Page 102 of Beauty
With a smile, I nod. “Consider it forgotten.” Then to Ollie, I add, “This is probably a good time to find our seats.” I rest a hand on his shoulder. “Tell your dad good luck.”
Noah, attention still fixed on me, licks his lips. “Yeah, thanks for bringing him down.” Finally, he looks away, his expression going soft. “Be good,” he reminds his son.
Ollie shakes his head. “Guy worries too much.”
We’re just exiting the visitor’s bench when Ezra appears, coming the other way. He’s dressed in another bespoke suit, and with the phone he’s holding to his ear, I pray he’s too distracted to notice me.
But as he looks from me to Ollie and back again, a bright calculation in his eyes, my hope vanishes.
“Nannying now?” He quirks a brow.
The urge to kick him in the shin with the pointy toe of my boot is strong.
Instead, I plaster on a smile, keeping it light for Ollie’s sake, if not mine. “Just hanging with my friend Ollie while we cheer on our boys.”
With a shrug and a dismissive nod to the little boy, he strides away.
“Jerk.”
Gasping, I peer down at my pint-size buddy. He looks back at me without an ounce of remorse in his expression.
I suppose I can’t chastise him. If I’d been the one calling him names, I would have chosen one much more offensive.
“Yeah, he really is.” I shake my head and temper my frustration with Ezra. “Do you like Boston?” I ask, eager for a change in subject. “Where did you live before?”
“Minnesota. I don’t really remember it, though. We moved to Boston when I was four. I’m six now,” he says with a proud grin.
Right. Almost two years ago. And it’s been well over a year since Brooks and Sara’s wedding, when Noah realized who I was.
I survey the ice over my shoulder, cataloging the players. The group of them is close. As Noah skates over to Brooks and the two of them eye Aiden and laugh, then go back to chatting, I see his confession in a new light.
If he’d approached me that night, he would have risked destroying the lifelong friendship he and Brooks share. And maybe his spot on the team in Boston, where his child lives. And for what? The slight chance of rekindling a connection with a woman he hadn’t seen in more than four years? A woman he’d only spent days with?
My chest tightens, making it hard to breathe, but I force the cold air into my lungs, then let it out slowly and look down at Ollie. “Do you like Boston?”
He lifts his shoulders and lets them fall. “Sure.”
“And when your dad is traveling, you live with your mom?”
Maybe I’m prying, but I’m genuinely interested in getting to know this boy. He’s smart and funny and so damn clever.
“And my baby sister and Ted. He’s failing at life, but he’s a good guy.”
I shouldn’t be shocked by his candor anymore, yet a surprised laugh bursts out of me. “What?”
He rolls his eyes. “The guy can’t even walk in a straight line. He trips over everything. I think it’s because he’s so distracted by how pretty my mom is.”
I smile warmly at him. “That’s adorable.”
He scrutinizes me with a shrewdness no six-year-old should possess. “Kind of like how my dad was with you yesterday.”
Cheeks heating, I shake my head. “Oh, your dad and I?—”
“I know. He told me you’re just friends.” He sighs. “I’ve got lots of friends who are girls. But only one that makes my heart gothump-thump-thump.” He pounds his chest in time with his words. “Has that ever happened to you?”
This child is so transparent, so frank, that it feels wrong to lie. “Yes. Just once.”
He sighs, his body deflating. “I don’t think I like it. I get all tongue-tied, and I’m never tongue-tied.”
