Monday, September 19, 2022

Noah practices the two moves Cindy has taught him. In one, he goes limp and slides out of the attacker's arms while screaming, then runs for his mum or Harry. The other move he learns is to pretend he has to go to the bathroom to get away from someone who makes him uncomfortable. He doesn't have to practice the second more than three times. Clearly the kid has had issues with needing to pee in the past.

"If you have to, Noah," Cindy tells him, "It's okay to pee on your attacker."

"That's gross!" Noah shrieks, laughing while bent over at the waist.

"Exactly my point," the bodyguard instructs, "No attacker is going to continue to try to take you if you pee all over them."

The kid quits laughing and tilts his head. "Probably I'd be so scared that I would pee anyway," he reveals quietly.

"No reason to be scared when you have the training to rescue yourself," Cindy ruffles his hair.

"Time for bed, little man," Harry insists as the tired child rubs his eyes and yawns.

"But Papa... I wanna watch you put on the new lock."

Harry considers the boy's words and demeanor as Cindy packs up her accoutrements for her trip home. Trading a smile with Nataley over Noah's head, he schemes. "Tell you what, N. Why don't you hop in the shower and then into jammies? After that, you can help me put on the new lock."

"Yay," the eleven-year-old sleepily attempts, but his voice falls flat as he drags his feet towards the shared bathroom. "Night, Cindy," he mumbles, "Thanks for teaching me stuff."

"Of course," the bodyguard graciously comments, watching Noah disappear. "He's a sweet kid," she remarks to Nataley and Harry. "And you're clearly great parents."

Clearing his throat, Harry sheepishly gazes at the floor, shuffling his feet before making eye contact with Cindy. "He's not mine."

"Bullshit," the woman counters. "Perhaps not by birth, but there's no question that the kid is yours as much as he is Nat's. How long have you been his surrogate father?"

"Since he was four," Nataley chimes in. "Noah has been with his father half time since our divorce when Noah was three, and Harry has been in his life since then."

"He was with his birth father half time -- until Saturday," Harry inserts, walking to the door and cautiously opening it. Frantically, he grabs at Chuck's collar to prevent the dog from escaping. He's grateful when Nat attaches the lead and settles in a kitchen chair while the pup whines and strains towards the open door. Sorting through Nat's toolbox from the coat closet, Harry begins removing the current lock with a Phillips head screwdriver.

"Yes," Nat resumes the narrative. "Saturday we broke free from my ex-husband. I used to think he would try to raise a stink about custody, but sadly I don't think --" she glances at the bathroom door, only continuing when they all hear the water of the shower running, "-- I don't think he cares enough about Noah to fight me anymore. Not now that he knows there's no money in it for him."

Silently, Harry agrees with her assessment. Oh, Duane would probably still find excuses to make trouble like he had when they wanted to take Noah to England pre-pandemic, but truly Harry didn't worry that Duane would put up giant roadblocks. Just annoying ones.

As Cindy helps, they install the new door lock. Harry starts adding the screws just as Noah exits the bathroom. Shit.

"Papa?" the boy calls quietly. "Is it okay if I just sleep now? You can maybe show me how the lock works tomorrow?"

Relieved, Harry responds, "Sure, little man. I'm bummed, but your mama and Cindy can stand in for you. After all, it takes two of them to make up for your absence."

"Silly Papa. Come kiss me goodnight when you're done?"

"You bet, mate."

Nat guides the straining cavachon Chuck into the boy's bedroom to tuck Noah in, and Harry directs his attention back to the installation of the new door lock.

"So Saturday was a celebration of Noah's father no longer being part of the mix?" Cindy inquires.

"Something like that." Harry's reply isn't specific as he doesn't think the bodyguard needs the details.

"No matter what happened with his father, he's certainly lucky to have you in his life," she comments, and Harry's chest swells.

"Nope," he corrects her. "I'm the lucky one. That kid is golden."

As they complete their task, Harry spies Cindy's grin.

"What?" He demands.

"Seems to me that it's the combination of the three of you that's golden. I'm glad I get to help everyone feel safe."

When Harry awkwardly stands, reading the directions and typing in the full six-digit code to program the door, Cindy dusts her hands on her jeans and gathers her personal items.

"I'll see you both tomorrow, Harry. Thanks for the opportunity to be part of the magic you've established here. Goodnight."

"Cindy?" His voice stops her as she steps outside of the front door. Turning, she raises an eyebrow at him. "What do you get out of this?"

"Besides the handsome amount of money you're paying me?"

Harry nods.

"And the fabulous experience of spending time in the company of three such beautiful humans?"

He nods again.

Cindy swallows, looking away and then back at him. "Two things. One." She holds up a pointer finger. "You'll guide the right next clients my way so I can keep doing this work. And two," Her middle finger joins the pointer, "I might want an autograph for my collection."

Chuckling, Harry adds, "Not to mention that you'll be our first call for large event work."

The bodyguard shrugs. "That too. I'd like to build my own company and not have to work for someone else all the time. This freelance stuff is what feeds my soul, and I'd really enjoy creating a business that teaches people the skills to take care of themselves. Besides, I won't be this young forever so I need something else to fall back on."

"Interesting," Harry ponders. "I may know some people willing to invest in such a business. Have you got a formal plan for potential investors?"

Cindy's eyes widen. "Not yet. Right now it's only an idea I've been playing with."

"Get me a business plan by the end of your time here with Nat, and I'll see how I can help." He promises.

"Seriously?"

"Absolutely! A good business model deserves to get off the ground. Put it on paper, and we'll talk." He sticks out his hand, and she grasps it hungrily.

"Thank you, Harry. That would mean the world to me." Her mouth opens and closes a few times, and she blinks rapidly before backing out of the front door and turning away. "See you tomorrow."

"That was kind," Nat mentions from behind him, and he twirls to face her.

"Um, I'm almost finished with this," he promises, stepping outside and pulling the door shut. From outside, he presses the button he had programmed, listening for the lock to engage. When it does, he grins and unlocks it again for entry.

"Just gonna ignore me?" Nat asks.

"No, but there's not really anything else to say, you know? It's a good idea, and I wouldn't mind backing a business owned by a black woman. America needs more women of color as business owners." He feels the blush creep up his neck. "Noah asleep?"

"Yep," she nods, releasing Chuck's lead. The dog jumps on Harry's legs, begging to be petted.

Scratching the dog's ears, he gazes at Nat. "I'll go kiss him goodnight since I promised. Nightcap?"

"Sure," she beams. As he passes her, Chuck trailing at his feet, Harry captures her lips in a kiss, his teeth catching her bottom lip playfully while he growls.

"I love you," he whispers.

"I adore you," she responds, and his heart glows.

Stepping into Noah's bedroom, Harry tiptoes to the boy's bed. Even though he knows that Noah will sleep through anything, he attempts to be quiet and unobtrusive. "I love you as much as I love your mama," he whispers into the boy's forehead before pressing a kiss there. "You and your mama are my whole world." As he says the words, he knows he means it. If things were to fall apart this time -- he clears his throat of the unshed tears. Nope. Not going to think about that as even a remote possibility. They will make it work this time. He's sure of it.

Stepping into the small hallway, he draws the bedroom door closed. For a moment, he lowers his forehead to connect with the pine wood door. Taking a deep breath, he says a short prayer in his head. "Please let me keep them in my life this time." At the end of the sentence, he draws the cross necklace he wears to his lips and kisses it. The last time he had prayed this hard for something -- He swallows, missing Robin still.

In the living room, he's pleased to see Nat on their sofa, a single glass in her hand with an amber liquid while another tumblr filled with a clear beverage is in front of where he would normally sit. Kicking off his shoes, he settles facing her, his leg tucked under his hips.

"What's the topic tonight, love?"

"Something you said earlier," Nat begins. When he lifts an eyebrow curiously and waits silently, she continues talking. As he knew she would. "You said you regretted the financial conversation we had, and I want to understand why."

Ah yes. An important issue. Taking a sip of his drink, he waits as the heat from the liquor sears his esophagus and lands in his tummy with warmth. "I know it's important to you to be independent. Like with the car. And your condo. I know it comes from your past with the sp -- um, Duane."

"That's true." Nataley is wary. He can tell that she's unsure where the conversation is going.

"And I know that the disparity in our incomes makes you anxious."

"Also accurate."

His eyes bore into hers. "Let me ask you a hypothetical question." At her nod of agreement, he lays out the option that's been on his mind. "Let's pretend for a moment that my next album flops. That no one buys it. That critics pan it."

"Unlikely," she comments, "but I'll play along." Twisting on the couch, she plants both stockinged feet on the cushion, her knees drawn close to her chest.

"And let's say that maybe I've put out too much money. That the tour tanks and no one buys tickets, but I've overextended myself. I end up broke. No money left in the bank. Creditors at my door wanting their money."

"Mhm." Clearly Nat is skeptical.

"Just go with the premise, Nat," Harry pleads. "It's important."

"Okay, fine. I'll pretend that your music sucks, you've overextended yourself, and suddenly you're completely broke," she concedes.

"Good. Thank you." He sips his drink. "Now think carefully before you answer my next question. Don't just respond as an instinct."

"Okay..." She drags the word out into multiple syllables, and he really hopes the point hits home.

"Would you still love me?"

Nat opens her mouth, and he can see that she's about to reply in the affirmative. Noticing the moment at which she freezes and recalls his caution, Harry waits patiently.

After several seconds, she nods her head with great conviction. "Yes. I would still love you."

"Would you allow me to live in your house? Eat your food? Would you buy clothes for me?"

Eyes narrowing, she glares at him. "I know where you're going with this, and I don't like it."

"It's a thought experiment, Nat. Answer the questions. Please."

"Fine. Yes. I would let you live with us, and I would feed and clothe you."

"Why?" He asks, pressing his point, and praying he's not pushing too hard. "Because you know I'd pay you back the equivalent when I got back on my feet as a florist?"

The heat of her gaze burns him until she withers on her own. "Okay. Point made. Keeping our finances separate isn't a true partnership." The words are said with a pout, and he seeks to soothe her ego.

"Please know that I'm not saying your independence and personal freedom aren't important, Nataley. That's not at all what I mean." He reaches out and touches her foot, massaging it through the cotton material of her sock before placing his drink back on the table and coaxing both of her feet into his lap where he rubs them, applying deep pressure. "I think I want to start our married life as a true partnership where we both put our finances in one giant pot. Let's face it. You're going to be hyper vigilant about spending any of it on things we don't need. And you'll complain that I'm too generous in buying gifts and flowers for the crew."

She waves his words away. "No, you're right. I was being stubborn and selfish. It absolutely makes sense for us to combine our money." Withdrawing her feet from his hands, she sits up. "Wait. Does this mean you're planning on buying me that expensive car I drove today?"

"No." He rushes to reassure her. "Unless, of course, that's the one you want. I was thinking maybe you would drive several different cars over the coming months. Until we're married anyway. Then you could choose between them."

Tilting her head with curiosity, she picks up her bourbon before asking, "Why? Why wait?"

"Simple. Until we're married, our finances would be separate. When you choose a car, I want it to be based on the one you like best and the one that makes you feel safest. Not making money part of the equation helps ensure that your decision is based on the important stuff." He holds his breath. After all, she's said that it's almost a guarantee that she'll agree to marry him. But if she puts him off now, he'll know that her feelings aren't as irrefutable as she claimed.

Scrutinizing every inch of his face, Nat doesn't speak for several lifetimes. Taking a final swig of her beverage of choice, she sets the glass with its drained ice cubes onto the table. With one hand, she removes the necklace from under her shirt, twirling the ring around on the metal chain as she watches it circulate.

"Deal."

The single word makes him catch his breath. While he knows she means the car and not the marriage, it's a promising answer.

Tilting her body forward until she's perched on all fours on the sofa cushions, Nataley stalks towards him, the ring bouncing as she moves in his direction.

"Now...," she murmurs, "I would really like to talk about some of the other potential perks of being married to you."

"Oh?" Honestly, he is incapable of controlling the smirk that slides across his face as she approaches him.

"Mhm," Nat whispers as she climbs into his lap and straddles him. Her fingers reach for the top fastenings on his shirt before sliding the first one out of its corresponding buttonhole. "Yep. I assume that if we were married, we might share a bed every night?"

"That's a definite yes," Harry encourages, his eyes following her fingers before rebounding to her face. The flushed look on her face is promising, and he licks his lips.

"And sometimes I'll be in charge?"

Harry has to shift on the couch as her position has the desired effect on his body. "You can be in charge always if you want."

"Nope," she clarifies, "Partners, H. In everything." When her lips close over his, he metaphorically hands her the reins -- and the reign. Whatever she wants is hers for the taking.