If he weren’t such a dick, I’d have a hard time resisting him, and now I had a new aspect to scrutinize: his smile, which I hadn’t previously thought existed. As expected, it consisted of bright white, perfectly straight teeth.
The longer I stared at him, the more evident it was that the smile wasn’t genuine. I glanced at Noah to find him still engrossed in the drawing.
“Noe, you ready? Let’s go, we need to stay on track.”
On track? What the hell did that mean?
Logan came to a stop next to his son.
“Noah.”
The boy pounded his fist on the table. “Hold on, I’m almost done!”
“Hey, hey…” I said in a soft voice. It wasn’t my place to parent him in front of his actual parent, but I wasn’t about to let terrible manners slide on my watch.
I tried to telepathically tell Logan to take an interest in what his son was drawing, and it seemed to work.
“What is it?” Logan asked.
“It’s a co-character,” I answered, “where we each add a part of the body without seeing what the other person drew.” Noah put down his marker, signaling that he was finished. “Can I look now?”
Noah nodded and unfolded the sheet of paper. We both cracked up at the exact moment.
“What the?” I laughed, pointing at the gorilla torso on top of the bird legs I’d drawn. The shoulders were mine, so of course I’d added little wings, and Noah topped the creature off with a one-eyed alien head.
“This isperfect,” I laughed.
I glanced up at Logan, and he had his head twisted like he was a dog listening to a siren. “What’s it supposed to be?”
I sighed. Did the man have zero imagination?
“It’s nothing,” Noah answered. “And everything.”
“We need to name it,” I said.
Logan sighed and glanced at the phone in his hand. “Bud, we’ve got to watch our schedule. C’mon.”
I was getting frustrated with his micromanaging. His withdrawn son was having fun—let the boy live!
“We’ve got a little time; dinner doesn’t start for thirty minutes,” I said.
“I’m well aware, but Noah’s is earlier. We’re on a different schedule.”
I frowned at him. “I didn’t see anything about that in his notes.”
“I’m referring to his evening schedule.”
Evening schedule? What did that even mean?
“Franken-bird,” Noah said, staring at the paper in his hand.
Working with children meant I was used to conversations that shifted on the fly. “That’s a great name!” I turned back to stare at Logan. “Can you explain more about his schedule?”
He considered it for a moment, his flexing jaw clearly conveying his frustration with me. Well, he could be annoyed all he wanted, but if I was going to be spending all day with Noah, I needed to know about any special requirements he had. Finally, this seemed to dawn on Logan as well, and he gave me a curt nod. “I guess you should get the full picture. Noah’s therapist?—”
My eyebrows shot up.
“Noah’s therapist wants him to stay on a regimented schedule. That means meals and bedtimes must happen at the same time every day, no matter what. Zero wiggle room.”
