It would mean that she had kept something as monumental as a child from me. And the girl I knew would never do something like that. Something so selfish, something so cruel. But then again, she was no longer the girl I knew, was she?
Laurel was an adult now. A mother. She was a complete and utter stranger to me, and that was almost as shocking as everything else running through my mind. Here I’d been chasing ghosts, chasing memories from the past, and it was now blatantly obvious that those things no longer existed. At least not in any form that I remembered.
I stared at the clock in the suite and watched as the second hand made its slow climb up to twelve. It had just turned six, and I was trying to convince myself that it wasn’t too early to track Laurel down.
I wanted to talk to her. To have her clear up these crazy thoughts I’d been having all night, because maybe that was all they were—crazy thoughts. Ryan was probably talking out of his ass. Seeing things that weren’t actually there. But I couldn’t help the niggling thought in the back of my head: What if he’s not?
Sick and tired of playing this guessing game, I grabbed my wallet and stuffed it in my back pocket. The best way to clear this up was to confront it head-on. Then I could put these insane theories behind me and move the hell on.
I gave myself a once-over in the mirror and ran a hand through my still-damp hair. I looked exactly how I felt, tired and hungover. But there was no helping that, not even the shower I’d stood under for a good twenty minutes. I’d have to be sure to give Willa an extra-big tip for the hot water I’d used.
I opened the door to my suite carefully and slowly stepped outside. A quick look down the hall told me the coast was clear as I made my way toward the stairs. I was just about home free when the front door opened and Willa stepped inside carrying a basket of freshly cut flowers.
My feet froze and I gripped the banister to keep myself steady, and for a split second I wondered if I had time to turn around and head back upstairs.
It turned out I didn’t.
“Good morning, Noah. You’re up early considering the, uh, night you had.”
The smile Willa flashed was friendly and good-natured, and it was difficult to do anything other than return it.
“Morning. And yeah, the head’s a little sore, but that’s what they made aspirin for, right? I wanted to get an early start.”
Willa glanced at the clock in the main foyer and then back to me. “Early is right. I know Ryan is always up at the crack of dawn, but I figured the fancy CEO would be able to roll in whenever he wanted.”
“I’ve got, um, lots to learn over there as the newbie. CEO or not. The few extra hours in the morning always helps.”
Willa frowned, likely thinking that if that was the truth, why was today the first time I’d left before seven thirty?
Too polite to ask me, though, she gestured over her shoulder and said, “Would you like me to get you some coffee to go?”
I shook my head. “Uh, no. That’s fine. I’ll just make some over at the winery. You have a good day. I’ll see you later.”
Willa opened her mouth like she was going to say something else, but at the last second waved instead. “Thanks. You have a good day too.”
“Will do.” I rushed out of there as fast as my legs would carry me, and once I was in the car, I let out a sigh.
Shit. I needed to get it together and call my mom to somehow get Laurel’s address without raising suspicions. She’d be up, she always was by five, so I turned on the car and waited for the phone to connect. Once it did, I hit the winery’s number, and a few seconds later heard, “Good morning.”
“Hey, Mom, good morning.”
“Noah?”
“Yeah. Sorry for calling so early.”
“No, no. It’s okay. I’m just shocked you’re awake. You never were the early riser out of the four of you.”
That was definitely true. I’d fought tooth and nail for every last second of sleep I could get as a teenager, and not much had changed as an adult. The only reason I was up this early now was because I literally couldn’t sleep.
“I know, but, um…” Think Noah, think. “I said I would pick up Laurel before work and head to the farmers’ market first thing. We wanted to get some new…produce, to try with some of the menu today.”
What? God. I was such a bad fucking liar.
“That’s a wonderful idea. Oh, and while you’re there, could you pick me up a couple of big pots of petunias for the front door? Will they fit in your trunk?”
Good one, idiot. Now what are you gonna do? “Sure. I’ll see what I can do. But, uh, Mom?”
“Yes?”
“I need Laurel’s address. She forgot to give it to me, and I’ve never been there before.”
“Oh, of course. Let me get it for you.”
She rattled it off to me, and once I had it in my GPS, I thanked her and ended the call.
Willow Lane… That sounded familiar, but, not quite able to pinpoint it, I followed the directions. I arrived around fifteen minutes later, and as I made my way down the street, it finally hit me.
The old craftsman. The house at the end of the street. The one that Laurel had always said she’d one day own. I pulled up outside the front of it, and memories of our afternoons down here under the oak trees flooded back in.
Sweet kisses and study time, and days spent in the warm summer sun, as the two of us dreamed of a future that was never meant to be…
Jesus, she lived here?
My chest tightened, and that familiar ache over what could’ve been returned, as I scanned the familiar surroundings and shoved open my car door. The place looked much the same with its wraparound porch and two stories. It’d had had a paint job and several repairs since I’d last seen it, but other than that, it bore a striking resemblance to the picture in my mind.
Not about to get sidetracked, though, I headed for the front door, determined to get to the bottom of the questions plaguing me. I walked up the couple steps to the porch and noticed a pair of men’s boots and sneakers by the mat, along with what I assumed were Laurel’s Converse. It was weird to see, and I was once again hit with the cold, hard fact that Laurel was a mother.
I raised my hand, just about to knock, when the front door was pulled open and I found myself face to face with the boy—or man—who owned that set of boots.
Seemingly as shocked by my appearance as I was by his, the guy blinked a couple of times and just stood there. He was as tall as I was, with hair the color of Laurel’s, and as he looked me over, the blood began to rush around my head, because the eyes that finally locked with mine were identical to the ones that I’d looked at in the mirror this morning.
“Hi,” he said, and I knew I needed to pull my shit together, and fast, or risk looking like a total fucking weirdo.
“Hi. I’m looking for—”
“My mom?”
Something about the way he said that was both judgmental and protective.
“Uh, yeah. I know it’s early, but I thought I’d catch her before work.”
He eyed me closely, then crossed his arms over his chest. Protective was the exact right word. With that one simple move, he was telling me loud and clear that to get to her, I had to go through him.
“She’s not here.”