feelings of stupidity and humiliation, of being less than, because he needed three girlfriends, not just me. I’d thought I found a man who loved me without that sense of . . . expectation Noah always had. Like, until I lived life the way Noah wanted me to—that was, move to Stoningham and start popping out babies—I was a disappointment.
Alexander had taken me exactly as I was. He’d been generous, fun, not unintelligent, easygoing. All he needed was two other women to make his life complete.
Oh, the fuckery of it all.
At any rate, I’d called Noah, told him two wealthy brownstone owners needed a window seat pronto, did he want a quick job in the city? Much to my surprise, he said yes.
When I arrived at his house this morning, he’d been passing off Marcus to Mickey in the front yard, daffodils blooming, sun shining on his hair.
“Girlfriend!” sang Mickey. “How you doing? Damn, you’re so stinkin’ cute. I could be gay for you.”
“You are gay, you tease. Hi, Marcus.” The baby smiled at me, and my ovaries spontaneously frothed over with eggs.
“Want to hold him?”
“We need to get on the road,” Noah said at the same moment I said, “God, yes.”
Mickey smiled and passed me her son. The warm, wriggly weight of him, his sturdy little legs kicking, and yes, people, the smell of his head . . . God. “Hello, gorgeous,” I said. His lashes were so long and silky, and his cheeks were fat and pink and delicious.
“Dwah!” he said, taking a fistful of my hair and tugging. “Baba!”
“He’s a genius!” I said to the parents.
Noah was smiling. Just a little, and probably at his son.
“Please, please, let’s get together,” Mickey said. “I want to see your goofy little house and drink wine.”
“Done,” said I.
“You’re nursing,” Noah said.
“Oh, am I, Noah? I forgot that my breasts are as big as watermelons and my nipples look like saucers and milk spurts out of me every time this baby smiles.” She rolled her eyes. “Mansplainer. Shame on you! I’ll pump that night and chuck it. Jeez. The nursing police here, Sadie.”
“He’s horrible. I’m sorry for all you endure.” She grinned. I liked her so much.
“We do need to go, Sadie,” Noah said.
I kissed the baby’s head—oh! The soft spot! So dear!—and handed him back to Mickey. “I’ll call you.”
“You better. Bye, Noah! Marcus, wave bye to Daddy!” She held up his fat fist and jiggled it.
Noah leaned in and kissed his child. “I love you,” he said, and my ovaries frothed again. “See you tomorrow, sweetheart.”
Which brought us to my current horndog state, sitting in Noah’s truck, his tools and some walnut planks in the back, the smell of wood and coffee the best foreplay I could think of. “I brought pastries from Sweetie Pies,” I said. “Want something?”
“Sure.”
I handed him a chocolate croissant and watched as he ate it, his jaw moving hypnotically. Would it be inappropriate to brush the crumbs out of his lap?
“Who’s watching your dog today?” he asked.
“What? Nothing! Oh. My nieces.” I took a calming breath and chose a cheese and raspberry Danish to get my mind off Noah’s lap.
“How are they?”
“They’re good. Brianna got her period and is officially a horrible adolescent, and Sloane is a little behind in school, but they’re awesome.”
He smiled, and I had to look out the window to avoid wrapping myself around him like an octopus.
When we got to the brownstone, all was chaos, as it tended to be with Janice. Movers were bringing in furniture, painters were finishing up, and she pounced on me, despite the fact that I was carrying the huge wonkin’ vagina flower painting wrapped in brown paper.
“Let me see it! Let’s get it inside. Up those stairs, second door on the right.”
Noah followed with his toolbox.
“You must be Noah, thank you for coming, you’re an angel, you really are, I hope you’re good enough to do this right because I don’t really have a choice right now. Unwrap the painting, Sadie, let’s have a look!”
I glanced at Noah with a smile. Hopefully Janice hadn’t offended him with her run-on sentences and half praise. He smiled back.
Unwrapping the painting carefully, I leaned it against the bed. “What do you think?”
“Oh, Sadie! It’s beautiful! You signed it, right?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Look how it matches the comforter!”
I suppressed a sigh. This was my bread and butter, after all.
The painting was a close-up of lilies, that most vaginal of all flowers, and sweet peas (labia), and I was rather proud