I glanced over at her. “Ifyouare my level of sanity, I’m in a load oftrouble.”
“Nah”—she looked over my shoulder—“that one’s why you’re in a load oftrouble.”
I turned around to see Noah walking up to the porch with the basket tucked under his tattooed arm. No shirt. Abs on full display. In an effort to maintain a shred of dignity, I fought the smile tearing at mylips.
He dropped the basket filled with green beans onto the bottom step, then rubbed the sweat from his brow with his forearm. “You busy tonight?” heasked.
I remembered kissing him the night before, the way the stubble on his face made my lips burn, the way my stomach clenched when he settled between my thighs. “Maybe…”
“You’renot.”
Ishrugged.
“I told my grandma I’d bring you over fordinner.”
“How very presumptuous of you,” Isaid.
“Maybe… I’ll be here around six.” Those dimples popped before he walked back out to thefield.
“That easy, huh?” Meg asked. “I sit here and guilt you into hanging out with me, and Mr. Fucking Dimples just waltzes up and says he’ll pick you up at six.” She shook her head. “Unbelievable.”
______
For some reason, I was nervous about going to dinner at his grandma’s. I tried on four different outfits. A sundress. A maxi dress—too dressy. Shorts that were too short. I finally decided on a pair of jeans, a tank top, and myConverse.
When I came downstairs, Daddy was in the kitchen, shoving his wallet in his backpocket.
“Where are yougoing?”
“Church,” hesaid.
God, it was Sunday night, wasn’tit?
“Oh…” I couldn’t leaveMomma.
Daddy glanced at me. “You got plans, babygirl?”
“I was just going todinner.”
“Good, it’s good for you to get out.” He smiled and grabbed his keys from thecounter.
“Maybe Ishouldn’t…”
“You are not staying here on my account!” Momma’s voice came from the front room, and Daddy arched his brow before kissing my forehead and making his way down thehall.
I heard him tell Momma goodbye before the front door opened and closed. “You better go do whatever it was you were gonna do,” Momma said before I heard the beginning notes of “Für Elise”. I walked down the hall, holding onto the doorframe as I peeked around the corner into the formal living room. Momma sat proudly at the piano, her fingers gliding effortlessly over the keys. She shook her head. “I’mfine.”
I went and sat next to her like I used to do as a littlegirl.
“Hannah…” The music stopped, and she dropped her hands to her lap. “I feel fine. Please don’t make me feelguilty.”
Guilty? How could I make her feel guilty?“I just want to make sure someone’s here if you needthem.”
“Your brother’s in hisroom.”
“With his headphones in orasleep.”
“I’m alright today.” She squeezed my hand. “I know you love me, and I love you too, which is why I want you to live your life.Okay?”