Page 87 of Finding Home

A perceptiveness that led him to play matchmaker. Clayton had told her how Noah encouraged him to go for it with Elle after she’d returned.

“When you said it was about time at the wedding when I turned you down, so I could dance with Clayton, you weren’t just talking about now were you?” She arched her right eyebrow.

A bashful smile quirked on Noah’s lips. “I’ve long suspected how Clayton felt about you. He wasn’t as subtle as he thought he was when he’d stare at you all the time in high school.”

It was strange to think that a man like Noah, who pushed his friends to chase the women they liked, was single. On paper and in person, Noah was rather perfect. Even if he wasn’t Elle’s perfect, she knew he was for someone.

“You know she’s pretty cute.”She hip-checked him, her stare following Summer and Liam as they walked into the bakery down the street.

“Oh my god, you sound like my mother,” he groaned.

“How dare you!” she said in mock dismay. “Seriously, though. How and why are you single? You’re good looking. You’re successful. You’re nice.”

Somehow Aunt Janet had possessed her. Elle was not responsible for the words coming out of her mouth. It was Janet, totally Janet.

“I am waiting for the right woman.” He shrugged.

“I can understand that.”

“Because you waited?”

She nodded.

“Until Clayton.”

“Until Clayton.” She smirked.

“Speaking of Clayton…” He let out a heavy breath. “You leave next week. Have you two talked about it? About what happens, then?”

Saying nothing, she looked away.

He sloshed a hard breath. “I don’t want to pop the bubble you two are in. I’m Team Clayton and Elle all the way, but you two should talk about what happens when you head back to California.” He placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “There doesn’t have to be an expiration date.” His soft voice almost mocked with its promise of what couldn’t be…or could it?

THIRTY-THREE

“Always resignation and acceptance. Always prudence and honour and duty. Elinor, where is your heart?”

~Jane Austen,Sense and Sensibility

This time next week, I’ll be gone.The thought pulsed a continuous ache in Elle’s chest. Each slap of her sneakers against the Greenway’s well-run path punctuated the knowledge that goodbye was coming. That this time next week, she’d not run with Clayton beside her.

All theif onlysmockingly danced inside her. If only she could flip the calendar back, to get a do-over of these weeks. If only she could freeze time, then she would have frozen the moment Clayton first kissed her. If only she could have pressed pause last night as Clayton asked if she was warm enough as he held her in his arms at the drive-in.

Even now, if she could stretch this run out for a few more minutes, a few more miles, she would. Anything to not say the words choking her.

“That was good.” Clayton sucked in a deep breath as they reached the pickup. “I am thinking omelets when we get home.”

Elle just nodded.

Clayton studied her and his smile faltered. “You’re quiet.”

“It’s Sunday,” she croaked. “This time next week, I’ll be gone.”

Clayton opened his mouth but shut it quickly, his face pinched.

“I’m mucking this up.”She scrubbed her hands down her face. “Clayton, I told you that I didn’t have a plan, but I did. Not about us, but about me. The plan was always to go back.”

“I thought you were ha…ha…happy here…with your family, our friends… You told Pete I make you blissfully happy.”

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