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We’re not even a mile down the road from the farm when I glance back and see Rainey and Maggie are both asleep. In the beginning of the evening dusk, I see them mirroring each other’s positions in their booster seats and holding hands. I gaze over at Noah and all I feel in this moment is peace. Today had the potential to be an emotional bombshell and shatter me, but it feels like a small seam was pulled back together instead.
When we arrive at home, I abandon any attempt at waking Maggie and having her walk herself upstairs. Instead, I scoop my daughter into my arms and carry her. She’s growing fast—I never know when it will be the last time I’m able to carry her like this. I relish it and deposit her into the twin-size bed, pulling the covers over her, and planting a soft kiss on her forehead.
Noah waits for me at the bottom of the stairs. She’s turned on her puppy dog eyes and puts a pouty lip on full display. “Please?”
“Please what?” I ask.
“Can your old-man body carry Rainey upstairs, too?”
“Ouch,” I smack a hand against my chest. “I was planning to do it anyway, but now you’ve mentioned it, I feel a back spasm coming on.”
She swats at me, and I tell her I’m happy to carry Rainey upstairs.
Like every other red-blooded American, with our bellies engorged, we plant ourselves on the couch and settle in for a night of TV. I wait while Noah flips through to the next episode ofParks and Rec. I’ll never admit it to her, but I may likeParks and Recjust as much asThe Office. But, it’s definitely not better. Maybe it’s the company I enjoy.
Sitting side-by-side on the three-seater sofa with her feels natural. I reach my arm around her and pull her throw blanket from the armrest opposite of mine. I spread it out over her lap, and she tosses me an appreciative look.
“Cold? I can turn the gas logs on in the fireplace,” she offers.
I almost say there’s no need, but it’s Thanksgiving and I’m on the couch with someone I care about. Why the hell wouldn’t we have a roaring fire? I nod, and she flips a switch on the wall to ignite the logs and turn on the fireplace blower. When she settles back on the couch, she pulls her legs up behind herself, leaving our bodies closer than they were before she left.
Just as she’s about to hit play on the upcoming episode, I reach over and take the remote out of her hand. “Thank you for coming today.”
“You’re welcome. Your family is amazing.”
“They are,” I agree. Before I can stop the words from being uttered, and acknowledging as they leave my mouth they’re completely cheesy, I add, “You are too, Noah.”
She searches my face, her eyes full of surprise. “Are you . . . flirting with me?” She narrows her eyes.
There’s no hesitation in my reply. “No, I’m not flirting.”
Disappointment flashes through the green. “Then what are you doing?”
“I’m being honest.”
The words hang between us, and I wrap my arm around her shoulder to pull her toward me. She turns her body to face me, and I can’t wait another second. Both of my hands are on her face as I stare into her eyes, wordlessly pleading with her to come closer. I release her face as she shifts, moving onto my lap.
In all the times I’ve imagined kissing Noah, none of them ever began like this. I graze the pad of my thumb along her jawline, causing her to release a tiny gasp. The effect my touch has on her is immensely satisfying. A small voice tries to creep in and plant doubt that Noah doesn’t have the same feelings toward me. But her gasp leaves no doubt between us.
I run my hand up her cheek and rest it just under her ear. Her dark strands weave with my fingers as I gently grip the back of her head, refusing to break eye contact.
“Noah?” I can’t read her expression when I say her name, but when I follow it with, “Can I kiss you?” the biggest smile I’ve ever seen from her travels from cheek to cheek.
She doesn’t answer. She takes her own hands and pulls my head to hers until our lips crash. It’s not a gentle kiss. It’s the kiss of two people who’ve exercised restraint for so long it’s physically painful to wait another minute.
She releases her hands from the back of my head. But I run my hand, the one I’ve had on the back of her head this whole time, down her neck and tug on her bottom lip, deepening the kiss. I allow myself to explore every millimeter of her plush lips.
I bring both hands around her back and close the remaining distance between us. This is the kiss people watch rom-coms to see—the moment of victory when the main characters kiss for the first time. It makes viewers feel all the anticipation and expectation was worth the wait. If someone combined every first kiss in rom-com history into the ultimate medley, this moment of my lips melding with Noah’s would still beat every one of those scenes.
We’ll never have another first kiss, and I don’t want it to end. But I’m straining painfully against my jeans, and need to slow things down. There’s no need to rush with Noah. I want all of her, but not today. I want to know all of her secrets and memorize the essence of what makes her the woman in front of me, but there’s no hurry because I want to savor every single moment along the way.
Touching and kissing Noah feels like the most luxurious vacation I’ve ever experienced. With that thought, I am instantly gutted by my grief.
Chapter 28
Noah
LoganfoundouttheMonday after Thanksgiving he got the job. He was ecstatic and relieved. I swear his eyes glazed over just a little. I cried on his behalf when he told me his new company offered him a larger starting salary than he’d requested. If anyone deserves a break, it’s Logan.
