Turning toward Emma, I thank her again for her generosity. As I head toward the car, I hear her voice behind me. “Volumes, Cora. Volumes.” She looks over my shoulder at Atlas, who is waiting next to my door. “Drive safe, Atty.”
“Goodnight, Emma.”
When I reach the car, Atlas opens my door, shutting it softly after I’m situated. I try to get my bearings as he walks around to his side and slides in. It’s quiet as we head back to my house. I attempt to wrap my head around the evening.
It’s like the Atlas I met and the one sitting next to me are two different people. He’s definitely complicated. I think back to all the timesat the shop I’d find him watching me, or how he’d suddenly be there when a customer was being friendly. Maybe he didn’t really hate me; he was just jealous.
Can I handle someone like that in my life? Can I let them into Noah’s? It’s not just me I have to consider. Growing up with violent parents, I have to be careful. My decisions can affect Noah and his childhood.
I’m so caught up in my thoughts, I don’t realize we’ve made it home, and Atlas is talking to me. Meeting his gaze, I say, “What was that?”
“I was telling you we’re home. If you get the door, I’ll grab Noah. Come on, it’s late.”
Nodding, I grab my keys and head to the door. On the front steps is a bouquet of flowers.That’s weird.They must be for one of the neighbors. I decide to take them in and figure it out tomorrow.
Unlocking the door, I quickly set the flowers on the kitchen table and go back to open the outer door. Atlas hits the top of the porch as soon as I open it, holding it for him to pass. He walks upstairs with Noah in his arms. I listen as I hear his voice. “Gotta wake up a second. You need to brush your teeth real quick.”
Quietly, I walk up the stairs to check on them, but I find Atlas already coming down. Closing the gap between us, I give him a questioning look. “What are you doing?”
“Waiting for you to say goodnight to Noah so I can say goodnight to you.”
Blushing, I nod and head up to check on him. I almost laugh when I get to his room. His clothes from tonight are on the floor even though his hamper is five feet away, and he’s already in bed. He must be really tired. Stepping into his room, I grab his clothes and toss them in the basket.
“Night, Cora Bora.”
I turn to see his sleepy gaze on me.
“Night, Needy Noah.” I smile asI turn off his light.
“Cora?”
“Yeah, Noah?” I pause in the doorway.
“Atlas seems cool.”
“I’m glad you think so, Noah. Night, bud.” I give him a small smile, trying not to show how relieved I feel. Closing the door, I head back downstairs and brace myself. Somehow, I don’t think Atlas’ goodnight will be as simple.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Atlas
Istare at Cora’s denim-clad backside as she walks up the stairs to check on Noah. I imagine what it’ll be like when it’s our kids one day, and a thrill goes through me. We’d have dinner with Emma or my brothers, maybe even a date night, then come home, put our kids to bed, and have some time to ourselves. Fuck, it gives me tingles just thinking about it.
Dinner with Emma went well, but I knew it would. I’ve never brought anyone to meet her, none of us have. Emma knew what it meant. Cora will soon, too.
Walking toward the living room, a bouquet of roses on the kitchen table catches my attention.What the hell? Who sent her flowers?They aren’t from me. Grabbing the bouquet, I twist it around, searching for the card I know must be there. Finding the little white envelope, I pull it out and open it. I swear, if it’s from Matt, I’ll break more than his legs.
I hope you’ve enjoyed your time with him.
It’s coming to an end soon.
Rage like I’ve never felt courses through my body.Who the fuck wrote this?I look through the bouquet to see if there’s another card, or some sign that it’s a fucking joke, but come up empty.Who the hell sent this to her?Someone will answer for this. Is this Matt? No, it can’t be. Thinking hard about it, I scratch his name off my list of suspects immediately. He’s too much of a pussy for something like this.
Hearing Cora’s incoming footsteps, I shove the card in my pocket. When she doesn’t find me in the living room, her head pops into the kitchen. Her eyes land on the flowers on the table by me. I don’t say anything at first, but I can’t bring myself to tell her about the note.
“They were on the porch when we got back,” she explains. “I’m guessing they’re for one of the neighbors, but I’m not sure. I didn’t have time to look for a card.”
I breathe a sigh of relief.Thank God.That explains why she doesn’t look panicked.
