Page 53 of Coming Home

She tilted her head to the right and set the bag on the desk. “Customary? Noah Wilson, are you courting me?”

He grinned. “Perhaps.”

Opening the bag, she pulled out something wrapped in glittery silver tissue paper. “Oh my…” Her breath was stolen by a pair of ruby-red ballet flats. The same pair she’d eyed at one of the artisan tables at the farmer’s market.How did he know?

Noah stepped close again. The scent of pine wafted off him, enveloping her in his aroma. “After we kissed behind the WineDown and you left, I walked around downtown to clear my head. I wandered past the farmer’s market and saw these on one of the tables. They made me think of you.”

Her brow creased. “Why?”

“They sparkle.” Raising his hand, he caressed her cheek. “Just like you.”

“Phew, I thought you were going to say because they are obnoxious and childish.”

His brow wrinkled. “Why would you say that?”

She blew out a long breath. “It’s something Duncan said about me needing to act the part to be taken seriously. He talked about dressing the part, which made me rethink my entire wardrobe. Well, my entire self.” She ran her fingers along the sparkled sequins lining the shoes. “In Boston, I was Dr. Owens. Here I’m Dr. Owens’ daughter.”

“Why do you have to be one or the other?”

Her lips pursed. “Because people don’t take me seriously when they only see me as Dr. Owens’ daughter.”

“That’s bullshit.” He raised his right hand as she opened her mouth. “Not what you said nor how you feel, but that people are so narrowminded that they don’t see that you can be both. Youcanbe both a badass doctor and an amazing daughter. You can wear both a lab coat and sparkly shoes. That you can both be serious and goofy.”

Nat nodded. An all-consuming warmth spread through her. Unlike Duncan, Noah didn’t tell her to be something she wasn’t, to play a part. He didn’t tell her to do anything, just talked about the failing of others to see her. In his eyes she wasn’t a square peg that needed to be cut and sanded to fit into a round hole. To him, it wasn’t about her changing to fit, but them making space for her as she was.

“I don’t see why you have to deny who you are to be what you are,” he said, skating the pads of his fingers across her hands clenched around the ballet flats.

Her eyes shifted to the shoes. “I like who I am.”

“I like who you are too…very much.” He rested his hands on her waist.

In Noah’s presence, she was perfect and could face any storm, but she knew once away from this little bubble they’d created those self-doubts would re-emerge. They had been so loud since coming home. She just needed to learn how to drown them out on her own.

“How do I get people to take me seriously, though?” It was one thing to embrace who she was but another thing to get others to do the same.

“By being who you are…who you really are. Not what other people expect you to be. Not some pretend role that fucking Duncan thinks you should play.” His nostrils flared.

“Fuck them.” She smiled, repeating his words from the previous week.

It wasn’t just his belief in her that bolstered her but the reminder of who she was…of who she’d been before coming home. In Boston, Nat had tapped into her feisty and sometimes goofy core self. Seedlings of her take-no-prisoners spunkiness had blossomed in undergrad and medical school. Evan used to tease her it was her bratty little sister power. Then, he’d wrap his arms around her shoulders, telling her it was just that she was a badass and that she should never forget it.

“Damn right… Fuck them.” Noah dipped his head, sealing his mouth to hers.

After a thorough kissing session, Nat slipped on the ruby-red shoes. After all, gifts this cute were meant to be worn. Linking their fingers, they left for their date.

For the next forty minutes, she settled fully into just being with Noah. Between effortless conversation and his periodic squeezes of her knee from across the console, the daydream quality of being with him dissolved to a rightness. As they walked into Zambito’s, an Italian restaurant nestled against the lakeshore, her hand rested so nicely in his like it was always meant to be there.

The hostess led them to a large wraparound deck. Olive trees in red clay pots lined the white lattice fence bordering the outdoor dining area. Dark walnut tables, bedecked with a single white lily, offered a perfect view of Lake Canandaigua’s calm waters. String lights crisscrossed the above lattice awning, and Nat knew they’d be magical once they turned on at dusk. A soft orangey-purple hue crawled across the sky, whispering the coming of sunset.

“This place is adorable,” she gushed, taking her seat as Noah held her chair out for her.

“I take zero credit,” he chuckled, pushing in her chair.

“I’ll take all the credit,” the hostess boasted, handing Nat a menu. “Speaking of adorable, those shoes are on point.” She gestured to Nat’s feet.

“They were a gift.” Nat kicked her right leg out, wiggling her foot in the sassy shoe. It wasn’t that the shoes had been a gift from Noah, but what they represented. The petite ruby red shoe covered in sparkles was unapologetically Nat. At least who she wanted to be…to be her again. To let go of the self-doubt that had slithered in since coming home.

“Now,thatI can take credit for.” A playful smugness curved his lips.

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