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Where had that come from? Claire must have given it to him, but when? She hadn’t offered one to Mia.
Mia straightened and picked up the frame. It was taken mere seconds before their kiss. She and Noah were facing each other, her right hand in his left, his other hand hidden in her hair. The longer Mia stared at the photo, the harder it was to breathe.
They looked...into each other. In love. Enamored, even. Mia remembered how nervous she’d felt in that moment—but you wouldn’t know it. Her eyes locked on his and the way her lips were parted just so—she looked desperate for him to close the distance between them.
And Noah? A tingle spread along the nape of her neck. His expression, normally restrained and serious, was bare and exposed, the longing on his face so apparent it was almost uncomfortable to look at.
Mia set the photo down and took a step back, though her gaze remained on the image. Was it real?
Or was he just a good actor?
His words from nine years ago echoed in her brain, so clear it was like he stood behind her now.I was drunk. It was a mistake. I just want to stay friends.
Of course he was acting.
He’d known Claire was taking photos. Knew they’d show them to people, and that they needed to convince others their marriage was authentic.
He’d always been one to plan ahead and consider everything. Handle things with poise and intentionality. Surely that’s what happened here—he’d made sure their secret would be safe.
He was just protecting her, like he always had.
She let out a shaky breath, nodding to herself. She finished her task and snuck back to her desk, giving him a bright smile when he passed by twenty minutes later.
On Wednesday morning, instead of finding everything on her desk turned upside down or a foghorn mounted underneath her seat, she was greeted by the most beautiful bouquet of flowers she’d ever seen. The architects had a group meeting every Wednesday, so she waited until she knew Noah would be back in his office before going to him.
He was at his desk, looking at his phone screen. He looked up when she came in, but didn’t smile.
She stopped a few feet from his desk. “Thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”
He tipped his head to the side. “Why are you nervous?”
“I’m not.”
“You’re fidgeting.”
She stilled her hands and forced her knee to stop moving. He didn’t say more, and her eyes dropped to the floor.
“I guess I just wasn’t expecting that,” she said.
He stood and walked toward her, stopping right in front of her. “Would you have preferred I fill your drawers with packing peanuts?”
“Yes.”
One corner of his mouth inched up.
“I was trying to keep things as normal as possible,” she added.
His teeth sawed across his bottom lip. “But they’re not. Everything’s different.” He lowered his voice. “At least, it needs to seem that way.”
She glanced out the window behind him and sighed. He was right. Even at home, he’d been more intentional about considering her. That first morning she’d assumed she’d be forcing black coffee down her throat, because that’s how Noah drank it. But when she’d opened the fridge to start the cinnamon rolls, right there in the door was an unopened container of her favorite coffee creamer.
She’d stared at it for so long he asked what she was looking for, and she’d almost burst into tears right then and there. He’d also arranged their electric toothbrushes just so on the bathroom counter, positioning the chargers at a perfect angle so they lined up side by side like little husband and wife appliances.
She needed to up her game, it seemed. She pointed to the frame on his desk. “I saw the new photo. Nice touch.”
“Yeah,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I thought they turned out pretty good.”
She pursed her lips and put her hand on his shoulder for balance, going up on her toes to fix his rogue lock of hair. “They? You have more?”
