Page 42 of When Love Is Lost and Found

"I'm sorry," I say. "I got distracted."

"We're in the middle of a serious conversation," she says in a firm tone. "What on earth could be so distracting?"

"Your face."

"My face? Do I have something on it again?" When she starts wiping her cheek, I take her hand and gently pull it down.

"There's nothing on your face except beauty."

"Stop it, Jon. I'm being serious."

"So am I. Your beauty distracts me, and when you blush like you're doing right now, all I want to do is—."

"Jon Linder, are you trying to flirt with me?" The look on her face tells me she's asking in earnest.

"No, of course not," the guilty-as-charged tone in my voice betrays me.

"I thought you said you view me as a child."

"I never said that," I say defensively. "You're not a child, and you know that's not what I meant."

Our eyes are locked on each other as the seconds tick by.

"Hey, you two!" Mom exclaims from the front seat. "We can hear you up here."

When Sharon's face blushes again, I can't help but chuckle.

"And for the record, Son," Dad says, "you're definitely flirting."

Now I'm the one blushing, and when Sharon starts laughing, I shake my head and laugh, too.

"Thanks, Dad," I say, thinking about how much I love her laugh.

Chapter 9

Sharon

Once in Manhattan, we stop for lunch before checking in at the hotel.

"I want to sleep in Jon's room," Noah announces before biting into a slice of cheese pizza.

"You can stay with me, Buddy," Jon says.

Watching him interact with Noah reminds me of my dad and what a wonderful father he was. Jon is so good with Noah. In the six months I babysat him before the move, Jon never missed a single phone call to wish his little brother a good night.

I watch as Jon takes a napkin and wipes pizza sauce off Noah's face. He's going to be a great dad someday. He's patient, kind and loving.

I realize I'm staring and look away only to find Mrs. Linder staring at me staring at Jon. I smile, feeling my cheeks blush with embarrassment.

***

After checking in at the hotel, we head down the hall to the elevators.

"Noah," says Jon, "push numbers five and seven."

Noah looks up at Jon and then at me before counting the buttons next to the elevator one by one until his finger lands on numbers five and seven. He pushes both buttons and then grins with pride.

"Good job, Noah!" We all exclaim in unison.

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