“No, but once he started sleeping in my mom’s bed, then he started living with us and became my dad.”
She glanced at Christa, whose face was bright red. Amanda bit her lip. She knew all too well some of the crazy things that came out of children’s mouths.
“Kids are more astute than you think,” she told the woman. “That’s nothing compared to some of the things I hear from other kids.”
“So, all you have to do is wait until Miss Amanda starts sleeping in your dad’s bed.”
Heat rushed into her face faster than she could blink.
“Yay!” Noah came running to her and climbed onto her lap. “Miss Amanda, you want to sleep in my dad’s bed?”
What she wanted was to crawl into a hole.
“Yeah, Miss Amanda,” Dillan said. “I’ve seen Mr. Dante’s bed. It’s big. You’ll like it.”
Christa ducked her head, and her face was still red, but now it was from trying to keep from laughing.
“Yeah, my dad liked my mom’s and now he’s my dad, so if you like Mr. Dante’s, then you can be Noah’s mom,” Dillan said with all the conviction of a soon-to-be-four-year-old.
“Then, you can be my mom.” Noah hugged her tightly. “Wouldn’t that be great?”
It would.
She hugged him back, her heart squeezing as she tried to come up with words that he’d understand to explain that it wasn’t that simple.
Then twin phone alarms echoed around them.
Saved by the proverbial bell. In stereo.
Later that night, Noah was sound asleep, and Amanda sat on the couch in Dante’s living room, thinking about the evening.
Christa had watched the boys as they cleaned up, so Amanda scooted next door for her laptop so she could work on those sample lesson plans once Noah was asleep. She wanted to be prepared and have a few made out if, no—when—she got a call from the school.
Blinking, she glanced down at the computer sitting open, but as of yet, unused on the coffee table. She’d tried for two hours but couldn’t concentrate. Between Noah wanting her to sleep in his dad’s bed so she could become his mom, and Dante out possibly dodging bullets while she sat comfortably on his couch, she didn’t have the capacity to think creatively.
It was no use. Sighing, she powered down her laptop, and shoved it back into her laptop bag on the coffee table.
And thought she heard a car door. But then things were quiet again.
Probably wishful thinking. She yawned.
“Amanda?” Dante all but burst into his own home.
She jumped so high that when she came back down, she missed the cushion and fell to the floor. “Jesus, Dante,” she said, hand over her bouncing heart as she scrambled to her feet.
“Are you okay? Is Noah?” he asked, rushing over to crush her close.
She frowned up at him. “Yes. He’s asleep and I was staring at my laptop all night. Why? What’s wrong? Did something happen in Houston?”
“No. Everyone is home,” he replied. “No issues.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
He drew back but continued to hold her. “The front door of your house is wide open.”
Chapter Eleven
Amanda jerked her head back as shock and dread nearly stopped her heart. “What? Dante, you know I keep that door locked.”
