“Your family is very nice,” I say after a moment. “I don’t know why you were so nervous.”
Noah shrugs slightly. “It’s just…awkward, I guess. I’ve never done this before.”
“Brought a fake boyfriend home?” I tease.
“Brought any boyfriend home,” he says.
I think about that for a moment. “Did you want to?” I ask. “With Rick, I mean.”
Noah is quiet for a second before answering.
“I wanted everything with him,” he says finally. “To stop hiding. Get married. Have kids.” There’s no bitterness in his voice, just a quiet sadness. “Turns out we weren’t exactly on the same page.”
“That’s rough,” I say quietly.
“Yeah. Took me a while to figure that out.”
I nod. Quinn and I weren’t on the same page either. Honestly, I don’t think we were even in the same book.
For a while neither of us says anything. The path narrows, forcing our horse closer to the water’s edge. A breeze ripples across the lake, sending small waves lapping against the shore.
“So tell me about your job at the animal rescue,” I say after a few minutes. “What exactly does a fundraising coordinator do?”
Noah perks up at the question. “I organize events, manage donations—stuff like that. Basically I do anything that brings in money to keep the place running.” His voice warms as he talks. “We work with all kinds of animals, but mostly cats and dogs. Last year we placed over four hundred of them in homes.”
“That’s impressive.”
He shrugs. “It’s not exactly glamorous. My salary barely covers rent, and sometimes I spend days writing grant proposals that get rejected. But then you see an animal get adopted by someone who’s going to love them forever, and it makes all the annoying parts feel worth it.”
I smile, oddly moved by the quiet pride in his voice. “Sounds like you really love it.”
“I do. I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.” He pauses, then glances back at me. “Do you like animals? I saw the dachshund tattoo on your chest. I was wondering about it.”
My hands tighten slightly on his hips. “That was my dog, Pickle,” I say. “She died three years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” Noah says softly. “What happened?”
“Kidney failure,” I say. “She was sixteen. A pretty good run for a dachshund.”
“It is,” Noah says quietly. “You must miss her, though.”
“I miss her like hell,” I admit. “I’ve thought about getting another dog, but I keep putting it off.”
“Why?”
“Time, mostly. I work long hours. It wouldn’t be fair to leave a dog alone that much.”
“That makes sense.” He shifts slightly in the saddle. “I always wanted a dog.”
“Why don’t you have one?” I ask. “Working at a rescue and not having any pets feels like grounds for termination.”
Noah smirks.
“I almost did,” he says. “When I was dating Rick. We talked about maybe finally moving in and getting one together. But after he broke up with me, for a while it was hard to take care of myself, let alone another living thing.” He sighs. “Now I just keep putting it off. Plus, the walls in our building are shit. I’m pretty sure the neighbors would complain about barking.”
“I wouldn’t complain,” I say.
He glances back at me, a small smile forming. “No?”
