Page 89 of Red Zone Realizations
I push back from our embrace. “What?”
“Permanently,” Noah clarifies. “Move in with me.”
“It’s okay. I chose to put my house up. I’ll find a new place.”
“I don’t want you to.”
“This is awful fast, isn’t it?”
He gives me a quizzical look. “And leaving Houston with me wasn’t? Where were you going to live in Chicago?” I purse my lips. He’s got a point there. “I want you to stay. I love having you in my house. I love the way the bathroom smells like your body wash after you shower. I love the way your feet feel in my lap when you’re trying to get me to rub them. I love the way your hand feels in mine when you hold it to fall asleep. I’m going to love hearing the happy squeaks of the girls every morning when they get breakfast.” His gaze sears mine, overflowing with emotion. “I love you, Audrey, all of you.”
I think I’d be lying if I said that I was shocked to hear it. You don’t invite your girlfriend to move to another state with you if you’re just infatuated with her, but I didn’t think the universe would throw us this bone. To be here, in Houston, where we both grew up, with our families—however dysfunctional they may be. Together.
“I love you too.” I pull him back to me. The physical need to express my love is taking over my mind. A slow, emotional kiss, slowly burns, needing.
Noah reaches behind me and swipes a big hand across the kitchen island, knocking the glove box and paper towels aside. He grabs me by the hips and lifts me on to the counter. I peel off my cleaning gloves with a quick snap. Noah kisses me, guiding me back to lie flat. I flinch against the cold of the granite. We look into each other’s eyes as we make love on the counter. This feels like the final solidification of us. Cementing our admissions of love with the combination of our bodies.
While it feels like goodbye to this house.
It feels more like hello to our future.
Epilogue
AUDREY
SIX MONTHS LATER
I slash an imaginary tick mark in the air. “That’s number ten on the gelato counter.”
“Is coffee still your favorite flavor?” Noah licks his pistachio one. He’s gotten so tan in the six days we’ve been in Italy. The sun barely kisses his skin and it darkens. It’s so unfair.
“I haven’t tried any other ones, and I don’t plan on it.”
“Of course you don’t. You like what you like.”
“Exactly. No need to fix what’s not broken.”
We settle into the tiny bistro chairs outside of the gelato shop. Every single part of Tuscany has been nothing short of amazing. When we first walked out the back door of our private villa and saw the hills rolling over the horizon, I couldn’t help but think how ugly it makes Texas look in comparison.
Who was I to say no to Noah when he suggested a spontaneous vacation? We had a couple weeks left in his off-season, and I had a light client load, so off we went. I’m sure the girls are very happy with Nicole for a week.
“I can’t believe it’s our last night already. I feel like I blinked and it’s time to go home.” I watch as people pass by us. A steady mix of tourists and locals.
“I can’t say I’m not ready for American air conditioning again. I’ll sleep so much better.”
I sigh. “One more dinner. Saved the best for last with pasta making.”
“For sure.” Noah’s hair is wind swept from a day of walking the cobblestone streets. “Colin recommended this chef to me, so I’m sure he’s good.”
I lick the last of my gelato off the tiny spoon and stack my cup in his. “Ready?”
This time he takes a deep breath. “I guess.” I laugh at his reluctance to walking back up the steep hill that our villa rests on.
I punch his arm. “Come on, football player. You should be in better shape than that.”
He holds his hands up in surrender. “Whoa, whoa. Excuse me for being on break.”
I stand, straightening my pale pink summer dress, and collect the trash. When I come back, Noah takes my hand in his and we start the trek. We take it slowly. Stopping to look at the flowers blooming on a trellis outside of the local bakery. The warm breeze flows through my hair and cools my neck in the heat. “Do you think we have time for a dip in the pool before dinner?”
