Page 32 of Coming Home

“Did it eraseallpast kisses?” Summer asked with a cheeky grin.

Nat took a long drink of her latte.

“So, that’s a no.”

She sighed. “It was a good kiss. It just… It just didn’t erase an almost kiss.”

Summer’s forehead wrinkled. “With whom?”

She looked around. There were too many people. Grabbing Summer’s arm, she dragged her to a green iron bench on the sidewalk outside the farmer’s market. It was far enough away from the clusters of perusing patrons to not be overheard but within sight for Carmen and Liam to find them.

“Noah and I almost kissed,” she whispered.

“What!”

Nat’s eyes narrowed, and she motioned around them. “Inside voice, please.”

“Sorry.” Her tone was soft, but her eyes were loud with giddy excitement. “When did this happen?”

“Ten years ago.”

“Ten. Years. Ago.” Summer repeated with deliberate slowness.

“It was after Evan died. It was the night of the funeral. It was…” A tremor broke loose in her voice. “…It was a lot. Mom was a mess. Dad was trying to take care of her. Clayton was distant. I felt so alone.”

Summer threaded their fingers. “And Noah was there for you?”

“Yeah.” She smiled through a long sigh. “He’d found me crying in the gazebo in the backyard. I was alone. He held me for the longest time. Just telling me to let it out. That he was there. That he had me. After there were no more tears, he kissed my temple. My head tilted up, and there was this moment. Like when you hold two magnets close enough to pull to one another but not connect. Then Clayton came outside, and Noah backed away.”

“Did you two ever discuss this?”

Nat shook her head.

“Nat.” She pushed out a disappointed but understanding breath.

“Mom!” Liam bounded down the street.

Nat and Summer’s heads jerked toward his happy squeal. Liam skipped alongside Noah, who wore an amused grin. Noah and Clayton had befriended the little boy over the last year, taking him fishing, to the library, or for play dates with Fitz and Lizzie.

“What? Is he like Beetlejuice?” Nat muttered under her breath.

“You didn’t even have to say his name three times,” Summer said through a fixed smile. “You, okay?”

“Yup.”

“Hey, baby. How was story hour?” Summer knelt, opening her arms in greeting.

“Mathew dressed up like a bear,” he chirped.

Summer cocked her face to Noah.

“The story was about a bear. You know Mathew, he loves a costume.” Noah grinned, pushing his hands into the pockets of his dark blue jeans.

Oh, goddess! Stop looking at how those jeans caress his muscular legs.Nat averted her gaze.

“Speaking of costume. Little Francisco needed an outfit change, so I volunteered to walk my man here to meet you ladies,” he said, referring to Carmen and Mathew’s nine-month-old son.

“He pooped his pants,” Liam whispered.

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