Chapter 50 UNWANTED VISITOR
“Mom, I can't find the blue crayon?”
Vivienne looked up from her laptop where she'd been working for the past two hours. Noah sat on his bed, coloring book spread across his lap, tongue poking out as he concentrated. His fever had finally eased sometime during the night, and this morning he’d woken up asking for pancakes, which was a sure sign he was more himself.
“It’s behind you, baby.” She pointed to the crayon box that had spilled half its contents across his Spider-Man comforter.
“Oh.” He grabbed it, already absorbed back in his masterpiece.
Rebecca appeared in the doorway with a tray. “Dinner’s ready.”
“Thank you Rebecca. You’re a lifesaver,” Vivienne said, making space on Noah’s nightstand. The apartment had become their little sanctuary over the past two days. It had just been the three of them, movie marathons, and Rebecca's delicious soup.
Alexander had suspended the motion capture sessions until Monday, when she’d resume fully. While the team was working on raw footage from the successful shoot they’d managed to capture, he’d texted yesterday, telling her to take all the time she needed.
She’d read that message more times than needed, searching for hidden meaning in the simple words.
The doorbell rang.
Rebecca straightened up. “You expecting someone?”
“Not really.” Vivienne shook her head absently, helping Noah sit up straighter so he could eat.
“I’ll go check who it is,” Rebecca said, then disappeared.
“Ms. Cross?” Vivienne finally heard Rebecca call from the hallway. “It's for you.”
“Who is it?” she called back. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Marcus had visited yesterday and hadn’t mentioned coming back today. It would be strange for her friends to show up unannounced, and neither of them knew about Noah being sick. So who could it be?
She stood, dragging her oversized sweater to cover most of her thighs. She’d been in the same clothes since yesterday and padded down the hallway in her socks.
Rebecca stood by the open door. And behind her, filling the doorway, was Alexander Hunt.
He wore dark jeans paired with a gray henley and a black jacket. He looked normal. Approachable. And he was holding a large paper bag from Marcello’s, one of the most expensive Italian restaurants in Manhattan, alongside a gift bag decorated with cartoon dinosaurs.
“Alexand… Mr. Hunt.” Vivienne rushed forward, aware of Rebecca’s curious stare. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to check on you and Noah.” His eyes were glued to her face with genuine concern. “You mentioned strep? How is he doing now?”
How did he know where she lived? She tried to remember if she’d ever told him. The studio wasn’t far from here, maybe a few minutes, but her address shouldn’t be…
“I got your address from your contract file,” he said quickly, like he could read her mind. “I’m sorry if that’s crossing a line. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Mom?” Noah’s voice drifted from his bedroom. “Who’s it?”
Alexander’s head turned automatically toward the sound, a bright smile adorning his face. “Is that Noah? I’d love to say hi.”
“No.” The word came out louder than she intended. Vivienne stepped into the doorway, effectively blocking his view into the apartment. “That’s really not necessary. Thank you for coming, but…”
Alexander pulled back slightly, confusion clouding his features. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. I thought…” He trailed off, clearly confused by her reaction. “Why can’t I say hi? I just wanted to see how he’s feeling. Am I intruding?”
“You’re not intruding,” Vivienne said quickly, hating the hurt in his voice. “It’s just… he’s still contagious. I wouldn’t want you to get sick.”
It was a terrible lie. Strep wasn’t contagious after twenty-four hours of antibiotics.
Alexander stood still, then nodded slowly. “Right. Of course.” He held out the bags. “These are for Noah. Just some soup from Marcello’s, chicken pastina. It’s good for sore throats. And some things to keep him entertained while he recovers.”
Vivienne took the bags. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“I wanted to.” His voice was soft. “You haven’t been taking care of yourself, Ms. Cross. You look exhausted.”
Alexander, ever so attentive. Of course he noticed her unwashed hair piled in a messy bun and the coffee stain on her sweater from this morning.
She felt seen, even though she was standing in front of Alexander Hunt in her worst state while he looked infuriatingly perfect in casual clothes.
“I’ll see you Monday?” he asked.
“Monday,” she confirmed.
He waited a few more seconds, as if wanting to say more, then nodded and turned toward the stairs. Vivienne watched him go, fighting the urge to call him back, or to invite him in and let him meet his son.
She shut the door instead.
When she turned around, Rebecca was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in a perfect arch of judgment.
“Don’t,” Vivienne warned.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re thinking very loudly.”
Rebecca pushed off the wall. “I don’t mean to sound rude. And I don’t know who that man is, but he just brought you soup from Marcello’s. Do you know how expensive that place is? And he looked genuinely worried about Noah.” She paused. “Why were you so weird?”
“I wasn’t weird.”
“You absolutely were weird. You practically shoved him out the door.” Rebecca wouldn’t give up. “What’s going on? Or is he bothering you? Because if he’s making you uncomfortable…”
“No! No, it’s nothing like that.” Vivienne set the bags on the kitchen counter, avoiding Rebecca’s gaze. “He’s just… he’s my boss. It’s inappropriate for him to show up at my apartment.”
“He didn’t seem like just your boss just now. He seemed like someone who cares.”
“Well, he shouldn’t.” The words came out bitter. “We’re colleagues. That’s all.”
Rebecca was quiet for a moment. “You know what I think?”
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“I think you like him. And that terrifies you.”
“Rebecca...”
“And I think he likes you too. Which terrifies you even more.”
Vivienne’s hands stilled on the paper bag. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Maybe not.” Rebecca grabbed her jacket from the coat rack. “But I know what I saw. And that man didn’t just bring soup to a colleague.” She headed for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Ms. Cross.”
After Rebecca left, Vivienne stood alone in the kitchen, staring at the bags Alexander had brought. The soup was still warm. She could smell the rich, comforting aroma of chicken and herbs.
Slowly, she opened the gift bag.
Inside was a hardcover book: D’Aulaires’ Book of Greek Myths. The cover was beautiful, illustrated with gods and heroes in vibrant colors. Tucked beside it was a 500-piece puzzle showing the Parthenon at sunset, and a smaller book titled Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief.
At the bottom of the bag, a handwritten note on thick cardstock:
“For Noah. Hope this helps the boring sick days go faster. Greek mythology is full of great stories about brave heroes just like you. Get well soon.
A.H.”
Vivienne’s vision blurred. Her fingers traced the careful handwriting, the expensive paper, and the thought behind every item.
If he only knew the truth.