Page 7 of Boss Daddy
Tilly
Noah’s place is on the other side of town and about a thousand times nicer than mine could ever be. He has actual security doors that you need an electronic code to get through, and an elevator that requires a key before it’ll take you to your floor. Swanky.
“Here we are,” he says, opening the front door and standing aside to let me in. To my eyes, it’s luxury. An open plan living room with a big kitchen and stainless steel appliances, hardwood floors, and a great big fish tank that takes up most of one wall. His furniture is a mix of dark wood and leather. There’s a giant oriental rug in front of the couch, and he has bookcases stuffed full of actual books and keepsakes. It feels warm and inviting, and I step inside, wrapping my arms around myself in a hug.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, taking in the small personal touches that give me clues as to what he likes—travel, reading, cooking,family.There’s a framed collage on the wall closest to the dining table. “Is this your family?”
He nods as I walk toward it, inspecting the images of two boys growing up. Noah’s there too, and besides his hair being darker in some of the photos, he doesn’t seem to have changed much at all. There’s also a woman in earlier photos. She’s thin and tall and has hair black as night.
“Was this your wife?”
“Elijah’s been running his mouth off, it seems,” Noah says, stepping closer.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any disrespect, and I’m sure he didn’t either. He was just setting me straight over that whole daddy thing he does. I felt very naïve after he explained what it was. I didn’t realize that was a thing.”
“Calling a man daddy when he’s not your father?”
“Yeah.” My cheeks heat and I wish I could stop myself from speaking so much, but I’m nervous around him. “And that there’s...other stuff involved too. Sex stuff.” I whisper the last two words, and I note the spark of amusement in Noah’s eyes.
“Well, as you can see, I’ve got two children of my own. This is Jayden. And this is Dermot.”
“They’re in college?”
“They are. Jayden is at USC, and Dermot is at Dartmouth.”
“Wow. Smart boys.”
“That’s all their mother. Katerina was an incredibly intelligent woman who was taken from her family too soon.”
“How did she die?” The question pops out before I can stop it. “I mean, if you don’t mind my asking.”
“Overdose. She was also a...troubled woman.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, empathy filling my bones. I know firsthand how hard it is to love someone who doesn’t love themselves.
“It was a long time ago,” he says, taking a deep breath before he turns away. “Your room is over here.”
I follow to where he indicates, finding a guest bedroom with a queen bed inside. “Is this one of the rooms your boys stay in when they visit?”
“This is the guest room. Their rooms are down the hall near mine. Not that they use them often. They only visit for a few days here and there. They’ve got their own lives now.”
“Must be lonely,” I say, leaning against the doorframe. “All those years focusing on your kids, then poof, they’re grown.”
Something akin to melancholy flits across his features. It lasts only a moment, but it’s there. Without thinking, I walk straight over to him and wrap my arms around his waist, burying my face against his chest and hugging him tightly. It takes a moment for him to respond, but when he does, his arms go around my body, making me feel safe and warm as he holds me equally as tight.
We stand like that in silence. Two people in need of comfort just taking and giving from the other. Then just like in the bar, he seems to come to his senses and quickly releases me, like hugging another adult is something we’re doing wrong. “I should get you something to sleep in,” he says, backing away before disappearing down the hall to, I assume, his room. I have a strong desire to follow him in there to see what his bedroom looks like. Is it warm and cozy like the rest of the house, or is it completely different? I want to know him.
“Thank you,” I say when he returns, handing me a white t-shirt that is soft beneath my fingers and will probably feel even better against my skin.
He nods. “I’ll let you get some sleep,” he says gruffly, running his hand through his hair as he puts distance between us.
“Sure. And Noah,” I say before he’s completely out the door. “You didn’t have to come to my rescue tonight, but I’m grateful you did.”
“Any man would have done the same.”
“You’re wrong. Most men wouldn’t do any of this. You’re quite literally the first man in my life who’s given a damn.”
He looks at me for a long moment, studying me like he has questions he dare not ask. Then he backs away again. “Good night, Tilly.”
“Good night, Noah,” I say on a gasp as he quickly closes the door, leaving me alone with a T-shirt that smells just like him.
