Page 35 of Aria

Noah returned Sam to his feet. “Who said anything about presents? I haven’t seen any presents.”

Sam’s eyes grew wide and fearful. “But it’s my birfday!”

“Oh, right.” Noah pressed his index finger to his chin. “I guess there are presents, then. But not until later. Why don’t you go find your friends and show them the fort you made downstairs?”

Sam ran off as my gaze settled on Noah. I was surprised to see him in something other than his signature t-shirt and ripped jeans. He was wearing a crisp white button-down and khaki pants. The stubble along his jawline had grown out over the last week, and the tattoo on his arm was even more striking against his snowy, rolled-up sleeves. Most noticeably, his green eyes held an extra sparkle in them today.

Devon and I made our way through the living room, dodging a sea of children chasing each other with plastic spoons.

“Hey!” Noah snatched the make-believe weapons away and ushered the kids back into the kitchen. “The spoons are for ice cream, not mayhem.”

Giggles poured out of me at the sight of Noah playing an authoritative figure. “You’ve really nailed the Stern Dad Voice,” I joked.

Noah grinned. “Yeah, well, Sam has given me exceptional practice.”

I jumped when I felt a tugging at my sundress, glancing down to see two large green eyes beaming up at me—eyes that looked remarkably like his father’s.

“Will you color with me?”

I brightened at the request. Sam’s chocolate curls were stuck to his forehead, so I swiped them back, nodding, “I would love to. I thought you’d never ask.”

“Here, I’ll show you to the playroom,” Noah offered.

I gave Devon’s hand a friendly squeeze as we stepped away. “Your house is really nice,” I observed, making conversation while we headed up the stairs. I eyed the picture frames along the walls leading up to the second floor. A black-and-white photo of Noah and a mystery woman holding Sam as a newborn caught my eye. It was the only photo the woman was featured in.

“Thanks. My decorator did most of the work. I know that sounds pretentious, but I don’t really have time for interior design with my schedule.” When we reached the top of the staircase, Noah pointed to a room on the left.

Gasping, I couldn’t help but marvel at Sam’s playroom. The walls were a spectacular shade of tangerine. A huge elephant-shaped clock hung on the far wall, surrounded by canvases of animal paintings and a large portrait of Sam. The room was filled to the brim with toys. It was every child’s dream playroom.

Sam clapped and danced around the room. “Here’s my coloring table!” He pointed to a miniature table with two wooden chairs. “Do you love it?”

I shared an affectionate smile with Noah. “I do love it,” I replied. “I bet you spend a lot of time in here.”

“Yep.” Sam pulled out a giant stack of construction paper and Crayola markers. “Now you can play with me, too. I like having friends over.”

My mind raced, wondering if Sam’s “friends” were primarily adults. He seemed to distance himself from the other children at the party.

“Daddy, will you and my new friend draw pictures with me?” He held up a crumpled piece of purple paper, his eyes wide and innocent.

“Your new friend is Miss Chelsie,” Noah reminded. He sat down on the colorful rug and glanced my way.

I joined him, taking a seat beside him until our knees touched, sending a curious tingle up my spine. Frowning, I inched away.

Sam sat down at his coloring table which was much too small for the adults. “Miss Chelsie is really pretty, Daddy. I like her.”

My cheeks heated as I ducked my head, refusing to make eye contact with the man beside me. I already knew there was a smirk dancing across his face.

“You’re right, Sammy. She’s very pretty. Your Uncle Devon is a lucky man.”

“Oh… thank you,” I managed to squeak out. The blush was climbing my neck, so I raised a hand to hide it.

“Why, Daddy?”

“Because Chelsie is your uncle’s girlfriend,” Noah explained.

“Are they married?” Sam inquired.

“No, Sam. They’re dating.”

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