She didn’t trust herself enough where Nolan was concerned to rely fully on her own.
“Wow!” Carmela said, her brow raised. And then, frowning again, she shook her head. “Still, I really didn’t think he’d just walk away...”
“I’d hardly call a couple of visits a month ‘walking away.’”
“Yeah and how long do you think that will last?” Carmela asked. “Until he starts seeing someone else.” She glanced at Lizzie and then added, “Or you do.”
She’d needed her friend’s honest opinion. But that didn’t mean hearing it was painless.
The microwave binged, letting Lizzie know her cup of tea was ready, and she figured there was nothing left to do but drink it, get sleepy and go to bed.
“You got pretty much everything you wanted, and then some,” Carmela said as the two turned out lights and headed down the hall.
“Yep.”
They stopped outside Carmela’s door. “You don’t seem real happy about that.”
She didn’t feel happy. “I think I’m just on overload,” she said. “And exhausted,” she added. “We’re going house hunting tomorrow. I’m sure everything will start to seep in then and I’ll be excited.”
Reaching up, Carmela smoothed a piece of hair away from Lizzie’s cheek. “Your life is going to be so much easier, sweetie.”
Yeah. Monetarily. Which had never mattered all that much to her, not that anyone else could seem to understand that.
“You still love him, don’t you?”
“I hope not. Because if I do, I don’t see how this is going to work.”
* * *
By the time Nolan picked up Lizzie and Stella on Friday, midmorning, he already had a Realtor from Austin Elite Real Estate lining up homes for them to see.
While a part of him felt uncomfortable, buying a house without anyone in his family knowing what he was doing, he couldn’t get the job done fast enough. He had his own money, could pay cash for the house, and no one would be the wiser. But his family...they told each other about major activities in their lives.
Especially since Austin’s debacle. They’d all learned to make sure that the family had each other’s backs.
Stella, in another of her new Christmas outfits, a red one-piece with a red, white and green netted skirt and three-dimensional holly balls on the top, had their Realtor, a middle-aged woman who’d been in the business more than twenty years, entranced. She assumed Nolan and Lizzie were a couple.
With a glance at Lizzie, who’d shrugged, he let the assumption lie untouched. Just seemed easier than trying to explain the truth of their situation.
Sandra had shown them three houses, driving ahead of them, while Nolan and Lizzie and Stella followed in the rented SUV, when Stella, who’d been sleeping on and off, started to get fussy.
They had an appointment to see the fourth house, and because it was owner-occupied it would be their only window until after the holiday. The house, a two-story with split double master suites, was at the top of his list.
“We’re about fifteen minutes away,” Nolan said to Lizzie. Their appointment was in thirty minutes. “I’ll let Sandra know we’re going to stop and will meet her there.” He had all of the addresses already typed into the GPS system. And he was already asking the voice search to find the closest library. They’d have clean restrooms. But with the crying, his virtual assistant couldn’t make out his request.
“It’s okay,” Lizzie said, raising her voice to be heard over the sound of the crying as she motioned to the parking lot of one of Austin’s more impressive office buildings. “Just pull in here. I can feed her in the car.”
Heart pumping for no sane reason, he did as she asked, finding a spot off in a far corner that had trees lining the spaces. She was already out of the vehicle and climbing into the backseat by the time he’d turned off the engine.
And in what seemed like only seconds, the crying had stopped, replaced by small sucking sounds. Because the car seat was right behind Nolan, Lizzie was sitting on the opposite side of the car. If he turned his head just a little bit, he could see her out of the corner of his eye.
He didn’t.
But he had to fight hard not to.
Tapping his thumb on the steering wheel, he looked at the trees, started to whistle one of the newer tunes the band was doing. The radio music he’d been playing, a streaming Christmas channel, had gone off with the car.
Thinking of Lizzie breast-feeding their baby was overwhelming. It warmed him in a way he’d never experienced before.
“Does it hurt?” he finally blurted when his imagination was taking him places he didn’t feel comfortable going. Not without her knowledge. “My sisters...none of them have kids yet,” he added, feeling like a complete idiot. He tried to distract himself, focusing on the bug-splattered windshield. It needed to be cleaned. He’d do that the next time he gassed up.
“At first it did,” she said, after long enough that he’d assumed he wasn’t going to get an answer, and was already formulating an apology for crossing one of the many unseen lines they seemed to have drawn between them.
All necessary lines.
“Or rather, after the first day or so. At first, it was really cool. Indescribable. Then my nipples got raw and so sore it was excruciating.”
“Is that normal?” he asked.
“Yep. They give you lotion, but mostly you just have to get through the toughening-up part, and then it’s great again.”
Stella’s breathing was heavier as she sucked and swallowed. It took upon a rhythm. Shhhhd, gull, shhhhd, gull. And then faster, as though she couldn’t get enough. Shhhhd, gull, shhhhd, gull. And slowing again.
He played around in his head with attaching different notes to them. Had a thought about writing a piece. A mother’s love song. His love song to the mother of his child. Would she accept it?
Thankfully, he was smart enough not to ask that question.
* * *
Lizzie managed to keep herself emotionally distanced on Friday as they looked at homes. The last appointment ran late and she and Nolan only had a few minutes to talk on the way home.
“So which house was your favorite today?”
She knew his. The fourth one. He’d told her so while they were in it, and twice afterward, too.
“Honestly?” Stella was sleeping in her car seat and Lizzie really just wanted to lie down and join her.
“Of course.”
“I didn’t like any of them,” she said. If this was going to work, she had to speak up. “I mean, they were beautiful homes, but I didn’t feel comfortable in them. At home in them. I felt like a visitor from the wrong side of the tracks.”
That wasn’t completely accurate, either. But it was as close as she could get to explaining the tightness in her chest, the desire to leave, that she’d experienced in every home they’d toured.
“I’m sorry.” She prepared herself for his frustration. Disappointment. Things she’d not really experienced the year before.
Because their relationship hadn’t been real. They’d had no opportunity to experience differences of opinion, hardship or challenges.
She had no idea how Nolan handled any of the above, except to know that, in the end, he’d bailed.
And yet, she wanted to know that part of him. If they were going to coparent, live in the same home when he was in town, they were going to have to leave the fairy tale of last year behind and learn how to have a real relationship. One where they actually did disagree about things.
Truth was, she wanted that relationship. Badly. Wanted to know the whole Nolan, not just his fantasy parts.
“Was there anything you liked about any of them?” he asked, sounding more like Sandra than someone with an actual stake in which house they chose.
“Of course!” She went on to list at least a dozen. The landsca
ping in one of the yards had been a particular standout. She’d loved the water feature. And the six-foot wooden fencing. There’d been the cupboard arrangement in one of the kitchens. The carpeted bedrooms in another. They’d all had garden tubs in the master and she’d been a fan. A walk-in closet had caught her attention.
He nodded, glancing over at her as though he was fully engaged in what she was saying, but gave no opinions of his own. Maybe that was okay. This was going to be her home. A visitation spot for him.
“What did you like about that fourth house so much?” she asked. He’d pointed out the extra room that could be a playroom. The island in the kitchen for her to have room for baking.
She’d told him, the year before, that she loved to bake and had been wondering if he remembered that, or if he’d just been making assumptions.
“I liked that it had split masters,” he told her. “I’d have my own area. We could even add an outside entrance. You could keep it locked off when I’m not there and not feel as though parts of your house were inaccessible to you. It’d be just off there by itself.”
Okay. She hadn’t thought of that. She had been trying hard all day to picture only herself and Stella in the homes. As for Nolan being there...well, she’d find a way to deal with that when the time came. Find a way not to notice how good he smelled. Or how much even the sight of his hands could make her remember them all over her.
“It was just so...big,” she told him. “I was kind of thinking one-story. That ranch-style Sandra talked about. I wonder if there are any smaller homes with split masters?”
She’d never looked at homes before. Hadn’t lived in a house since her parents had been killed when she was eleven.
He nodded. “I’ll have Sandra type in all of your parameters for tomorrow.”
They’d already agreed they’d start looking again at ten the next day.
Because they were running late, once again, Nolan had to head out the second they pulled in the lot of her apartment complex. The only thing different on Friday’s departure was that he leaned into the backseat to kiss Stella before he left, telling her that Daddy loved her.
Good thing he didn’t hang around long enough to see the tears that pooled in Lizzie’s eyes at the sound of his voice saying those words.
He’d never told her he loved her. Not even during their last, intense hours of sex the night before he’d left town.
She’d never told him, either.
You still love him, don’t you?
Carmela’s words from the night before came back to her as she unstrapped Stella’s carrier, threw the diaper bag and her purse over her shoulder and headed into the apartment.
How could she love a man she didn’t really know? One she couldn’t trust?
He’d bailed on her before. He could again. She just had to hope it would work out.
Somehow.
Chapter Sixteen
Stella was wide awake when they arrived at the first house on Sandra’s list on Saturday, so Nolan, taking Lizzie at her word, picked the baby up.
“I’ll carry her,” he announced to the woman who felt so right at his side. “That way we don’t have to deal with unhooking the carrier.” It wasn’t much to deal with. Click and click.
Lizzie didn’t smile, but she didn’t argue, either, as she walked with him to the front door of a modestly sized home in the same neighborhoods they’d been in the day before. The choices were all in gated communities—one of his qualifications he’d given Sandra, and yet, to him, seemed very much mainstream middle-class.
“Wow.” Lizzie’s eyes were wide as soon as they stepped inside.
Instead of going off on his own, as he had in every house the day before, he stayed right by her side. Partially because he wasn’t sure she’d pay attention to the house if he disappeared with the baby, but also because he was just drawn to be there.
Yesterday he’d been getting a feel for how far she’d let him go in terms of opulence. Today, he knew what she needed.
He was also getting a feel for the warmth of his little girl against his chest. How could he feel so strong and capable, and so weak at the same time?
What were these Sullivan females doing to him?
“I love it out here,” Lizzie said when she walked through French doors off the eating area into a backyard that, while not huge, was completely fenced and private, and had a filtered and treated waterfall and cement-bottom pond in the center of it, surrounded by flowering plants.
You’d think he’d taken her to the Taj Mahal, the way she was awed, and he wanted to take her into his arms, too. To kiss her. And laugh out loud for no reason whatsoever.
It wasn’t a home he’d have chosen. There wasn’t a closet in it big enough to contain all of his suits and business shoes, let alone anything else. There was no place for his cars. His art. His pool table. No place to host clients for a quiet evening at home.
But the house wasn’t for him.
When Lizzie told him that she didn’t need to see any more houses, that she’d made her choice, he made a full-price cash offer on the spot.
There’d still be a bit of waiting period, for a title search and paperwork, but if all went as planned, he could get Lizzie moved in the weekend between Christmas and New Year’s and still make it home in time for the big Fortune New Year’s bash.
Even if the papers weren’t finalized yet, since the house was vacant, he could rent the place for her until closing.
Everything was going exactly as planned.
So why did he feel like he was walking a tightrope over a canyon? And yet, even feeling that way he knew there was no way he’d opt out.
He and Lizzie and Stella weren’t going to be a traditional family, or even a real family at all, but they were finding a way to make “them” work. As best as they could. He told himself he was good with the arrangement.
And he hated that he’d just purchased a home for a captivating woman to live in with his child and there was no way he’d ever fit in it with them.
* * *
Saturday night, when Carmela offered to stay with Stella and strongly suggested that Lizzie head to the club to hear Nolan play, she wanted to say no. Unequivocally. To her, it felt like the wrong thing to do.
And yet, there she was, in her newest pair of jeans with a black button-down blouse that gathered at the back, black boots and the red quilted zipper vest Aunt Betty had sent her for Christmas, getting ready to pull open the door.
Her hair was down, as usual, but she’d put on full makeup for the first time since Stella was born—which for her meant foundation, blush and eyeliner. Most times lately it was just foundation. And, if she wanted to be fancy, a bit of blush.
Would he think she was inviting more than she was? Coming on to him?
Backing away, she leaned against the outside wall for a minute, trying not to panic.
What was she doing?
The door opened and she could hear music coming from inside. Truthfully, she missed the fact that Nolan hadn’t talked to her about his music much at all. The year before, they’d talked about every song in every set. And had both been engrossed in the conversation. That in itself had set him apart for her.
This year they were taking care of their baby and buying a house.
And hardly talking to each other, about each other, at all.
Showing up at the club wasn’t going to change that.
Why had Carmela started this?
She should never have come.
The door opened again, someone else going in. If she didn’t hurry, there wouldn’t even be seats left in the back.
A sax solo started and she stood up straight, moved forward to hear it better. Almost like she was in a trance, she continued toward that sound of the music. Nolan might not be exactly who she thought he was, but his music still called to her. It had been
what had first drawn her to him the year before.
That’s why she was there.
She couldn’t afford fantasy. Romance. Believing in happily-ever-after or soul mates or undying love. She had to stay firmly in reality.
But Nolan’s music—it was real.
And if she was going to know the real him, or find the courage to live her foreseeable future as she’d promised him she would, she couldn’t leave the music out.
There was too much danger that it would creep up on her later, play with her emotions, and she’d get hurt.
Or worse, Stella would.
Nolan was just finishing the last phrase of his solo in one of the new pieces when he opened his eyes to see Lizzie standing in the doorway of the club.
Heart in his throat, he cut the last notes short and hardly noticed when the next number started without him. Was something wrong? Where was Stella?
Getting ready to put his horn down and hurry offstage to meet her, he just stood there, looking like an imbecile, he figured, while she scoped out a table in the back and took a seat. When he noticed her speak to a waitress who approached, and saw a little white napkin placed on the table in front of her, he sent an apologetic glance to Daly and jumped into the song.
Before they’d finished another stanza Daly and Branham had both noticed Lizzie, and were grinning at him.
Guess they knew now where he’d been spending his days. They probably figured he’d hooked up with Lizzie again, as he had the year before. He was going to have to let them think it. Taking their razzing was better than getting anywhere near close to his truth.
They’d hear that soon enough. When he told them why he was quitting the band. His free time was all going to be spent in Austin now.
A tall glass of clear liquid with a straw landed on Lizzie’s table. Probably the lemon-lime soda she’d had a few times when they’d been out this past week. She steered clear of caffeine and alcohol. She was nursing.
His baby.
She hadn’t been drinking much the year before, either. Lizzie wasn’t much of a partyer. He knew that about her.
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