I kicked off my shoes and stripped out of my skirt and blouse, tossing them to the floor. Strolling across the carpet to the window, I looked out at Houston’s sprawling nightscape, which was alive with lights.
Somewhere out there was little Noah in his Robin costume and his godfather. “Uncle Marcus,” I whispered. Player or not, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
They had been the bright spot in a rough day. I recalled their walk to the SUV and the way Noah had reached for his godfather’s hand. Some clients stuck with me, and they certainly did.
I hoped they were doing okay.
Chapter 5
Marcus
“Noah! Come on, buddy, let’s go!” I hollered, glancing at the clock on the microwave.
I was running around like a chicken with its head cut off. When the alarm went off this morning, I had bolted upright in bed, unaccustomed to getting up so early. But today was Noah’s first day back at school. He’d had two sessions with one of the therapists Julia recommended, and the therapist had cleared him to return, but he was scheduled to continue seeing her twice a week.
My phone buzzed on the counter. Another text from Brandon’s sister, Zenobia:Have you thought about what we discussed?
Jaw tight, I stared at the message. We’d talked at the funeral and twice since then. I told her it was best for Noah to finish school here. He only had about six weeks left. What was the point of uprooting him and causing more upheaval in his life? She insisted he should move to Tennessee right away and explained she and her husband had two kids of their own and a nice house on an acre near Nashville.
“Noah should be with family. Real family.”
Maybe I wasn’t hisrealfamily, and maybe I was just a thirty-three-year-old bachelor who could have gone his whole life without having kids and been perfectly happy. But I didn’t believe it was a good idea to send Noah to Tennessee right now. I definitely didn’t feel like having a text argument with her this early in the morning while I was trying to get him ready for his first day back.
Two Pop-Tarts shot up in the toaster, and I dropped them onto a plate. These and fries were the only things my godson was eating. He had apparently lost interest in ice cream because he hadn’t eaten a bite of the cartons of vanilla and chocolate that were sitting in the freezer.
I poured orange juice into a cup. “Noah?—”
The sentence died in my throat when he walked into the kitchen, fully dressed like Robin again. My heart sank because I didn’t want to disappoint him.
“Hey, buddy,” I said carefully. “Did you need me to help you get dressed?”
“I’m already dressed.” His solemn brown eyes looked directly into mine.
I took a breath, racking my brain, wondering what was the right thing to say. “You can’t wear the costume to school. Remember, I explained that to you last night.”
I had laid out khaki pants and a green shirt, but when I tried to help him get dressed, he had told me he could dress himself. Now I knew why.
“I want to.” He spoke in a quiet but firm voice, his chin jutting in defiance.
I moved closer and dropped to his eye level, the way I had seen Julia do. “I know you do, but the school has rules. You have to wear regular clothes.”
“I want to wear this.”
“Noah—”
“I have to, Uncle Marcus.” His voice cracked, and the fingers of his right hand bunched in the cape.
“Why do you have to?” I asked gently.
Unshed tears shimmered in his eyes, and I felt like shit.
“Noah, I know you’re upset, but?—”
“Ihaveto!” he shouted, tears spilling down his cheeks. “Daddy said I could—” His voice broke completely, and he dissolved into sobs, his small body shaking as tears poured over the mask and streamed down his chin.
I pulled him into my arms. “It’s okay, buddy. You can wear it.”
I held him until he eased out of my arms. Looking at me with red-rimmed eyes, he asked, “Can I really?”
