Page 48 of Unspoken Love

Then she changed the subject and told her how she and Nate had explored the hidden tunnel and how Max and Juliette were both excited and surprised about the secret passages in their home.

She was halfway through her meal of tomato bisque and chicken salad when she noticed a man at the table across the room glaring at them. His brow was furrowed, and he was whispering to the woman sitting with him while motioning in their direction.

She tried to ignore it—but just then he spoke up. Loudly.

“You know, it’s rude to wave your hands around in public like that. Distracting as hell when people are trying to eat.”

Her mom’s didn’t even flinch. She calmly set her spoon down and turned toward him. “We’re using American Sign Language. My daughter is deaf.”

The man scoffed. “Yeah, well, it’s obnoxious. It looks like you’re arguing. It’s making people uncomfortable.”

Faye’s blood turned to fire.

She lifted her hands deliberately and signed: “Uncomfortable? You’re sitting ten feet away. Maybe look at your own plate.”

Her mom signed slowly: “Or leave. That’s also an option.”

They both smiled.

The woman with the man shifted awkwardly in her seat, clearly mortified.

Faye could feel a few others watching now, unsure if this was a performance by the man to get attention or if he was really upset. But she didn’t care. For once, she didn’t want to shrink away from confrontation.

The waiter appeared a moment later. “Is there a problem?”

Her mom smiled sweetly. “No problem at all. Just educating the public.”

The man muttered something under his breath and threw a few bills on his table before storming out, dragging his poor companion with him.

Faye sat back in her chair, heart racing, her stomach turning.

Her mom reached over, squeezed her hand again.

“I’m proud of you. You didn’t shrink, or run away,” she whispered aloud this time.

Faye swallowed and blinked back the sudden sting in her eyes. How many years had she hidden who she was? The old Faye would have stopped using sing language because it irritated someone else. She would have apologized or, worse, like her mother said, run away.

“No,” she said quietly. “Not this time.”

And she wouldn’t again, she promised herself. She was better than that. She deserved more.

Four hours later, after a quick shopping spree with her mom, Faye was back in Pride. Her tires crunched over the gravel as she pulled into Nate’s driveway, and her chest tightened with something warm and weightless at the same time. His truck was parked crookedly near the front of the house along with a couple other work trucks. The front door stood wide open and music drifted out of it—classic rock, of course. A Zeppelin song that she could barely hear but recognized from the thrum against her chest.

She climbed out of her car and headed inside, brushing wind-tangled hair from her face.

The scent of sawdust, pine, and something faintly citrus greeted her before she even reached the kitchen. When she rounded the corner, her heart did a little somersault.

Nate was at the new kitchen island, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly damp with sweat, balancing a gleaming white farmhouse sink into place. The island beneath it was rustic oak, the wood warm and beautifully finished. All the cabinets were installed now, clean white with beautiful delicate iron hardware. The space looked like something out of a magazine—if that magazine happened to also feature hot, sexy carpenters.

“Looks like you’ve been busy,” she said, leaning against the doorframe.

Nate looked up and grinned. “Hey, you’re back! I wasn’t expecting you until later tonight.”

“I left early.” She stepped further into the room. “Traffic was light, and I needed a distraction.”

“You came to the right place. Plumbing chaos and power tools galore.”

She glanced around and noticed Parker crouched near the floor in the corner, running new electrical wires up through the side of the island. Two other guys she vaguely remembered seeing in the Brew-Ha-Ha were working on the plumbing beneath the cabinets.