A Measure of Love (28 page)

Riley snickered, toed off his shoes, whipped his T-shirt over his head, and charged over to a squealing Noah, who tried to dodge Riley’s grabbing hands. He wasn’t quick enough, though, slipping a little on the pool’s floor. Riley lifted his son before he fell and held him upside down, threatening to drop him back into the water.

“No! Don’t drops me!”

“Never,” Riley assured Noah as he spun and twirled him. “I’ve got you.”

Noah’s laughter was simply beautiful. It was dirty, true, and filled the entire yard.

·   ·   ·

Riley carried a sleeping Noah to Lexie’s front door, holding the small boy closely and breathing in his scent. He’d lasted five minutes in the car after playing and gobbling up the pasta that Joan made them all for dinner. It was safe to say that Noah had won Riley’s parents over in about three seconds flat.

He knocked gently before a barefooted Lexie opened the door
with a smile, wearing sleep shorts and a tank top. Her face softened further when she saw Noah in Riley’s arms. “He passed out,” Riley explained quietly.

Lexie laughed softly. “My heart.” She gestured for him to enter and directed him up the stairs. “Second room on the right. Has he been to the bathroom?”

“Before we left Mom’s.” Riley ascended the stairs carefully and pushed Noah’s bedroom door open with his elbow. The room was light blue. The walls were covered half in hand-painted stars and planets and half in Batman posters and stencil shapes. It was the coolest room Riley had ever seen. He placed Noah gently on the small cot bed and stood back as Lexie began to undress him, first pulling off his small shoes and then his jeans. She kissed Noah’s temple and pulled the thin sheet over his little body.

Riley moved closer to Lexie as she stood. “I’ve had the most amazing day,” he told her. “I can’t put it into words, Lex.”

She leaned her shoulder against his as they watched their son sleep. Riley tried to ignore the heat that seemed to permeate his skin. “I know what you mean.” She looked up at him, her face shadowed in the dark room. “Would you like a drink?”

Riley paused for a moment, staring at her, torn between his fear and the desperate need to move forward. He took a deep breath. “Sure.”

He followed her out of Noah’s room, down the stairs, and into the living room. “Take a seat,” she offered, pointing to the sofa. “I have wine or beer or juice, water . . .”

“Wine sounds good.”

She smiled before she turned away, leaving Riley standing in the middle of the room, taking in the cream and red décor, soft rug, and large fireplace. He smiled at a large blue box by the TV that was filled with an array of Noah’s toys, and the small whiteboard standing next to it that was covered with a four-year-old’s drawings of what looked like a person surrounded by rainbows and
flowers. It also looked as though Noah had been trying to write his name.

Riley wandered toward the mantelpiece, drawn by the photographs filling it from one side to the other. They were almost all of Noah. There was Noah when he was a baby—God only knew how young he was—wrapped in a blue blanket and wearing a skull cap that looked too big for his tiny head. In the next, he was sitting up, cheeks bright red as he gnawed on his fist, drool all over his face and hand. He was gorgeous. Riley watched as his son grew up in each picture, his face changing, his hair growing, him standing up without the help of Lexie, until he was kicking a soccer ball, his expression determined and fierce.

“That one’s my favorite,” Lexie said softly at his side, holding a wineglass out for him, which he took.

“How old was he there?” he asked, pointing at the first photograph.

“He was a week old,” she answered. “Sav got him the hat. It was far too big.”

Riley stared at the picture, his heart twisting with grief and love. “He was so small.”

“Six pounds, ten ounces. He didn’t feel small.”

Riley looked over at Lexie. “Same weight as I was.”

The side of Lexie’s mouth pulled up. “I know. Your mom told me.” She sipped her drink and made her way over to the sofa, where she dropped down.

Riley let his gaze dance over the pictures again before he joined her. “Your place is really nice.”

Lexie looked around herself. “It’s home. It has a great yard for Noah and it’s a nice neighborhood. His school is only fifteen minutes away.” She shook her head, glancing at the photographs on the mantel. “I can’t believe he’s going to start school.”

“He’ll love it,” Riley remarked. “He’s too smart not to.”

Lexie smiled and turned her body to his, tucking her legs under her butt. “He’s so excited.
He was excited about today. He barely slept last night.” She regarded him for a brief moment. “You really enjoyed today, didn’t you?”

Riley ran a hand through his hair. “It was so good. Just hanging out with him is amazing. I never knew a kid could talk so much.” They both laughed. “He kills me when he holds my hand or hugs me. He trusts me so much. We played in the kiddie pool at Mom’s and I was turning him upside and throwing him around—I was really careful with him—and I remember thinking, I don’t know when I’d last felt so happy.”

Lexie’s blue eyes seemed to shimmer. “I’m glad.”

Riley looked down at his glass. “Actually, that’s a lie.”

“What is?”

He huffed a small laugh. “I do remember when I was that happy.” He looked over at Lexie, noting from her expression that she knew which memory he was referring to: the night of her seventeenth birthday when they made love for the first time under the stars, and began making all of their plans. Riley shifted in his seat, avoiding her stare. “That was so long ago.”

Lexie hummed. “It was.” She played with a piece of her hair, twirling it around her finger. “Still feels like yesterday, though.”

Riley’s gaze drifted over her, trying to see the girl from that night: the girl he’d loved so much he couldn’t even begin to describe it; the girl who was his best friend; the girl he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. She was still there, behind her careful blue eyes, underneath the invisible scars of life that he knew they both bore. He blew out a breath before taking a huge gulp of wine. Jesus, he’d never felt so unstable, so fraught with worrying about what the best thing to do was.

“It’s okay,” Lexie said gently. “Don’t wear yourself out. I have no expectations. I don’t deserve any. Truthfully, I’m just glad you stayed. I like sitting and talking to you.”

Riley had to agree. For all that he missed about being intimate
with Lexie, losing himself in her body, he missed their quiet moments even more. They could laugh and play just as much as they could devour one another. It was why they’d worked. The balance had always been perfect. They had been friends first and, sitting with her, Riley was struck with how comfortable he was.

“I have something for you,” she said suddenly, placing her wineglass on the coffee table and standing up. “Wait right there.”

Riley smiled as she left, and rubbed a hand down his face, willing his heart and his brain to slow the fuck down and start cooperating already. He was exhausted with it all.

Lexie appeared a short while later with a large book in her hands. “Here,” she said, her eyes downcast as though she was embarrassed. “I made this for you while you were back in New York.”

Riley placed his glass next to Lexie’s and sat on the edge of the sofa, taking the book from her. It felt heavy in his hands and he cocked an inquisitive eyebrow. “What is it?”

Lexie dropped down at his side. “Open it,” she encouraged, folding her hands together and lifting them to cover her mouth.

Riley opened the front cover to find that it was in fact a photo album. A small piece of paper had been inserted in the first sleeve, upon which Lexie had written
Noah, 0–3 months.
He turned the page over and was met with at least a dozen photographs, all of Noah, from what looked like the minute he was born. Riley’s mouth dropped open as he looked at his son’s squished face, his hair covered in dried blood, wrapped in a hospital-issue blanket in Lexie’s arms.

“He was five minutes old there,” Lexie said at his side. “And here—” She pointed to a piece of paper. “That’s his foot from the day he was born.”

Riley let his fingertip trace the lines of Noah’s foot. “So small.” His throat tightened as he looked over the pictures and turned the page to find more. In each one, Noah changed, his face rounding, his smiles seemingly coming easier. There were two full pages until Riley reached another piece of paper that read
Noah, 4–6 months.

“I’ve done it up to his second birthday. There are so many pictures of him, I couldn’t fit them all into this one.” She shrugged. “The next one is halfway done.”

Riley shook his head, smiling at a picture of Noah on his first birthday, a pointed party hat on his head and a spoon filled with ice cream in his fist. “This is amazing, Lex,” he whispered. He looked at her. “You sure I can have all of these?”

Lexie gave a tiny nod. “I want you to have them. You should have been there. I can never make up for that. This is the least I could do.”

Without even thinking about it, Riley placed the photo album at his side and wrapped his arm around Lexie’s shoulder, pulling her in for a hug. It took her by surprise and she seemed to pause for a moment before she reciprocated. “Thank you,” Riley said, the smell of her hair making his eyes close. “It’s perfect.”

Her arms tightened around him and her nose dipped behind his ear. “Don’t thank me. I don’t deserve it.”

Riley rubbed a hand down her back. “Maybe not, but I appreciate it all the same.” He pulled back a little.

She smiled wryly. “Quit being so nice.”

Riley tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. The softness of it on his fingertips was so familiar it whipped his breath away. Her small hands fisted in his T-shirt and her tongue peeked out to wet her lips. Riley closed his eyes.

“Lex,” he whispered. “We— I can’t . . .”

She moved her hands to the back of his neck, pushing her fingers through his hair. She shushed him. “It’s okay. Riley, stop. I know. We’re okay.”

“I want to be sensible,” he said, the fight in him waning as her hands moved around his neck and her breath blew across his face. “I do. But I’m struggling to convince my body that it doesn’t want you.”

Her eyes sparked. “Riley, I won’t lie; I want you. I always have,
but I know we have a lot to work through before we can . . . be more.”

Her words were honest, they were right, sensible even, but Riley’s heart thumped in his chest, beating back every one of them. More? He didn’t even know what that meant. If it meant kissing her right now, tasting her tongue on his, then, yes, he did want more. After that? Who knew?

“I’m so confused,” he admitted quietly, pressing his forehead to hers.

“That’s allowed,” she whispered. “I only want what you’re willing to give me. No more. No less. If that’s just us being friends, that’s fine, too.”

Riley’s gaze met hers. “I don’t know what I’m capable of right now.” He ran his hands down her bare arms and watched gooseflesh appear in their wake. “God, you kill me.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close. Riley sucked in a breath when he felt her lips on his neck. Fuck, he’d always loved it when she did that. But this time, she was tentative, gentle, as though waiting for him to push her away. He knew he should, he knew that letting her do that was sending her the wrong signals, but, Jesus, she’d paralyzed him. All he could do was close his eyes and breathe and think about how, despite it being years since they’d touched this way, natural it felt to have her so close.

“I have to go,” he managed, his voice husky and full of lust.

“I know,” she mumbled into his skin, before she exhaled and sat back, moving so there was an inch of space between them. Her cheeks were beautifully flushed, but her eyes were guilty. “I shouldn’t have done that. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he replied, willing his heart to slow down. His lungs squeezed before he spoke again. “I want to be honest with you.” She blinked in reply. “I’m terrified.”

“Of me?”

“Sort of. But more of this.” He waved a hand between them. “Of what this means, of what it
might
mean.”

She dipped her chin. “What do you
want
it to mean?”

Riley lifted his shoulders. “I have no fucking idea.” Lexie moved back from him a little more. “Lex, wanting you was never the issue. I do; I do want you. I don’t think I’ll ever switch that part of myself off. But with Noah here now, I can’t just push my worries to one side and forget.”

“I know,” she uttered, smiling sadly.

Riley reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Let’s take this slowly, okay? See what happens.”

“I’d like that.”

Yeah, Riley would, too. At least half of him would. The other half, the half that was still scarred, still wary, wasn’t so sure, but, hell, what could he do? It was nothing but the honest-to-God truth when he said he was unable to turn off the part that cared for Lexie, that wanted her and, in many respects, still loved her. All he could do was take his time, be honest, and pray that she wouldn’t break his heart all over again.