to run to him, wrap my arms around him, and protect him from her. She is so not welcome here. I don’t even have to ask Adrian to know we’re in complete agreement.
Thomas stops a few paces behind her. “Who’s that?”
His voice is light, innocent. But the weight in the air is anything but. That simple question sucks the oxygen from the space between us.
The woman—I refuse to say her name or call her anything else—smiles wickedly and turns to face Thomas. Adrian takes that as a cue to rush to his side and hold his small hand.
“Hi, baby.” Her cloyingly sweet voice grates on my nerves, but I force myself to stay where I am. Adrian’s with Thomas. He won’t let her touch him. “I’m your mom.”
I can’t help the gasp bursting out of me. I’m rooted to the spot, a hand on my chest, a heavy weight in my belly, waiting for Thomas’s reaction. The boy hasn’t done anything, and yet, she’s using him to get to his father and manipulate him. All for money.
The air is thick with tension as his little fingers twitch at his sides. Uncertainty flashes in his gaze as he shifts his focus from her to me.
She crouches and motions with her hand. “Come on, baby. Give your mother a hug.”
My heart clenches, a tear sliding down my cheek. This can’t be happening. One minute, she’s demanding money and threatening to go to court. The next, she’s pretending to care for him.