“Which code is that? The employer/employee one? Or the one where you trap my sister into the kind of life she’s spent years trying to escape from?”
“Whoa, hold on a minute. First, I don’t keep things from your sister. But even if I wanted to, she’s going to be home soon, and—”
“Save it.” Caroline comes over, helping herself to Otto. She’s got the same confidence her sister does, the same tender touch for my son. And the same hostility toward me it took an eight-pound, two-ounce unexpected miracle for Nora and me to finally get past.
“You know she used to draw pictures of the Eiffel Tower when we were kids? She’d color with us, and because she was so good, we’d all want to watch to see what she made. She’d tell us about how, someday, she’d go to France and live there. That she’d travel the world.”
“I didn’t know that.” Why didn’t she tell me?
“She never said it, but even at ten years old, twelve, seventeen, she was dreaming of something bigger than the inside of a house that was too small with too many kids who needed too much from her.”
Caroline smooths a hand over Otto’s always wild, blond baby hair. “Something better than a mother who took advantage of her but she loved too much to say no to… even though it meant missing out on all the things she made sure we never missed. We got to have friends, we got to play sports, join clubs, and try out for plays… because she never did. She didn’t complain. She loved us. But when she drew those pictures— her on a bike, at a bakery with French bread. In a sidewalk café. Walking along the Seine with glamourous friends —she was imagining a future that was finally about her. Where it was her turn to do more than soothe teething toddlers or do laundry after everyone else went to bed.”
I don’t have to look to know there’s a stack of Otto’s baby clothes folded on the coffee table. There always is.
That’s the life that’s inside these walls.
It’s the one I want. The one I chose, because I’ve always been able to choose. Because I’ve already had the chance to do and see so much.
But Nora hasn’t.
Caroline clucks at Otto, holding his cheek to hers as she rocks her weight from side to side. “Nora’s been waiting her whole life for her turn, and do you know what she said when I talked to her last night?”
I can barely force the words past my throat. “What did she say?”
“That she wasn’t sure if she could leave you and Otto. She thinks she’s in love.”
It’s like a blow to the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of me. The very confirmation that would have been everything an hour ago now sounds like the lead weight keeping Nora from flying.
“Thing is, she loves all of us too. And that love cost her her childhood. She’ll give up everything for you if you let her. So, the question is, are you going to let her?”
I want to throw up. I want to put my hand through a wall, but instead, I take a deep breath and meet Caroline’s eyes. “No, I won’t. Nora’s going to Paris.”
Chapter 20
Nora
The last two weeks have gone by in a blur.
In the beginning, it felt like I had forever here. March was months away.
All the time in the world.
And then suddenly, not.
Now the days, hours, and precious minutes are flying by. With so few left, I can’t ignore what’s coming any longer.
And it’s not just me. Axel hasn’t said anything, but he’s been different too.
He’s still the confident, sexy man making me laugh and smile. But it’s there in the way I catch him looking at me and the beat too long it takes his eyes to match his smile. It’s there in the way he makes love to me, like he needs to remember every second. Like he needs me to.
It’s there in all the moments when our eyes meet and I can feel that connection pulsing between us and I think, this will be it. This is where he asks me to stay.
Only instead, he asks how my French lessons are going or if I’ve read the article about the restaurant in Le Marais he texted me. If I’m making a list of all the things I want to do when I get there.
I’ve mastered the art of the noncommittal answer, but I don’t care about what I’m going to be doing when I get to Paris.
All I can think about is the time I have left here with Axel and Otto. It’s nearly two in the morning, and I’m staring at the ceiling, counting down the baby baths and bottles I have left. The delighted kicks when I come in to pick Otto up after his naps. The moments when he rests his tiny hand against my chest and stares up into my face.
Wiping the tears from my temples, I climb out of bed and cross the hall.
Standing at the side of his crib, I watch Otto sleep. His tiny chest rises and falls, his lips pursing and smoothing.
He’s so much bigger than he was that first day he came home.
I wonder what he’s going to look like a month from now. A year.
If I’ll see him again. Be able to hold him.
“Is he awake?”
I turn to where Axel is standing shirtless in the doorway, one heavy shoulder propped against the frame. Even in the dim light, he takes my breath away.
I shake my head and try to speak, but my voice cracks, and I drop my head into my hands.
In a second, he’s there. His strong arms surround me, holding me close as the emotion I can’t contain breaks free in a hiccupy sob.
“Aww, please don’t cry.”
“I don’t know how to do this. I thought I’d be able to walk away when the time came, that it wouldn’t feel like this.” Like my heart was being ripped from my chest.
The arms around me tighten, and I swear I hear Axel breathe a quiet curse.
Pulling back, I peer up at him. “I’m sorry.”
“No, Nora. I’m sorry. You shouldn’t be hurting when you ought to be bubbling over with excitement about where your life is heading.”
That’s the thing. I have to tell him. I have to risk it. “What if I’m excited about what my life looks like right now?” What if what I have right here in Axel’s arms with Otto beside us is what I’ve been waiting for?
He takes a deep breath and then sets me back a step. He’s smiling, sort of. Only it doesn’t look right. “Obviously, the Erikson men are pretty exciting. But we’re nothing like the adventures you’ll have in Paris.”
And then he starts talking about all the amazing things awaiting me, rattling off museums and tourist sites. Restaurants and nightclubs.
“…and there’s Notre Dame. Talk about inspiring, right?”
He’s pumping me up about friends I haven’t made and a job that’s likely going to be just another job. Telling me how much I’m going to love it.
There’s almost a desperation to it.
And I realize with brutal clarity that he wants me to go. Maybe even needs me to.
Oh God.
“…and you’ll probably start watching soccer. It’s big over there.”
I feel sick. Of course he needs me to go. I’m not just Otto’s nanny, someone he can let go if they aren’t working out. I’m his live-in girlfriend too. And that’s a role he most likely wouldn’t have been looking to fill if not for the very unique circumstances we found ourselves in.