“So much fun,” I agree. “I have your favorite cookies and lots of apple juice.”
That’s about the only thing this kid drinks the last few months, since Cassidy stopped breastfeeding him. Try giving him water, and he’ll spritz it in your face.
“Is Cass in the car?” I ask, stepping aside to let them in.
“She is. The contractions are still far apart, so I thought I’d drop Noah off before things get crazy.” He points to the bag I dropped on the breakfast bar. “I packed enough for three days in case Eli takes as long to get out as Noah. If you need help, Nico and Mia said to tell you they’re a phone call away. I called Gareth already, so don’t worry about work. He’ll take over your team tomorrow and Friday if needed.”
Gareth is Logan’s right-hand man at Stone and Oak.He started out working construction and now whines about sitting behind a desk delegating work. I bet he’ll enjoy getting his hands dirty again.
“You’re rambling, Logan. Chill. We’ll be fine. It’s not my first time, bro. Nico’s still got the spare car seat?”
He nods, setting Noah down when he starts wriggling in his arms. “Okay, Daddy’s got to go now.” He kisses his head, then taps his nose. “Have fun. I’ll come and get you when your little brother’s here.”
“Bye, bye,” Noah cheers, cuddling a plush t-rex to his chest. “Bye, bye.”
“Don’t give Uncle any trouble.”
“Bye, bye!”
“Alright, alright!” Logan chuckles, raising his hands. “I’m going.”
A minute later, we’re alone, and a cheeky grin twists Noah’s face a second before he drops his plushie and bolts for the snack cupboard in the kitchen.
You wouldn’t know he only started walking two months ago with how fast he runs.
“I should’ve checked with your dad if you had dinner.”
“Pasta!”
“You ate pasta, or you want pasta?”
He yanks open my dry-food cupboard and pulls out a plastic container filled with penne.
“I take it you didn’t eat then. We’re cooking, huh?” I set the container on the breakfast bar, then pull out a foldable highchair from the coat closet. “Deal, I could eat, but you’re doing the dishes.”
“No!” Noah yells with a giggle, banging his hands on the highchair tray.
“I knew you’d say that.” Grabbing a handful of wooden utensils and a plastic bowl, I set them before him, keeping the drummer entertained while I prepare dinner.
***
“Your mommy won’t be happy about this, so you need to promise you won’t tell her,” I say, wiping Noah’s face for the third time since we entered the building.
I don’t know why I bother. It’s not like he’s clean. The chocolate ice cream in his hand melts, dripping onto his hand, t-shirt, and—since he’s in my arms as I climb the second flight of stairs—my t-shirt, too.
Noah grins, licking the ice cream, and his face is dirty again. I don’t bother wiping it again, stuffing the wet wipe in the back pocket of my jeans as we emerge on the third-floor hallway.
Since he woke up at six am, I’ve changed his clothes twice. Logan packed enough for three days, but it’s not even been twenty-four hours, and I’ve burned through half the supplies.
“Hey,” I hear as I pop the key in the lock. Doing a one-eighty, I halt face to face with Blair.
God, she’s fucking beautiful again, dressed in black sweatpants and a matching t-shirt stained in white powder. There’s more on her forehead, her hair in a bun, a few locks kissing her shoulders.
I open my mouth to reply, but Noah shuts me up, stuffing my face with his ice cream, then bursts out giggling.
Wiping the chocolaty goo off my lips and beard with the back of my hand, I maneuver him over my hip. “You could’ve saidenough, you know?”
“No!” he cheers with a broad smile.
