“One more thing you should know. He hasn’t been eating much, so he might not eat lunch.”
“Ms. Richmond informed the counselor of the issue. Grief can affect the appetite of adults, so I’m not surprised. The counselor had some suggestions, so I’ll try to get him to eat something.”
“Thanks.”
Before I left, I peeked through the window in the door. Noah sat at his desk with his cape draped over the back of the chair, staring straight ahead.
I didn’t want to leave him, but I had to go to work. I hoped he’d be okay. For the past two weeks, I’d felt as if a heavy stone was in the pit of my stomach, and the sensation hadn’t lessened. How did people do this? I was stressed the hell out, and I’d only been a parent for two weeks.
In the car, my phone buzzed, this time alerting me to an email in my inbox. I checked the message and discovered theinsurance company was requesting yet another piece of documentation. Brandon had been paying on a million-dollar life insurance policy, with his wife and son as the beneficiaries. Since Stacey passed with him, the entire amount was due to Noah.
I forwarded the email to the estate attorney and included a brief message explaining I’d look for the paperwork this evening. Then I took off for the office.
Overnight, my life had gone through a seismic shift. I was responsible for another human being who barely spoke, barely ate, and whose eyes were filled with more sadness than any kid should have to endure. At the same time, I had to keep working. I had three showings today, emails to respond to, and I had to check on a couple of my listings. It was early yet, but soon my phone would be buzzing with calls and texts from clients and colleagues.
I parked my SUV at the back of Houston Realty, a one-story brick building near the center of town. I’d been here ever since I earned my license. Before I got out, I glanced in the back seat and saw the abandoned Pop-Tart and empty juice cup and shook my head. He’d finished the juice, but he still hadn’t eaten much. He’d barely eaten anything in the past two weeks—except for the ice cream he gobbled up at the park with Julia.
Julia Richmond with the hip-swinging walk, friendly personality, and the ability to break through the wall Noah had erected. For a brief moment at the park, I saw the old Noah trying to emerge. The one I used to ruthlessly tickle, wrestle with, and chase around the house—much to the chagrin of his mother, Stacey.
“Take it outside!” she used to yell.
I smiled to myself. Man, what I wouldn’t give to hear her pissed-off voice again.
Didn’t Julia say the truck was usually at the parkin the afternoons? If ice cream was the one food Noah was willing to eat, the one food that made him become a semblance of his old self, then that’s what he was going to get.
Pick your battles,Mrs. Hinds had said.
You know what, ice cream wasn’t all bad. One of the main ingredients was milk, and milk was good for growing kids.
I walked to the door with renewed vigor. I was taking Noah for ice cream again, and it wouldn’t hurt to put in a call to Julia to let her know how he was doing and that we were stopping by.
Chapter 6
Marcus
Two weeks ago, I pulled up near this park and bought ice cream for Noah. Now I was back, scanning the park as we crossed the street, surprisingly anxious to see Julia, who said she would meet us at the truck.
I helped Noah down from the car, and he adjusted his cape so it hung properly, the mask still covering his eyes. Robin was once again on a mission to save the day. Or eat ice cream, whichever was more pressing.
He and I entered the park, sidestepping a woman pushing a stroller while holding a baby in her arms. Like before, there were kids playing on the slide, swings, and merry-go-round, screaming, laughing, and yelling the way kids do, enjoying themselves.
My sidekick and I bypassed all of them and made a beeline for the purple truck. When I had picked Noah up from school and told him where we were going, he had asked, “Are we going to get ice cream?” His voice had carried the faintest hint of interest.
When I confirmed that’s what we were going to do, he sat forward in his seat and asked, “Will Miss Julia be there?”
More than interest in his voice then. I had heard the faint sound of hope, and with great pleasure, I told him she would be there because I’d already confirmed with her. He sat back without a word and folded his arms with a certain satisfaction that couldn’t be denied.
As we walked through the park, I smoothed down my shirt and straightened my jacket, which was ridiculous because I was there for Noah to have ice cream, not to impress his child advocate.
As we drew nearer to the truck, I saw her. This time she was wearing gray slacks and a white shirt, and heels again. Her hair was in the same conservative style, her dark brown skin seeming to glow in the afternoon sunlight as she watched us approach.
When I pledged Alpha Phi Alpha back in college, I had been given the name Romeo, a name I’d had since high school that started as a joke. I had a reputation for knowing when a woman was interested and the ability to read subtle signals that a lot of guys missed. I used those skills to charm my way into women’s panties. So as we approached Julia, I put my skills to use, catching the way her eyes flickered to mine and held for a beat too long. I noticed the slight straightening in her posture and how her smile shifted from friendly to something warmer, more intimate.
She was definitely interested. I wasn’t misreading the signals.
And me, I was interested too. I had thought about her a lot since the last time we spoke, and seeing her again elevated my heart rate.
She dropped her gaze to Noah. “Look at you! Hi, Robin. What’s your other name again? Boy something.”
