“Thank you.”
Once it’s loose, we both stand up. “It was good. I’ll tell you more about it when little ears aren’t around. I don’t want Jack to think I’m talking about him. He’s sensitive about that sort of thing.”
“I understand. I’m just glad it went okay, and I hope I didn’t overstep any boundaries by talking to him.”
“Not at all. It went better than okay. He’s a little upset with me, but it has nothing to do with our talk.”
“Why is he upset with you?”
“Lately I’ve been feeling like Jack needs some extra attention—some one on one time. I promised him we’d spend some time together tomorrow, just the two of us, but with Angela unable to watch Emma and Henry, I had to cancel.”
“What about Duke?”
“Hot date.”
“Why does that not surprise me?” Nora grins. “I can watch them.”
I’m taken aback by her offer. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not. I’m offering.”
“Why?”
“Well, because I—” Her eyebrows draw together suddenly. “I’m totally pushing myself onto your family, aren’t I?”
“No.” I shake my head and take a step forward. “Not at all. I’m just wondering why you’d want to be here, watching my kids, when you could be doing anything else.”
“Like…”
“I don’t know. What do most women like to do? Go shopping? Maybe get your hair done? Take a cooking class?” Cooking class? Really, Gray?
“Oh, speaking of cooking!” Nora runs into the kitchen, slides an oven mitt onto her hand, and opens the oven door.
A succulent aroma fills the air, and I find myself walking toward the oven to get a better whiff.
“I take it back. You don’t need a cooking class. This smells amazing.”
“Let’s hope it tastes as good as it smells. The vegetables I found in your freezer expired a year ago, and there was a green, fuzzy film on the chicken, but don’t worry, I picked most of it off before I cooked it.”
My lips part, and I stare at her, dumbfounded.
“Relax. I’m joking.” She laughs and sets the dish on a hot pad on the counter. “The food is safe to eat, but your refrigerator is bare.”
“I’ll go grocery shopping first thing in the morning. The kids are always up at the butt crack of dawn anyways.”
“So, about tomorrow.”
“Nora…”
“If you don’t want me to help because you think I’m weird, or unqualified to care for your kids, or you just don’t like me, then fine—say the word and I’ll leave. No hard feelings. But don’t say no because you think you’d be inconveniencing me. I’m alone here. Aside from Nick and Jessa, I have no one—no friends, no family, nothing to do, and nowhere to go.” She breaks our stare, her eyes dropping to the delicious-looking meal she made. “How pathetic is that? I’m famous, I have more money than I could ever spend, and I’m bored and lonely,” she adds, lifting her eyes.
The vulnerability in her voice and on her face makes my chest ache. I don’t know what to say, but the urge to touch her is overwhelming, so I reach out and take her hand in mine.
“If you’re pathetic, then so am I. I know every Clifford book word for word, I can’t go to the bathroom or take a shower without being interrupted, and the conversation we’re having now is the longest adult conversation I’ve had in almost two years.”
“Are we a pair or what?” she says, smiling.
“At least we’re not alone in our state of patheticness.”