Page 71 of Cluelessly Yours

Me: I take it she’s interrogating you, too?

Sammy: Yep. Her spidey senses have been activated. And I’m sorry for what’s about to happen. Maybe you should consider grabbing Dolly and leaving the park?

At first, I’m confused by her text, but then, not even a minute later, Brooke’s voice fills my ears. “Freaking finally!” she shouts at the top of her lungs, even fist-pumping the air as she stares down at her phone.

Safe to say, the news of Noah Philips and Sammy Baker has just been made official.

Fuck yes.

Sunday, May 22nd

At a little after nine in the morning, I head out of my apartment with Dolly happily walking beside me on her leash. With no work today and no emergency call-ins from work last night, I actually managed to sleep a solid eight hours.

The prancy pep in Dolly’s step says she was thankful for the quiet night too.

The ride down our elevator is swift, and we’re out on the sidewalk, with the rest of the Sunday morning crowd, in no time at all. New York in the spring is one of my favorite times of year, and this morning’s sunny skies and warm breeze don’t disappoint.

I stop by the food truck that’s parked half a block from my building and grab a coffee for me and a few slices of bacon for Dolly before heading into the park.

Once Dolly’s done her business, I plant us at a bench that’s off the beaten path. She’s already drooling for her bacon, and I smile down at her in amusement when I toss her a bite.

In true Dolly fashion, one bite isn’t enough, and I end up feeding her all the bacon before I manage a sip of my coffee. She’s persistent when it comes to food, that’s for sure, but once she’s certain all the meat is gone, she stretches out near my feet and busies herself with observing the crowd while her snout rests between her paws.

I lift my to-go cup to get some much-needed caffeine, but the first sip is interrupted by an incoming text.

Sammy: I have bad news. Seth woke up puking. :( I hate to cancel on the game today, but there’s no way we can go now. Ugh. I’m so sorry, Noah. The kids are devastated.

Shit.Disappointment sits heavy in my stomach, but clearly, I understand. Kids get sick sometimes.

Me: No need to apologize, Sam. I’m sorry Seth is sick. Poor guy. Are you and Grant feeling okay?

Sammy: For now, we’re both good, but I’m pretty sure we all need to quarantine inside the apartment and keep our germs to ourselves.

Me: Is there anything I can do to help?

Sammy. No, but I definitely appreciate the offer. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go clean up Seth’s round three of puking while I field Grant’s whines about the fact that we have to miss the game.

I almost send her another message, telling her to text or call me if she needs anything, but I know she’s way too busy to be on her phone.

Though, it doesn’t stop me from wishing I could be the man by her side, helping her right now, rather than the man sitting on this fucking park bench, who isn’t doing anything at all.

But what the hell? Maybe Icanbe.

Sammy’s face is full of shock as she answers the door in a white T-shirt and a pair of flannel pajama shorts and finds me standing on the other side. She looks stressed and flushed and unfuckingbelievably beautiful.

“Noah? What are you doing here?”

After running around all morning and most of the afternoon, I decided it wastime to implement Operation “Be the Man by Sammy’s Side,” starting with an unannounced, six o’clock visit to bring her and the boys some sustenance.

I lift the bag of soup and bread I grabbed from a market near her building and hold it there. “I figured you wouldn’t be thinking about feeding yourself, and selfishly…I wanted to see you. Is it okay that I’m here?”

“Of course it is.” Sammy’s laugh is half incredulity, half humor. “But are you sure youwantto be here? Seth’s doing a little better, but this bug must be derived from some Stephen King-type of stuff. It’s been horrifying.”

“I work in a hospital, Sam. Whatever you’ve seen, I’ve had my hands in it before.” As she takes the bag of food and welcomes me in, I make sure to distinguish on a chuckle, “I’ve washed them since, though, I assure you.”

“I’ve also washed my hands today.A lot, in fact.” Sammy smiles, but it quickly turns into a frown. “God, I’m so sorry about canceling on the game. And trust me, the boys weren’t happy we had to cancel either. Grant’s been mopey all day, and Seth found time to gripe about it in between his rounds of puke and rally.”

“We’ll find another day to go,” I counter as I follow her into the kitchen. “I can easily get tickets for another game so the boys can get their Yankees fill and Seth can make use of that poster he worked so hard on.”

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