Chapter 2 - The Question Noah Wasn’t Supposed to Ask
By the time Noah stole John’s last French fry, Olivia had apologized eleven times.
John had counted.
Not deliberately at first. But after apology number six—when Noah accidentally dropped a mushroom into John’s water glass—it became amusing.
“You know,” John said, rescuing the mushroom with his fork, “you’re going to have to stop doing that.”
Olivia froze. “Doing what?”
“Apologizing for him.”
Her smile disappeared.
The reaction was so immediate that John regretted his wording.
“I didn’t mean—”
“No. You’re right.”
She wiped Noah’s hands with a napkin.
“I’m used to it.”
“To apologizing?”
“To people being annoyed that I have a kid.”
There was no self-pity in her voice. That made the sentence worse.
John leaned back.
“What kind of people?”
“The kind I apparently keep dating.”
Noah was making Sir Chomp-a-Lot attack a bread roll and seemed oblivious.
Olivia lowered her voice.
“One guy asked if Noah could stay with his father whenever we went out.”
John frowned. “That doesn’t sound unreasonable depending on the circumstances.”
“Noah’s father is dead.”
John immediately stopped.
Olivia stared at her plate.
“He died before Noah turned two.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
John didn't ask how. Something in her expression told him that question belonged to another day.
Noah suddenly lifted the dinosaur.
“Sir Chomp says you have to come to my birthday.”
Olivia closed her eyes.
“Noah.”
“What?”
“You met John forty minutes ago.”
Noah shrugged. “He gave me fries.”
“Apparently that’s the entrance requirement,” John said.
“Saturday,” Noah informed him.
John glanced at Olivia.
Her face had gone pink again.
“You absolutely do not have to come.”
“What kind of party?”
Noah brightened.
“DINOSAURS.”
Half the restaurant looked over.
Olivia covered his mouth gently.
“Indoor voice.”
Noah whispered dramatically, “Dinosaurs.”
John smiled.
“I'll check my schedule.”
Olivia gave him a look that said he was making everything worse.
He liked that look more than he should have.
Dinner ended nearly two hours after it had begun.
Outside, rain had started falling over Manhattan.
John offered to call them a car.
“We're taking the subway.”
“With a sleeping four-year-old and that bag?”
“I've done worse.”
“I believe you. That's not necessarily an argument for doing it again.”
She laughed.
John ordered the car anyway.
While they waited beneath the restaurant awning, Noah held Olivia’s hand and swung Sir Chomp-a-Lot through the rain.
Then a black SUV stopped across the street.
Olivia changed.
It was subtle.
Her shoulders tightened.
Her smile vanished.
John followed her gaze.
A man in a dark coat stepped from the vehicle.
He was perhaps thirty-five, polished, clean-cut, carrying himself with the confidence of someone accustomed to entering rooms as though they belonged to him.
He stared directly at Olivia.
“Liv.”
She stepped closer to Noah.
“What are you doing here?”
“I called.”
“I blocked you.”
“I noticed.”
John looked between them.
The man finally acknowledged him.
“And you are?”
“John.”
The stranger smiled without warmth.
“Evan Mercer.”
Olivia’s face hardened.
“You need to leave.”
Evan ignored her.
His eyes dropped to Noah.
“Hey, buddy.”
Noah moved behind Olivia.
That told John more than anything else had.
Evan noticed.
Something cold flickered across his expression.
“Still doing this?”
“Doing what?” Olivia asked.
“Teaching him to be afraid of me.”
“Evan.”
“I'm family.”
“No, you're not.”
The car John had ordered arrived.
Olivia opened the rear door immediately.
“Noah, get inside.”
Evan caught her wrist.
John moved before thinking.
“Take your hand off her.”
Evan looked at him.
For a moment, the easy sophistication disappeared.
Then he released Olivia.
“Careful,” he said softly. “You have no idea what you're walking into.”
John didn't move.
“Then explain it.”
“John,” Olivia said.
Her voice trembled.
That frightened him more than Evan did.
“Please.”
John opened the door for her.
Olivia climbed inside with Noah.
Before John could follow, Evan spoke.
“Ask her who Noah's father really was.”
Olivia went completely still.
John looked into the car.
Her face had lost all color.
“Don't,” she whispered.
Evan smiled.
“Ask her why a preschool teacher has been hiding a four-year-old boy from a family worth half a billion dollars.”
The SUV pulled away before John could answer.
For several seconds, only rain remained.
John climbed into the car.
Olivia was staring through the window.
Noah had already fallen asleep against her.
John waited.
Eventually, she whispered, “This is why I don't date.”
“Who was he?”
“My dead fiancé's brother.”
“And what did he mean?”
Olivia looked at Noah.
Then at John.
“I think this date needs to end.”
John nodded.
He gave the driver her address.
Neither spoke again.
When they reached her apartment building, John helped carry the sleeping Noah upstairs.
Olivia unlocked the door.
Then she stopped.
Her apartment had been searched.
Drawers stood open.
Cushions were on the floor.
A lamp lay shattered beside the couch.
Olivia pushed Noah behind her.
John reached for his phone.
Then Noah slipped around them and ran toward his bedroom.
“Mommy!”
Olivia followed.
John reached the doorway behind her.
Noah stood beside his small bed.
His dinosaur collection had been dumped across the floor.
But that wasn't what Olivia was staring at.
On Noah's pillow was a white envelope.
Across the front, someone had written two words.
FOR OLIVIA.
Inside was a photograph of Noah leaving preschool.
May you like
And beneath it:
HE BELONGS TO US.
