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“He came to my desk this morning, bursting with gossip I didn’t believe at first,” she said. “But you just confirmed it.”
Noah resisted the urge to do something with his hands, like run them through his hair or grip the armrests. He realized where she might go with this, yet somehow hoped he was wrong. “I’m not sure I like hearing my marriage referred to as rumor, and I definitely don’t like it being called gossip.”
Julia’s expression bordered on sympathetic. “Excuse my word choice, but that’s not the important part. David’s convinced he heard you and Mia talking a couple weeks ago. Said he came in early that day, and you two showed up and clearly thought you were alone. He claims you only got married so she can keep her insurance.”
Was the storm raging inside him visible? “What? That’s not true—”
She held up a hand. “I don’t need to know, Noah. I really don’t. I consider you a friend, and I’ve seen how you look at her. It’s why I gave up on you within weeks of meeting her. I believe you wanted to marry her. But David doesn’t, and we both know he can be kind of an asshole. I wanted to warn you and tell you to be careful. With your dad’s retirement announcement, everyone knows positions will shift. If he thinks he found something to use against you...”
“Thank you. But I—we—have nothing to hide.”
Her mouth flattened into a line, but she nodded and stood. “Congratulations, then.” She walked to the door and tossed one more comment over her shoulder before she left. “Can I give you one word of advice?”
He gave a terse nod.
“David is ruthless when he wants something. Do yourself a favor and don’t underestimate him.”
7
On Tuesday, Mia had to wait until Noah stepped out for lunch before she could hide printed photos of Nicolas Cage in every drawer of his desk. He’d seemed quiet last night—which for Noah, essentially meant silent—and she figured their whole situation was putting him out of sorts. It certainly was for her. It would take time for them to settle into a new routine, but in an attempt to keep things as normal as possible, she resorted to their usual antics.
Hopefully it would make him smile.
She was closing the filing drawer to the left of his chair when she looked up and nearly dropped the pile of papers.
Straight ahead, angled just right to be visible from his desk chair, was a photo of her and Noah.
On their wedding day.
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.”
