Page 33 of Nothing Left To Lose But You

“Right.”

“I’m curious—you’ve mentionedparentinga few times. Is this a long-term thing or . . .”

She hugs her arms around herself, and I fear I’ve asked too much. But Noah’s words echo back—she’ll only answer what she’s comfortable with.

“My brother’s going to be gone for a while, could be as long as a year. I have no illusions that I’m Rae’s mother. But what else do you call taking care of someone else’s kid full time? It’s kind of weird, right?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s weird, but I’ve never met anyone in your situation. What about her mom? Are they not together?”

She shakes her head. “Rae’s never known her mother. She took off after the delivery, so my brother’s a single dad. I help when I can.” A strange look crosses her face and she exclaims, “Logan. Something’s burning.”

“Oh, hell.”

I grab a mitt and throw open the oven door. What I pull out no longer resembles bread. I set the pan on the stove’s unused burners, then I realize that the water has completely boiled off from the pot of noodles I’m cooking. They’re dried out and stuck to the bottom of the stainless pot.

“What are you doing?” I ask when I look up and see Noah’s phone to her ear.

“This,” she points to my attempt at lunch, “isn’t edible. I’m calling in reinforcements.” She goes silent, waiting for the call to be picked up. “Hey Eddie! It’s Noah. Can I get a couple of pizzas delivered? One second.”

She pulls the phone away from her ear and asks what kind of pizza Maggie likes. I crinkle my nose and pout before handing over our usual pizza order.

“Two pizzas. One with just cheese, and on the other I’d like banana peppers, pepperoni, red onions, and a swirl of ranch sauce after it comes out of the oven. And Eddie—no olives this time.” She slides in an order of fried pickles before hanging up.

“You didn’t give him my address.” I smirk.

She flips me the bird and calls Eddie back to share my address.

“Who’s Eddie, and why are you on a first-name basis with him?”

“You haven’t experienced Uncle Rick’s pizza yet?”

“Uncle Rick’s?”

“I know it’s a weird name, but you’re in for a treat. I think it was a family business for a while before an investor in Newport bought it a few years back. Eddie’s the manager. He’s the only one I’ll place an order with. Some of his teenage workers skimp on toppings.”

“Not the toppings!” I throw my head back and toss my forearm over my face like a damsel in distress.

Noah narrows her eyes at me. “Hey—I pay for those toppings, and I want what I’m owed.”

“You take your pizza seriously.”

“I take everything I put in my mouth seriously.”

Did she—did she just say what I think she said? Who the hell is this woman?

Noah slaps her hand over her mouth. “Oh. My. God. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, I swear.” She stammers and looks away, her cheeks reddening more by the second. “I know this is becoming like a thing with us, but it’s not on purpose. Sometimes my mouth gets away from me. Oh, my god. I’m sorry.” She drops her face into her hands.

No woman has ever apologized to me as much as Noah does. She sticks her foot in her mouth a lot. Whether she’s secretly a pervert or just terrible at choosing her words, I don’t really care because it’s riotous. Unfortunately, her inappropriate comment awoke more than just laughter in me. I quickly turn away, seizing the opportunity to adjust myself and work on the cleanup needed after my cooking attempt. Noah walks around the island to help.

“It’s okay, I’ve got it,” I blurt out, and turn away again to busy myself throwing out the burned bread. “Why don’t you check on the girls while I clean up?”

When the pizza arrives, the girls emerge covered in stickers from head to toe. Rainey rolls Hope out of Maggie’s bedroom in a babydoll stroller to join us for lunch. Noah and I take in the sight of her niece prancing a cat out to lunch with absolute sincerity, and bite our lips to force our giggles down.

All traces of serious conversation and Noah’s foot-in-mouth innuendo disappear as the four of us devour Uncle Rick’s pizza.

“Pretty good, right?” Noah asks with her mouth full.

“It’s not as good as California pizza, but it’ll do.” I don’t mean a word I say. It’s damn good—maybe the best pizza I’ve ever had.

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