The last week had been hell, and it didn’t seem to be letting up. And yet, last night at Jag and Callie's, she'd watched something in Noah loosen in a way she hadn't seen in years. While he’d always been relatively relaxed around her family, he always kept a slight distance between him and them.
Last night, it was as if he’d welcomed them into his world, and he’d accepted the invitation into theirs.
Noah had sat on the floor with the kids. Rolled around with them like he was the only one in the room. He’d fed Cooper a bottle, something she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him do. He’d read to Stephanie, Steve, Holden, and Skye—all at once and managed their questions while they climbed on him like he was their newest plaything.
He'd also been different toward her this past week. Every other time his father had cast a shadow over things, Noah's instinct had been to pull away from her. To retreat and spend time alone.
She'd watched him do it enough times to recognize the pattern. This week, he hadn't done that. Instead, he'd reached for her. She was still getting used to being the person he pulled in, instead of the person he pushed away.
Noah stirred. Stretching, he reached slowly toward the headboard and blinked open his eyes before groaning at the ceiling. “What time is it?”
“A little before nine,” she said.
Another groan as he rubbed his temples. “Not sure I’ve slept that late since I was a kid.”
“How bad’s the hangover?” she asked.
"Mild." He turned, fluffed his pillow, and winced. "Maybe medium." He closed his eyes again. "Possibly significant."
She laughed, crossed to the bed, sat on the edge and handed him the mug. “Black. Strong. Maybe a little stronger than normal, but you need it.”
“Any possibility there’s a little something extra? You know, like the hair of the dog?”
“Not a chance.”
He took the mug with both hands and drank like it was the only thing standing between him and whatever fresh hell was happening in his head.
"That's what happens when you mix the wine at dinner with the tequila on the patio," she said. “And try to keep up with a fly boy who still thinks he’s twenty.”
“That man has a stomach made of steel,” Noah said. “But the tequila shots were Jag's idea."
“Callie texted and told me Jag got up and went for a run at seven.”
"Jag's a machine." He took another sip of coffee and set the mug on the nightstand. “But it doesn’t mean he’s not hungover.”
“That’s true. He’s probably slightly dying. If I know my brother, he didn’t run. He went to the diner for greasy hangover food.”
“Oh, god. That sounds delicious.”
“I’ll make you an egg sandwich in a bit.”
“You don’t have to do that. I’ll get up shortly, shower, and make it myself. It’s not that bad.” He reached out and traced her lower lip with his thumb. "I haven't laughed that hard in a long time."
"You were laughing at my expense."
"I was laughing at Stephanie." He propped himself up against the headboard. "I'm sorry, but the fact that she’s decided I'm too old for her, and she was willing to give me her blessing todate you was just hilarious. And she was so serious about it all.” Noah lowered his chin. “Noah, I’ve decided,” he said in a sweet, soft voice. “And I know this might be difficult for you, but I can’t be your girlfriend. You’re better suited for Auntie Ziggy. I’m fine that you date her.” He smacked his palm to his forehead and then groaned. “She’s only four. Just a baby.”
“Don’t tell her that.”
“Yeah, but where did she learn to talk like that?”
“Oh, I’m sure she had a little help from her parents,” Ziggy said. “At least, about us, so she didn’t burst into tears if she saw us holding hands, hugging, or kissing.”
“Skye thinks you’re gonna have a baby because you kissed me.”
Ziggy’s heart pitched, and her stomach rolled. That wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have. “Skye thinks everyone’s having a baby.”
“That’s true.” Noah reached for his mug and took another long pull. “I can’t believe how many times your dad tried to get someone with the last name Bowie to name their kid David. It’s crazy. What that poor kid would suffer through life with.”