Matt should have told her Noah’s mother stopped by every two weeks. Warned her, anyway. But maybe if Irene was a little jealous of the fun things Noah had done with Ari, she might come around more often.
In any case, Ari knew she needed to stop judging Irene. Yes, there were some obvious lapses in her judgment. And she could be a bit condescending with “the help,” as Ari and Cookie so clearly were to her. But at the same time, she was very sweet with Noah, listening to his chatter as though it had the potential to rearrange mountains or bring world peace, while she handed him pieces and praised him for the absolutely amazing, fantabulous job he was doing. Ari’s heart lit up seeing the glow on Noah’s face, the joy brimming in his eyes and bubbling over in his voice.
A cell phone rang from deep within Irene’s ginormous, expensive leather purse. “Can you toss me my phone?”
After witnessing Noah’s joy, Ari barely even resented being cast as Irene’s personal assistant. She rummaged down into the expensive bag, searching for the phone’s lighted dial and the source of the old Blondie song Call Me, then handed it over to Irene.
“Angela, honey, talk to me. It’s been ages.” Propped on her elbows, the phone to her ear, Irene crossed her legs at the ankles, swinging them back and forth, flashing the red soles of her shiny black high heels while Noah plugged away at the giant’s castle. Some of his glimmer died as he lost her focused attention.
“Yes, I’m in California, so of course you should count me in. I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Irene flipped her wrist to look at her watch. “I have to pack and shower and make myself gorgeous, but I can do it.” She listened, nodding. “Send your driver. I have no desire to manage the drive to SFO on my own. You’re a doll. Smooches.” Hanging up, she flopped over on the carpet, then rolled into a cross-legged position. “You are not going to believe this.” She waited until she had both Ari’s and Noah’s complete attention. “Angela got an invite to a private fashion extravaganza with three of the top designers. In Paris. This will be epic.” She clapped her hands. “We’re taking her daddy’s personal jet.” She patted Noah’s cheek. “I have to run, sweetie. But we’ll do all those fun things we talked about when I get back. Promise.” She leaned in, offering him her cheek. “Give Mommy a smooch.”
“But I want you to see the castle.” His lower lip trembled, and Ari saw tears glimmering. “And we were going to the zoo.”
“Oh honey-bunny, I wish I could, but I’ve got to pack and shower. So many things to do before Paris.” As if she’d only just noticed her son’s impending tears, she cupped his chin. “I’d take you with me, but you know your daddy would hate that.”
Ari’s hackles rose like a mama bear protecting her young. Irene had given Noah exactly an hour and a half. Ninety minutes of love and attention before the timer dinged. But getting into a battle in front of Noah would make things worse.
Irene rolled to her feet, smoothed her designer outfit, then held out her hand to Noah. “Walk me to my car so you can give your mommy a big good-bye kiss.”
Ari could see how much self-control it took the five-year-old boy to blink back his tears before he scrambled to his feet and took his mother’s hand. Outside, Irene hauled him up in her arms and covered his face with more kisses, while Noah threw his arms around her neck, hugging tightly as though he’d never let go.
After less than sixty seconds—Ari couldn’t help but count silently in her head—Irene pried him off. “Run to your nanny. She’ll help you finish building your toy.”
He stood staring at his mother for a long moment before finally trudging back to Ari’s side. For the first time, he didn’t reach for her hand, and when she bent down to take his, it was limp.
Irene climbed into the car, blowing kisses. “I’ll be back soon. We’ll do the zoo. Promise. Love you. ’Bye!”
Ari remembered the trampoline too late, and before she could remind Irene to have the store pick it up, Matt’s ex was gone with a squeal of tires as the sporty red car roared through the front gates, like a hurricane blowing through and leaving its wreckage behind.
“It’s not too late,” she told Noah. “We still have time for that picnic Cookie was going to make us.”
“I don’t want to go,” he grumbled, his mouth in a frown as he stared down the empty drive.
“Okay. Then why don’t we finish the castle so your dad can see it when he gets home?”
“I hate the castle.” He scuffed his shoe on the drive. “Why wouldn’t Daddy let me go if Mommy wanted me to?”