Andrew’s suite occupied a top floor corner with multiple rooms and sweeping city views. Noah’s adjoining room was larger than his family’s living room back in Chicago, with a bed that looked too perfect to sleep in and a bathroom lined in pale stone.
“This is too much,” Noah said quietly.
“It’s a hotel room,” Andrew replied, bouncing a now-cheerful Lily on his arm. “Try not to let it insult you by being impressed.”
That made Noah grin.
Later, when Lily was fed and sleeping again, Noah finally asked the question that had been waiting.
“Why are you doing this? You don’t know me.”
Andrew was warming another bottle in the kitchenette. He answered without looking up at first.
“Because I know talent when I see it. And because what you did on that plane wasn’t just kindness. It was judgment under pressure. Pattern recognition. Calm. Confidence. Compassion. Most people have one or two of those. You had all of them.”
Then he looked at Noah directly.
“And because I know what it’s like to need someone to open a door.”