“Morning,” Gene replies, looking over his shoulder at me.
“How’d you sleep, dear?” Helen asks, smiling at me over the top of the paper.
I flash my eyes at her, hoping she isn’t trying to catch me lying about sneaking out front the night before.
I mean, it’s not like I really went anywhere, but I don’t know if they would be upset about me having a midnight visitor.
“Soundly,” I reply, nodding my head. My lips are pulled into a smile, and I do my best to look convincing.
“Good.” Gene smiles. “A good night’s sleep is always important.”
I nod my head some more.
“You seemed tired last night,” Helen comments. “I’m glad you got some rest.”
“Me too.”
The timer on the toaster goes off, and Gene turns, withdrawing his toast.
“Care for some?” he asks, placing jam and butter on the kitchen table.
“That sounds great. Thanks,” I reply, putting water into the kettle. I turn it on to boil and grab the French press. “I’ll make us some coffee.”
Well, more so me coffee, but I know Helen will have a cup. When the kettle rings out, I pour grounds into the press, add in the water, and place it on the table to steep.
“Here’s your toast,” Gene says, setting a plate in front of me.
“Thank you,” I reply, reaching for the jam.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you that I got almond butter and bananas from the shop,” Helen says with excitement.
I drop the spoon back into the jam, turning my head toward her. “Really?” I ask, shocked.
Because she’s either psychic and as powerful as Mohammad previously suggested that moms are or …
“Noah had mentioned it.” She smiles, taking in my surprise.
My mind flits back to our conversation, about how Noah told me I didn’t need to worry about that stuff. To just ask.
“That was really thoughtful of him,” I admit. Because it was. But as the words come out of my mouth, all I can hear in my head is Mohammad’s voice scolding me. I push it away, focusing back on Helen and Gene.
“He’s not always the most obvious in showing he cares. But Noah can be quite thoughtful in his actions.” Helen smiles warmly.
“He’s always been about the small things,” Gene agrees, nodding.
The small things.
“That does sound like Noah,” I admit, trying to stop feeling so uncomfortable. “I think he probably is the most thoughtful person I know.”
“He’s good about figuring out what you need,” Gene replies, buttering his toast as I go to the pantry, pulling out the new jar of almond butter and one of the bananas, taking them back to the table.
“So, what’s on the agenda today?” Helen asks, stealing a bite of Gene’s toast.
The toast reminds me of the night I spent at Harry’s.
Lying in bed with Noah and Harry, eating and talking.
Waking up the next morning, wrapped up in Harry’s arms.
I instantly flush, thankful Helen isn’t as powerful as Mohammad believes and can’t read my mind.
“Well,” I say, clearing my throat, “I have a ton of homework and studying. Tomorrow is my Latin test, and our statistics project is due. And Tuesday, my art project.” I open up the jar of almond butter, sliding a spoonful across my toast.
“Were you taking Latin at your school in New York?” Gene asks.
I shake my head. “No. I was—am in French. So, I’m doing my best to follow along. Mohammad has actually been a big help.”
I cut up the banana, putting it on top of the almond butter, and drizzle some honey on it.
I take my first bite, my eyes practically rolling in pleasure at the deliciousness.
“Mohammad’s never been the most driven student. I’m glad he’s been able to help you,” Helen confides.
“Me too. I was also considering taking your advice. I think I might reach out to Naomi today. See if she might be interested in hanging out.”
“Oh,” Helen coos, rising up from the table, dropping her newspaper. She walks around, pulling me into a hug. “That’s wonderful,” she tells me, obviously having a proud mom moment.
I can’t help but smile and hug her back.
“Thanks,” I whisper, pulling away.
Gene’s looking at us, confused. He just sighs before his eyes land on the French press. He pours two cups of coffee, handing one to Helen and me, before clearing his plate.
“Have you seen Noah this morning?” he asks.
I nod. “Yep, I did.” Unfortunately. “I saw him in the bathroom. He is up and at least has brushed his teeth.”
“Probably playing those video games,” he mutters.
“He deserves a little down time, doesn’t he?” Helen asks, pointing her gaze at Gene.
I sit back, remaining quiet, not wanting to get involved.
“He does,” Gene concedes, his lips pulling into a straight line.
“Don’t worry. After breakfast, I’ll have him start on his homework, so you two can get to the pub this afternoon.” Helen smiles, and Gene’s face softens as he places his hands on her shoulders, kissing her head.
“What was that about?” I ask after Gene’s moved out of the kitchen.
“Oh,” Helen says, swatting her hand through the air, “it’s nothing. I think Gene just misses spending time with Noah. And with Mia gone, he’s probably more aware of it. They typically spend Sunday afternoon watching football at the pub.”
“That’s nice they’re able to spend time together,” I admit, my face softening.
“It’s very important,” Helen agrees. “Family is everything.”
“Helen, can I ask you about Harry?” I say, my mind flicking back to him.
Helen pulls in her cheeks, her gaze slipping down to her coffee in front of her. “What do you want to know?”
“What is going to be done about … it?”
“Did Harry tell you anything yesterday?” She sighs, and I sense she’s not sure what to say. She doesn’t want to betray Harry’s confidence, and I hope that’s not what I’m asking her to do.
“Things after Noah’s game yesterday were terrible, honestly. Harry told everyone he got into a fight. I was so upset about everything. I couldn’t stand to listen to him lie. But then we talked later, and he told me that he was sorry. That he didn’t know what else to do. He said that you two are going to talk to his mom.”
“That about covers it. Harry called last night when Gene and I were out. He called his mom yesterday and asked her to come home. He’s going to let me know when she’s there, so we can all talk.”
I nod, feeling surprised. Why didn’t Harry tell me last night that he had called his mom? Why am I finding out today from Helen?
But I guess the better question is, why am I asking Helen and not Harry?
I let out a heavy breath, realizing this is exactly why I didn’t want to be Harry’s girlfriend yet. We’re close, but there are always things I feel like I don’t know. Things that he hasn’t kept from me but hasn’t shared either.
“I’m glad you two made up. You seemed … worn down last night,” Helen adds, sensing my distress.