Page 34 of Saved By Two

Noah grabs my hand and squeezes. “Yeah, I agree, but honestly, because she was with Curtis, he probably thinks she’s okay, if that makes sense.”

I lean in and give him a chaste kiss. “Yeah, yeah, I know, and you’re always the voice of reason.”

It’s like an itch I can’t scratch—wanting to go and pay this guy a visit, but I made a promise to Noah. It doesn’t mean he’ll be getting away with it scot-free. And Noah knows this too; we’re biding our time now.

“Can you let Jessica know dinner is ready?”

The image of how tired she looked, even asleep, makes me pause. “Maybe we should let her sleep. We can cover her dinner and heat it when she wakes up.”

He nods. “You’ve noticed how exhausted she is, too?”

“Yeah, and I’ve heard her moving around in the middle of the night. You know what a light sleeper I am, but I figured it's how she copes.”

I watch as he dishes up three plates, covering hers with tin foil.

“Do you think we should say something?” he asks, walking over with our plates of creamy chicken carbonara.

Pulling out Noah’s chair first, I take both plates from him so he can sit, placing them on the placemats before I join him.

“No, let’s wait it out a little longer. I might be a little more worried if she wasn’t sleeping during the day.”

Picking up his glass, he holds it up, and I grab mine. We chink them together as we both say cheers and take a sip.

“Do you think she’s afraid she’ll have nightmares like she did on the first night?”

I swirl some of the pasta around my fork. “Maybe, I just want her to feel like she has a semblance of control. Though I’m sure under the circumstance she feels differently—her entire life has been turned upside down.”

Light footfall catches my attention, and sure enough, Jessica pads into the room, her hair in a messy bun on the top of her head. She’s wearing a pair of leggings and one of Noah’s t-shirts.

“Hey, sweet girl. We didn’t want to wake you. Are you hungry?” he asks.

“Yeah, I can get it,” she says, her eyes darting towards the kitchen counter.

Noah goes to push his chair back, but I put my hand on his shoulder.

“No, you eat,” I say, moving to my feet. “You sit, Jessica. I’ll get it.”

She moves around the table and takes the seat opposite me and closest to Noah.

I uncover the plate and, satisfied it’s still warm enough, bring it to the table and place it in front of her. “What did you want to drink?” I ask and notice her eyes dart to the bottle of wine and then to her plate.

“You can have a small glass if you want to, Jessica. You’re an adult.”

Any injury to her vocal cords seems to be okay.

“Yes, I’ll have some wine then, please,” she says, her voice small.

Noah doesn’t hesitate as he pours her a glass and then fills a small tumbler with some water for her.

“Thank you.” She smiles genuinely, not forced like the others I’ve seen her use. “Another one of my favourites,” she says, eyeing the pasta.

“Probably not as good as Maggie’s macaroni and cheese,” Noah says more for my benefit than hers, I’m sure.

“Please say you saved me some?” I ask.

Noah laughs. “Of course.”

“Thank you. And just for the record, your carbonara is just as good as Maggie’s.”

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