Noaz (Van Doren #2)

14. Noaz

14

NOAZ

I’m nervous about meeting Miranda, though I shouldn’t be because she’s already chosen me and the paperwork went through. I’m all approved. She’s now carrying my baby.

But meeting people in person for the first time can sometimes be… disheartening. Too often, I’m not seen as a person, but some mix that apparently offends a lot of people. Not all people. There are some kind and beautiful people in the world, but it seems as if the hateful ones are the loudest and always feel the need to make sure their opinions are heard.

I hear you. I think you’re disgusting. Let’s move on now.

Anyway, yeah. I’m nervous.

Miranda lives in Colorado. It’s not a long trip, thankfully, so it doesn’t give me a lot of time to work myself up.

Briar is very aware of how nervous I am, though I haven’t expressed it out loud. He held my hand the entire flight, constantly kissing the back of it. He kept the conversation light as we continued to get to know each other.

We’ve figured out I’m definitely the more well-traveled between the two of us, but even so, he takes charge with the rental car. He keeps me close, rarely letting me go for more than absolutely necessary. I find I’m wondering if he’s doing so because he can feel how nervous I am or if it’s because he wants to touch me.

I’m not sure which idea I like better.

Once we’re in the car and heading to the medical facility where we’re meeting Miranda, my stomach begins to flip and I feel sick. This girl is holding so much of our future in her hands. What if she doesn’t like me?

I glance down at what I’m wearing—jeans and a t-shirt over sneakers. They’re soft in both color and style. My long hair is back in an elastic and I’ve kept my makeup light. I’m not sure if it’s better for me to appear feminine or masculine. I’m inclined to believe masculine because I put male on my application. She’s expecting a man.

“Noaz?”

Raising my eyes, I blink out of my thoughts and turn to Briar. “What do you need?”

I look around, realizing that while I was stewing about this situation, we’d arrived. How long have we been parked?

Taking a breath, I shake my head. “I don’t have many insecurities. It’s taken time, but I’m happy with who I am and I wouldn’t change anything about it. I won’t hide, but this situation is… different. I’m just afraid she’s going to look at me and decide I’m not the kind of person she wants raising her unborn child.”

Briar sighs and pulls me close over the center console. “You’re an amazing person, Noaz. Beautiful. Kind. She’d be stupid to change her mind based on anything other than something legitimately concerning. ”

Like the fact that I kill people? My playing vigilante might be concerning, not that I put that in my application.

Now that I’m thinking about it, it should probably be one of those things I tell Briar about, right? Or is it best to keep him in the dark? Just in case something happens and I’m implicated, his innocence and knowing nothing about it will mean he doesn’t face any repercussions.

Taking a breath, I push all that aside. There’s nothing to do right now other than meet this woman.

“Let’s go,” I say and pull back. We won’t know until we meet her.

Briar meets me around the back of the car and immediately pulls me into his chest. “This is going to be perfect,” he promises. “I’m confident about that.”

His assurance goes a long way. I’ve always been of the mind that I don’t need a partner. I can do everything myself. But I want a partner to love me for me and raise a family with. Share the same values as me. Briar is all that, but even more so, as he naturally nurtures. I’m slightly surprised how I melt and allow it as much as I do. No, I don’t just allow it. I crave it.

Who knew?!

We agreed to meet at the medical facility where we’re attending her doctor’s appointment with her. This one is a normal monthly checkup, but Miranda said we can learn the gender of the baby if we want to.

We do. Definitely. I don’t think either of us has a preference, but we definitely want to know.

With my hand in Briar’s, we make our way to the front of the building. There’s a little café inside; one of those fancy-ass places that cater to the bougie. I’m not entirely sad about it. The woman carrying our child will only have the best care, no matter the cost.

There’s a woman just inside the door, leaning against the wall. She’s got dark hair, is slim, and has a clear baby bump, though it’s not huge. I’m surprised she doesn’t appear as young as I anticipated she’d be. Later thirties, maybe. Which isn’t old, but I still imagined someone younger. She’s standing right where Miranda said she’d be when we spoke to her on the phone yesterday.

I try not to chew my lip as I steer Briar in her direction. There’s no one else around that could be her. I’m more convinced when she shifts and I see a gremlin on her T-shirt, just as she said she’d be wearing. Despite my nerves, it makes me grin.

Briar’s hand tightens around mine briefly, and I take a breath. Everything is fine!

She looks up and smiles as we approach. “Hi,” she says, pushing herself from leaning on the wall. “Noaz?”

I nod, offering her a smile. “Miranda?”

Miranda tilts her head when she hears my deep voice. Her eyes scan down my body, her eyebrows puckered. Then she stares at my face for a long time. I hold my breath, allowing her to examine me without interruption.

Then her attention moves to Briar. It never occurred to me that she might be upset about our pairing. Fuck.

“Your application didn’t indicate you had a partner,” Miranda says.

“You’d rather a single parent?” Briar asks.

Miranda shakes her head. “No, no. Sorry.” She laughs. “Not what I meant. I don’t mean to sound offensive. I’m just… surprised. ”

Taking a breath, I motion for the café. “Want to get a drink while we talk?”

She smiles. “Yes. Thanks.”

We head for the small café and order. With drinks and pastries in hand, we find a secluded table and take a seat. She watches us. Watches as Briar pulls out my chair. As he brings his seat closer and rests his hand behind me. I’m relieved when her smile ticks up while she sips her smoothie.

“This is a new relationship since I last updated the application, however, it’s reflected in the final paperwork I think you were presented with last week,” I offer. Part of me wants to point out that she signed it all.

Miranda waves me off. “I’ll be honest and tell you I didn’t exactly read it all. I looked at a few key sections.”

I nod. Yep, I’m curious.

She sets her cup down and sighs. “Okay, so I want to tell you some things.”

Briar tucks me into his side and nods. “We’re listening.”

“Raptly,” I say, trying to hide a teasing smile.

Thankfully, Miranda laughs. “I’m forty-two. While my age makes me a high-risk pregnancy, it’s been very smooth sailing with no concern at all from the doctors.” I sag a little in relief. I hadn’t known how old she was. I must have missed that in the information we’d been given. “I spent fifteen years of my life bouncing between foster homes. My mother died in childbirth and my father was a druggie. Dealer and user. Unsurprisingly, I was taken from him. When I aged out of the system, I was on my own. Yes, there are programs and such, but I had no family. I had nothing. ”

She takes another sip and I glance at Briar during the pause. Like me, he seems to be trying to figure out where this is going.

“I married as soon as I could. I wasn’t even nineteen. This is probably going to come as a surprise, but he turned out to be a dick.”

“Yes, I’m shocked,” Briar deadpans.

She grins. “I wanted a family, though. I was determined to make it a happy one. I stayed with him long enough to have three kids before he turned abusive. That’s where I drew the line and we divorced. Again, this may shock you, but he completely disappeared. He had nothing to do with me or the kids after the divorce.”

A story all too familiar.

“I spent the last twenty years raising my kids. Struggling to make sure they had food and electricity. A warm place to sleep. Clothes and school supplies. My entire existence went to giving them a home and trying to make it so they didn’t worry. A child shouldn’t have to worry about where their next meal comes from.”

I nod, my heart clenching in my chest. I grew up very differently and I’ll be honest in admitting my privilege, but I know Miranda’s life isn’t uncommon. I’m not so far removed to not know that many of the people on my crew in New York had similar situations.

But this one hits differently.

“It wasn’t until recently that I even considered dating again. Now that my kids are grown—my youngest is sixteen—I decided I was ready to maybe focus on me a little bit. I met someone a year ago and… it’s been wonderful. He has two kids of his own, also grown. It’s been so nice to just… live for myself a little. And then I got pregnant. ”

I sigh.

“I know it’s selfish, but I don’t want to start over. I don’t want to face three a.m. feedings and three years of diapers. Or to go through school shit all over again. I don’t want every single decision I make to begin with wondering how that will affect my small child.”

“That’s not selfish,” I insist.

“No, it is. A parent shouldn’t feel that way.”

“We can agree to disagree,” I say.

She smiles. “My boyfriend and I agreed on this. He doesn’t want to begin again either. We’re at that age where we’re ready to do adult things and be surrounded by adults and… whatever. So we discussed options. Honestly, I chose adoption because my first three pregnancies were super easy and uncomplicated. My longest labor was forty-five minutes. Recovery was easy. My babies were born exceptionally healthy. If it had been any different, I might have chosen something different.”

“We’re grateful that you did,” I tell her.

“I’m telling you this because, if at some point down the road the conversation comes up with this little one as to why their… mother—I’m not sure if I should be using that label but I’m not sure what else to use—but if they ever ask why their mother gave them up, I want you to know the truth. Obviously, you can say whatever you want, but I just don’t want any of you to think I’m a bad person. I’ve fought my battle since I was five. I don’t want to fight anymore.”

“You shouldn’t have had to fight so long. Or at all,” I say.

Miranda nods and shrugs. “It is what it is. I’m proud of my kids and that I raised them to be good people. I’m proud of the life I’ve created, despite where I came from. But I’m ready to live with myself as a priority.”

“We understand that and you deserve to,” Briar says.

“You asked if I wanted this child to have a single parent. I’m going to be honest and tell you that your relationship status didn’t contribute a bit to why I chose you. I grew up with absolutely nothing. I was poorer than poor. I didn’t even have a family to call my own. My kids grew up with nothing. I don’t want that for this child. So I looked at your net worth, and that was my deciding factor.”

My eyes widen in surprise.

“You know money doesn’t automatically produce good people, right?” Briar says. “Often, it creates some very ugly people. There’s a flaw in your method.”

Miranda laughs. “I know. Net worth was my first priority when weeding through the applications. Then I looked at everything else and I admit, relationship status still didn’t factor in when I was looking. Coming from my own experiences, both with foster parents and my own marriage, I know that is impermanent. Which is a big reason why I didn’t allow that to sway my opinion. Sometimes, a healthier situation is a single parent. I’m not saying easier, but it can definitely be healthier for everyone.”

I briefly think of Jalon and his ex-wife, the mother of my nephews, and agree. He should have left Martha when Loren was a small child. When he was first diagnosed with an antisocial personality disorder and Martha began trying to mold him, scolding him for existing as he did.

It wasn’t until things really hit a peak and her abusive behavior turned on the triplets that Jalon finally admitted it was time to go .

So I understood what she was saying as someone who’s witnessed an unhealthy relationship firsthand. All those people who claim to stay together for the children or who insist that having two parents in a household is the only healthy option never grew up in or witnessed an abusive household.

Ideals are good and all, but they’re not realistic.

“So, yeah. I might have had an unconventional method of choosing a home for this child, but I had my own reasons fueling it. And I’m confident I chose right. I can already tell by looking at you two; yours is the exact home I want this baby to grow up in.”

The tension in my shoulders fell away as I closed my eyes, and the nausea in my stomach finally settled. I tried to ignore the way tears stung my eyes. I feel like I’ve been borderline teary for weeks now because of the sudden turn my life took.

In a good way. But even all those good feelings can be overwhelming.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

Not just with a baby. But with a partner. The perfect partner.

I’m on the cusp of having everything I’ve ever dreamed about.