Page 32 of Nothing Left To Lose But You

I flash her a ‘we’ll see what happens‘look before joining her on the opposite side of the couch.

Paul kindly gave me his old couch and the matching chairs sitting in his basement. He’d overheard me talking to Claire that it may be a bit before I could afford living room furniture, and he’d recently replaced his old set. I swallowed my bitter pride and accepted Paul’s castoffs. The night of our move, the guys delivered a pickup truck full ofloanerfurniture. They informed me I could return the items when they’re no longer needed, or, even better, pass them along to someone else in need.

A small gift bag sat in Noah’s lap. “Another surprise for me?” I joke.

“No sir, it’s for Maggie.”

Noah hands me the bag and explains there are some cute pajamas inside. Before I can finish thanking her for Maggie’s welcome home gift, she interrupts and explains these are a ‘thank you’ gift. My heart puddles when Noah recounts Rainey’s first day of school and Maggie’s kindness—I’d been unaware.

Our heartfelt conversation halts as Rainey chases Hope out of Maggie’s bedroom and into the kitchen. A blur of black hair known as Maggie whips around the corner in pursuit.

“I guess now’s a good time to cook lunch?” I chuckle.

The girls dash by the couch, screeching as they fly back through Maggie’s bedroom door and dissolve into a fit of giggles.

“God, I wish I had their energy,” Noah comments and follows me to the kitchen.

She stands at the kitchen island while I cook, and we chat about my job search. Cincinnati has quite a few openings I find interesting, and I’m slowly getting through the applications for them all.

“Have you heard anything back?”

I cross my arms and look away. “It’s early. I’m talking to one HR department about scheduling an interview for Monday. We’ll see.”

I check on the boiling spaghetti noodles before spinning around to continue our conversation. My lack of attention gave Noah the opportunity to eye my place over. She straightens herself, and her captivating eyes lock with mine. My kitchen island is on the small side, and she’s less than a foot away as I prepare the frozen garlic toast to meet its maker in the oven.

“What?” I question as she continues to stare.

“This close, I can see how dark your eyes are. They’re sooty. Your pupil and iris run together.”

Her memorizing my eyes is a pleasing thought that blurs the line of friendship. I smirk at her and change the subject.

“How was your first week back at work?”

“Good. Felt nice to be with coworkers again after being in kid-world for a while.”

“That’s a big part of what I miss about going to an office. I adore Maggie, but have you realized how annoying some of the entertainment they make for kids is?”

Noah’s eyes widen.”So I’m not a terrible person? Do you secretly want to turnPeppa Piginto bacon, too?”

“God, yes.” I tilt my head back and laugh. “Whoever writes that shit is the worst. They obviously don’t have to watch it when they go home. They probably don’t even have any kids!”

I look at Noah—really look at her. She’s fiery with a foul mouth, but soft around the edges. Few people are truly the epitome of ‘what you see is what you get,’ but there’s no doubt that she’s genuine. The woman standing in my kitchen is a rarity, her guardedness is counterbalanced with thoughtfulness and wit.

Noah gives two fake coughs to get my attention. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. What were you saying?” Only now do I realize Noah’s hand in the air waiting for me to complete her high-five. Whoops.

“Parents shouldn’t be subjected to the torture of kid TV shows. Is creativity so dead that no one can write something an elementary schooler will like without making parents want to go postal?”

Parent.She’s used the word several times, but she told me at the coffee shop Rainey’s her niece, not her daughter.

I don’t want to step on her toes, but I want to understand her better. “Can I ask you about Rainey?”

“You can ask,” she tightens her lips, “and I’ll answer if I’m comfortable with the question.”

Noah’s authenticity, unwilling to sugarcoat herself for me, reminds me of my wife. Hannah was so independent and smart. She could debate circles around me. I always poked back, fully knowing I never stood a chance of winning. Our playfulness remained a core part of our marriage until the end. When she died, I let go of any notion there could be someone else I’d have that with. Goddammit! Noah’s not Hannah—I need to stop thinking about her like this.

“I appreciate the way you said that,” I admit, pulling my heart and mind back in line. “You mentioned Rainey’s not your daughter. You’re taking care of her while your brother’s gone?”

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