Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
God, no wonder all of New York is chasing after Dr. Noah Philips.
That thought has the power to paralyze me in place, but I’m saved by the bell—or Noah’s ringing cell—before I can put on scuba gear and take a deep dive into things I really don’t want to be thinking about right now. Or ever.
“Sorry.” Noah grimaces and holds up one finger as he pulls his cell out of his scrub pocket. “Dr. Philips… Yeah… You can give her 0.25 milligrams of Ativan… Okay…” He glances at his watch. “I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.” He ends the call with a swift tap of his index finger on the screen and meets my eyes again.
“Looks like duty calls, huh?” I ask and he nods.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“You gotta go, Noah?” Grant asks, and Noah squats down to meet him at eye level.
“Yep. I have to get back to work,” he tells him with a soft smile. “But I’m really happy that you’re going to be taking care of Sal. I don’t think he wanted to spend the next three hours in surgery with me.”
“Don’t worry,” Grant replies with a determined nod of his little head, his arms squeezing the stuffed sloth even tighter. “Sal can hang out with me and Mom. I’m gonna take good care of him.”
“See? This is why I knew Sal belonged with you,” Noah comments and tugs at the foot of the stuffed sloth. “But you have to promise me one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“You both need to promise to listen to your mom.” Noah flashes a secret smile in my direction. “Can you do that for me?”
“I promise. We’ll be good.” Not even a second later, Grant steps forward and hugs Noah tightly.
The visual of my son’s two small arms wrapping around Noah’s broad shoulders with a stuffed animal hanging behind Noah’s back makes a twinge of discomfort ping inside my heart.
Todd is the biggest of fucking pricks on the planet Earth, and I finally, unequivocally, feel like I can say that I hate him. I hate that his selfishness has left our boys starved for this kind of affection for so long. I hate that he’s left me alone and confused to navigate all of this myself. And most of all, I hate that I allowed myself to think that I shouldn’t hate him.
“Bye, Noah!” Grant exclaims as Noah stands up straight, his small feet already moving toward the elevator. “C’mon, Mom! Me and Sal gotta see the doctor!”
“Looks like you better go too,” Noah comments with an amused grin.
“It certainly looks that way,” I answer, but then, I can’t stop myself from reaching out and lightly gripping his forearm. “Thank you.” My gaze is steady as I lock my eyes with his. “For everything. You’ve been so kind to me and my boys. I honestly don’t know if I’ll ever be able to repay you.”
“No repayment necessary, Sammy.” He surprises me by pulling me in for a quick hug. “I do it because I want to do it. I adore your kids… And you.”
“Mom! C’mon!” Grant’s voice fills my ears. “The elevator is coming!”
“Let me know how Grant’s appointment goes, okay?”
All I can do is nod.
“Mom! It’s here!”
With a small smile and wave, Noah turns and heads for the exit doors, and I force my feet to move in the opposite direction to where Grant is about to step onto an awaiting elevator.
“Grant, wait for me!” I pick up the pace, jogging to catch up with him, but my determined child just jumps into the elevator without a second thought. Thankfully, I manage to step onto the cart with a few seconds to spare.
The elevator doors slide shut, and I catch one last glimpse of Noah’s strong, retreating back.
“Man! You almost didn’t make it!” Grant shouts as he lifts his new sloth friend to dance along the metal railing at the back of the elevator.
“Next time, buddy, do not get on an elevator by yourself, okay?”
“Why not?”
“Well, what if the doors closed before I got on? What would you have done?”
“Dunno.” He shrugs. “Prolly just pushed all the buttons, I guess.”
“Exactly my point.” My laugh is exasperated. “Always wait for me. No matter what, okay?”
“Okay, Mom.” He steps forward toward the buttons. “What number do I push?”
“Number four.”
Grant smashes his index finger into the correct number, and the elevator starts its ascent.
“Mom?”
“Yeah, buddy?”
“Noah’s so cool,” he says. “You think we can invite him over for a sleepover or somethin’?”
The mere idea of inviting New York’s number one bachelor, Dr. Noah Philips, over to my apartment for a sleepover makes me choke on my own saliva.
“You okay, Mom?” Grant asks as several coughs consume my lungs.
“Yeah,” I wheeze with a hand to my chest. “I’m fine. Just a little tickle in my throat.”
“Oh.” He stares at me. “Is it gone?”