Page 22 of Love is a Harmony
And her friend. Pushing thoughts of Justin to the back of her mind, she sat beside him and bumped his shoulder with hers. “I don’t know how to help you, Noah.”
His voice rumbled out of him. “Imagine that. Melanie Snyder doesn’t know something.” He stood, schooling his features as if he hadn’t just broken down. His signature smirk hung on his lips. “I found a frozen pizza in the freezer. I’ll make us some food.” He stopped with his back still toward her. “I’m going to figure this out, Mel. I don’t expect your help, but I just had to say it. Stella will have a home with me.”
He left those words hanging in the air as he stepped into the kitchen. Melanie leaned back into the couch, pulling her legs up underneath her. A sigh rattled through her chest.
Nothing about working for Noah had ever been easy, but this… this took the cake.
7
Noah
Noah was up early the next morning. He peeked in at Melanie, watching her chest rise and fall. She looked so peaceful lying there, so unlike the uptight publicist he loved to rile up. Her face relaxed in sleep, and he found himself missing her scowl. She’d hidden it from him the day before, instead peppering him with sad smiles that were so unlike her.
He wanted his Melanie back.
Well, the world’s Melanie, not his.
He could do without the pantsuits and pencil skirts though. She’d looked so calm, so cozy in joggers with wet hair and a face clear of any makeup.
He turned away from her door and stepped outside into the bright sun. It was unseasonably warm for November, and he needed to get out of that house, not just now, but for the day.
He jogged over to the Martin house, crossing the fields spanning the distance before knocking on the front door. The teenage boy Noah met before answered, his face wary.
“Bonjour.” He cocked his head to the side, surveying Noah before he spoke in rapid French.
Noah only caught a few words here and there, his eyes going wider with each passing sentence until the boy cracked a smile.
“Kidding.” He flashed a grin. “Our school makes us learn English.”
Noah rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t get your name the day before.”
“Pierre. You come in?”
“Is your dad home, Pierre?”
“Oui.” He turned to look back into the house. “Papa!”
Mathieu appeared from the kitchen, wiping his hands on an apron around his waist. “Ah, Noah. I’m cooking. Are you staying for breakfast?”
Noah shook his head. “I was hoping we could talk for a moment.”
“Pierre.” He continued speaking in French, mentioning something about crepes, and Noah caught the word for eggs.
Pierre nodded and left. Mathieu stepped out onto the porch and gestured for Noah to sit.
Noah lowered himself onto the porch swing, but the other man remained standing, his arms crossed over his chest.
“I think…” Noah cleared his throat. “Stella and I need to spend some time together.”
“I agree.”
Noah didn’t know what he’d expected him to say. Did this man know Noah had never spent alone time with a kid in his life? Did he know not even Noah trusted himself not to break the girl? What if she got hurt or cried? Oh gosh, what if she cried? How could he handle little girl tears?
Noah couldn’t imagine what fears flashed across his face before Mathieu softened his stance and stepped forward to put a hand on Noah’s shoulder. “Little girls are resilient, mon ami. Do not be afraid of her. Take her somewhere away from her papa’s house. Maybe the beach. You can borrow my car.”
Noah lifted his eyes to Mathieu’s. “Why are you helping me? I thought you wanted her to stay here.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I only want her to be cared for. If you prove to be what she needs, then I am happy.” He stepped back. “Wait here. I’ll be back.”
