Page 48 of The Fire Captain's Unexpected Baby
“If he knows, then maybe you should let him decide whether he wants to be serious. He seems like he has a good head on his shoulders.” He rubs his chin. “Guess he has to, in order to be a fire captain.”
“How did you know he was the new captain?”
“Small town, sweetheart.” Mr. Oakley places a wrinkled hand over mine. “You think I would let just anyone date my second favorite lady?”
I don’t know what to say to that.
I’m touched that Mr. Oakley has asked around, all to ensure that I’m in good hands. I know he has very little to occupy his days, but I’m overwhelmed by the fact that he thinks of me just like Noah and I think of him.
“What does Noah think of him?” he asks.
“He seems to like him a lot. Aaron picked him up from school, and I came home to the two of them sleeping on the couch.” A smile comes unbidden as the memory surfaces.
“Shall we ask the boy what he thinks?” Mr. Oakley asks, his head tilted to the side.
He heads into the living room, where Noah waits for the puppies to return. He sinks to his knees on the thick shag carpeting so that he can be at eye level with Noah.
“Now, what doyouthink of Aaron?”
The question is innocent. Neither of us expects Noah to answer it. But he looks up at Mr. Oakley with wide, curious eyes and that toothy grin that I love so much. My heart flips over in my chest at the sight of them.
“Dada,” he says finally, then returns to playing with the puppies.
Mr. Oakley freezes. My eyes dart straight to Noah, unwilling to believe what he just said. He’s never called anyone that before. Not even Levi, and he spends alotof time with my brother.
“What did you say, honey?” I try to get him to repeat it, to be sure of what he said.
“Dada,” he repeats, as if this is obvious.
“Now, you don’t have to panic,” Mr. Oakley interjects, aiming to be the voice of reason in the situation—one I don’t have to reach far to remember thathecreated. “He was going to think that eventually about someone.”
“Not if I could help it,” I argue helplessly.
I never intended to get close enough to anyone for Noah to feel that level of attachment—or that level of loss if they disappear.
“You can’t live in a bubble,” Mr. Oakley reasons, his voice gentle.
“We should get the puppies back to the shelter.” I gather our things as quickly as I can, abandoning my still-full mug of coffee on the table. Noah pouts as I try to round up his things and cajole him to get back in the car.
“I hope you come back real soon,” Mr. Oakley says, leaning into the driver’s side window.
“We will. I promise.” Then I reverse and peel out of his driveway.
I just need space to think about what to do next. How did we get to the point where Noah thinks Aaron is hisdad?
Part of me knows exactly how: napping together on the couch and having dinner at the café like a happy little family.
I wanted this, but I didn’t want Noah to feel this way. Aaron hasn’t committed to us, to him.
No, I know what I have to do. For Noah.
It isn’t about what I want at all. I have different priorities as a single mom.
We drive straight back to the shelter and drop the puppies off.
“You weren’t gone long,” Megan remarks when I hand her their leashes. “You sure you don’t want to stay a little longer?”
“Have to get ready for the hospital,” I lie, already backing out of the door and toward my car.
