Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
“So, Noah is your…” I direct the question at Boyd and trail off, expecting him to fill in the blank. But he doesn’t. Noah beats him to it.
“He’s my dad,” he says, dropping pencils haphazardly into the bag.
“Noah,” Boyd says, and I can’t tell if his tone is a warning or a defeat.
“I don’t know what kind of lies he’s been telling you. But you seem like a nice lady to me, and you deserve to know the truth.” Noah sighs and looks me straight in the face. “I’m his love child.”
Um, what? He has a child? No way.
Boyd wraps his arm around Noah’s head and slaps his palm over his mouth to shut him up. “Knock it off, Noah. And how do you even know what a love child is?” He ruffles Noah’s hair with his other hand then releases him.
“I’m ten, not stupid,” Noah responds, scrunching his eyebrows and giving Boyd a look. “He’s my big,” Noah says, looking back to me.
“Your big?” I repeat and look at Boyd. “You’re a mentor?” I ask, guessing that Noah is referring to the Big Brothers, Big Sisters program. One of the kids in my class has a big and the teacher I student-taught under during college was also involved in the program. They match adult volunteers with children who have signed up looking for a role model. They commonly refer to the adults as bigs and the kids as littles, and the relationships can last a year or a lifetime. Usually it’s a few hours a month spent helping the little with homework or taking them to do something fun.
“Yeah.” Boyd nods. “And I got matched with this little punk,” he says affectionately.
“There was a line for me,” Noah responds. “You just got lucky.”
“Well, I’m glad I could help. And it was really nice meeting you, Noah.” I push my chair back and stand.
“Aren’t you coming with us to the ghost thing?” Noah glances at me, seeming surprised that I’m leaving, then turns to Boyd. “Boyd, can Chloe come with? I like her,” he pleads.
“Of course she can come,” Boyd responds. “Unless she’s afraid of ghosts. She might be too chicken.” He looks at me as he says it, like a challenge. And Noah jumps right in and squawks at me.
“Where is it that you’re going?” I laugh. “Ghost hunting?”
“It’s a ghost tour!” Noah bursts out in excitement. “We’re gonna see a bunch of haunted places.”
I bite my lip and look between them. It’s harmless, right? I mean, not the ghosts. Ghosts aren’t real. But hanging out with Boyd and Noah. It’s not a date. It’s just… hanging out. Nothing to panic about. I’m good at hanging out. And Noah is here, and I’m good with kids.
“Sure, I’ll go.”
And that’s how I end up spending most of the evening with Boyd. Again. And sleeping with him. Again. But it so wasn’t a date. Because when I start to think that there’s something happening between us I freak out. Second-guess myself. Wonder if he’s going to call again or if I’ve said something stupid. I start running conversations through my mind over and over again until my heart races and I start to envision ways that this could end badly. Ways that will end up with me being hurt. Or Boyd being hurt. What if I hurt him? I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want to hurt anyone.
Then I wonder if I’m crazy to even let my thoughts wander there in the first place. Boyd is freaking amazing. Hot. Wealthy. Incredible in bed. He volunteers with children, for crying out loud. He’s practically perfect in every way. Like Mary Poppins. If Mary Poppins was an attractive thirty-two-year-old man with magic sex skills and an interest in me.
He cannot be interested in me. In what I want. Which is not casual. What we’re doing right now—the sex and the hanging out—is fun. And I’m enjoying myself. Anyone would. But if we keep doing this I’m going to fall in love with him and then I’ll want more. Or I’ll freak out and need to breathe into a paper bag, hard to tell with me.
But what did he say about taking me to Vail instead of taking a real date? Something about real dates reading into things. Kinda like I’m doing right now.
Maybe there’s nothing to read into.
So I’m going to stop.
Besides, it wasn’t a date.
Twenty–One
Boyd
“Hey, Boyd! Good to see you. Come on in.” My sister beams at me from the doorway of her condo. Baby Christine is asleep in her arms. Or arm. Looks like Sophie’s already mastered the one-armed baby carry because she’s still got one hand on the door and the baby cradled in her opposite arm.
I step inside and we walk down to the kitchen where Sophie offers me coffee, then sets the baby in my arms while she makes it.