Page 54 of Coming Home

“A man who gives cute shoes like that as a gift is a keeper!” The hostess winked, snapping her fingers.

“He also cooks.” Nat grinned, winking back at the hostess.

“Now, you’re just being boastful,” the hostess teased. “Your server will be by shortly.”

Nat leaned over the table, whispering, “Imagine if I told her about the multiple orgasms you give.”

A ruddy flush crawled up his neck. “Speaking of telling people things…” His mouth closed as if considering his next words. “I spoke to Todd.”

Todd.She leaned back. In the haze of the little Noah/Nat bubble she’d lived in over the last twenty-four hours, she’d forgotten that Todd had caught them kissing. Well, more like he’d caught them making out like a pair of horny teenagers.

“The guy is a vault. For as much shit as he gives me, he’s loyal. He’ll say nothing. Although, he did threaten to kick my ass if I fuck this up,” Noah explained.

She shouldn’t smile when someone she cared about was threatened, but Nat did. It was weirdly heartwarming how Todd had both their backs. Of course he’d keep their secret. Above all he was a good friend to Noah. He’d also been good to Nat. That cocksure confidence that radiated off Todd reminded her of Evan and endeared the sometimes surly brewmaster to her.

“Since Todd knows,” he continued. “I wanted to let you know if you wanted to tell Summer, I am okay with that. I know we want to wait to tell people, but I want you to have someone to talk to about us. I know you like to craft things out, but I also know Summer has become one of your closest friends. I like the idea of you having someone to talk to if you want it.”

Noah’s thoughtfulness was like sinking into a hot bubble bath. The calming steam enfolded around her. The catalog of thelast week and the many years of Noah in her life flipped to how those watchful eyes not just saw but anticipated.

“You really do see me, don’t you?”

“You can’t help but see what sparkles.”

Heart thumping, she picked up the silverware setting, unwrapped the red cloth napkin, and tossed it at him. “That was cheesy.”

Catching the napkin, he smirked. “Youlovedit.”

She did. She fucking did.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“Seldom except in books do the dying utter memorable words….”~Louisa May Alcott,Little Women

There’d be nomaybeexpired yogurt consumed while charting today. The smell of leftover vegetarian lasagna from Saturday filled Nat’s office. Between bites of the cheesy pasta, she waged an internal debate on whether Noah was better at cooking or sexing her until her toes curled…it was a tie, and as she completed paperwork requests for patients, she reveled in being her again. After waking up this morning to find Noah brewing coffee and making avocado toast in her kitchen, she’d resolved to wear her new red shoes. Paired with a navy pinstripe pencil skirt and red blouse, she was embracing both Dr. Owens and Nat.

Why deny who you are to be what you are?Noah’s words from last night hummed within her.

“That smells delicious.” Mom appeared at the open office door, inhaling deeply. “Did Elle and Clayton leave you food for the week?”

Nat swiveled to face her mom. “Uh…” Her mouth closed as soon as it opened.

She’d almost said Noah made it for me, but then that may or may not lead to more questions. Clayton had asked Noah to check in on her. It wouldn’t be out of character for him to drop dinner off. Everyone knew the pinnacle of Nat’s culinary expertise was ordering takeout or making almost burnt frozen pizza. But what if Mom used her maternal superpowers and sniffed out that this wasn’t regular lasagna, but sex lasagna?

Ah! You’ve been quiet too long!

“Zambito’s,” she blurted.

Eyebrows knitted, her mom’s head tilted. “Zambito’s?”

“It’s a place on Lake Canandaigua. It’s Italian. I went there for dinner last night… By myself. Solo date,” she sputtered.

“Not with Duncan?”

She made a disgusted noise to cover her discomfort with the conversation. This was Mom. Lying to her had never been easy. At least this was true. “I’m not seeing him ever again.”

“Well, I’m glad you came to that conclusion yourself. I never liked Duncan. He had a weak handshake,” Mom said, combing her fingers through her long silvery-blonde strands.

Unlike Nat, everything about Mom was long and lean. If Nat was built like a compact car, then Mom was a stretch limo. Like Dad and Clayton, she was tall but with a slender frame. Silver shimmered along her blondish strands that hung loose past her shoulders. A regal approachability oozed from her mom. At sixty-two, she was still one of the most beautiful women in any room.

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