Page 65 of The Caretaker
“It sounds creepy when you say it like that.” He wrinkled his nose. “I just think the world needs more of you.”
In terms of the sweetest thing he’d ever said, that might have topped the list.
“So that’s the solution to world peace?” I asked. “More of me?”
“And don’t forget world hunger.”
“Because we’ll make mini-mes and feed them to the population,” I shot back, matching his seriousness.
“Fertilize the earth with the likes of you.”
“Cabbages will sprout with my face.”
“How about potatoes?” he added swiftly.
“And broccoli?” I asked without breaking my verbal stride.
“And radishes!” He licked his lips as if tasting them now.
“Why stop at food?”
“Because there’s nothing better than tasting you, that’s why,” he said, stumping me. His eyes danced as I fumbled for a quick response to keep our game of who-could-be-more-ridiculous going.
“I win!” he exclaimed while I sputtered. “Nope, I win.” He slapped a hand over my mouth and rolled us off the couch onto the floor, sprinkling kisses over my face as I laughed, surrendering to his barrage of affection.
The sound of an incoming text rang out, silencing us. “That’s your phone,” Noon said, shifting so I could get out from under him. He watched me from his spot on the floor, the fire crackling behind him.
“It’s Patrick,” I said, heart thundering. “He moved his flight up. He arrives tomorrow and wants to talk. What do you think that means? That he’s coming back early?” Granted, it was only by a week, but after all this time, why not finish out the remainder of the trip? Why go through the trouble of switching up your itinerary this late in the game? “It feels urgent.” Or maybe that was me projecting my own urgency to remain uninterrupted in my bubble with Noon. I felt conflicted. Patrick returning meant we could get the dissolution of our marriage underway, but I didn’t want anything interfering with what I now held dear: my relationship with Noon.
“I don’t know,” Noon snarled, getting to his feet, “but I’m coming with you.”
“I don’t think that’s the best idea.”
“I’ve spent the last three months watching you dig yourself out of the hole he put you in, and if he didn’t put you there, he damn sure never extended a hand to help you out of it.” He grasped the sides of my face, rage pulsing at his fingertips. “You’re lighter here. Happier. More confident. You’ve come outof your shell, and I’m terrified that a few minutes alone with him might change you… Might break you.”
“Nothing can break me, Noon. Not as long as I have you.” I trailed a finger from his widow’s peak to his jawline, the tension in it easing as I went. “I don’t think it’s wise to share what we have with them so soon.” I wanted to protect it for as long as possible. “Let’s meet with them to discuss officially ending things, to say our last words and ask our final questions. We’ll see where it goes from there.”
Seeing Patrick would be like cutting open an old wound. It needed to be done, though. We’d shared a child together and, at one time, we had loved one another. If we could disentangle ourselves from each other amicably, if we could wish each other well instead of having bad blood between us, that would be preferable. Especially since I now understood that the problem had never been me, it was always him.
“You’re right,” he said grudgingly. “If he tries to gaslight or manipulate you, if he so much as makes you think twice about your innocence in all this, I’m getting out of my truck—from where I’ll be parked down the street without you knowing—and I’m laying him the fuck out.”
“Noon.” I groaned, whacking his arm when he squished my cheeks together until my lips puckered.
“I’m kidding,” he said. “Kind of.” He received his own text then, and I clutched at his arms before loosening my grip and allowing him to check it.
“Is she flying in tomorrow too?” I asked, not even needing to confirm if it was her. The blanching of his skin had said it all.
“Yeah,” he answered. “And she wants to know if we can meet.”
“Did she say why?” I crossed my arms with the instinct to protect myself, digging my fingers into my sides.
“No, but I’m sure she wants to tell me the same thing Patrick wants to tell you. They want to end this, and so do we, so let’s not waste any time in getting it done. Okay?”
“Yeah. Of course. Okay.”
“I’m going to pick her up from the airport,” he said, typing a reply before sliding his phone onto the coffee table.
“Is that really necessary?”
