Page 78 of When in Rome

“She’s wrong, you know?” I say, looking up at him with wide eyes. “We’re going to be great together.”

He tucks a blanket around me and kisses my forehead, lips lingering in a soft, delicate press. “I know.”

Noah climbs on the bed beside me. He sits upright against the headboard and retrieves a book from his side table, and then he does the most incredible thing: he reads aloud to me. All week I’ve asked him to and he said no. But now he is, and his voice is rumbly and comforting in the most perfect way.

My heart quivers and I press a kiss to the outside of his bicep. His eyes glide like a smooth caress over my face and my hair and my neck until he focuses his gaze on the book again and continues reading aloud from his boring, nonfiction biography. It’s wonderful. I wouldn’t change a thing.

We have so much to talk about, so many decisions to make, but instead, I let myself rest in this moment and lean my head back against the pillow, smiling as I run my fingers up and down his arm while he reads.

Maybe he won’t have to have a Gregory Peck face after all?

Chapter 35

Amelia

I step out of the bathroom and go into Noah’s room, where I find him lying on his side on the bed, a Scrabble board laid out in front of him. We’ve been playing a lot of it together over the last week, as well as having drinks at Hank’s last Friday, where I managed to not accidentally take a sleeping pill and pass out, a hearts tournament with his sisters on Saturday night at The Pie Shop, reading his terrifically boring book together in bed every night, and thennotreading together in bed at night.

After I fired Susan, Tommy called and said my car was fixed and ready to go. But I wasn’t ready yet, and neither was Noah, so we decided I would stay until I needed to leave to get ready for the tour. Unfortunately, that day is tomorrow. But I was given one more incredible week with Noah, his sisters, and this kooky town, and the memories from it will get me through the next nine months. My mom and I have also talked on the phone more. She’s going to meet me a few days before the start of the tour to help me pack and officially reconnect.

Things have been a little different with Will always hovering nearby when we go out, but it surprisingly hasn’t been thatstrange. Paparazzi lingered in town the first few days after the big incident, snapping pictures every time I went anywhere in the town; but soon, when they realized this sort of life is way too slow and boring to most people, they vanished. I’ve had my privacy back.

What I thought would be a problem for the town ended up being the highlight of their year. The moment a paparazzo was sighted, everyone transformed into peacocks, flaunting random talents and trying their best to get their picture taken. Mysteriously, Phil’s hardware sign has crept closer and closer to The Pie Shop each day, where photographers have been known to lurk outside, always advertising a new sale.

And no one seems to mind Will hanging around. Actually, everyone seems to love him. It’s a little unconventional that he’s become our third roommate and taken over the room I had been staying in, but he holes up in his SUV, surveying the driveway until late at night, and then comes in to sleep for a few hours before he’s out with the sun again. Mabel keeps buying him pies because she thinks he needs more calories to support all his muscle. I think she has a crush on him. When I come back after the tour like Noah and I have discussed, we’ll have to figure out a more permanent solution for security. But right now, Will is not in this house, and that’s all that matters.

“Thief,” Noah says when he notices what I’m wearing. I stole his hoodie again and I’ll never give it back. Underneath, I’m wearing a delicate pair of sleep shorts. Noah notices—or rather notices the lack of clothing on my legs. He smiles to himself and aims his gaze back to the board, dumping out the tiles before sitting up and perching on the edge of the bed.

“More Scrabble?” I ask, stepping between his legs. He puts his hands on the backs of my thighs and looks up at me with a gaze so reverent I feel outrageously beautiful even in my wet hair and his oversized hoodie.

“I just thought since it’s your last night in town, you might want to play one more time,” he says, and I don’t like the sudden sadness that statement has introduced to the conversation.

“Last nightfor a while,” I correct.

He smiles a little but it’s clear he’s still keeping a barrier around his heart. I’ve noticed he’s grown more quiet and pensive over the last two days.

Earlier tonight the town threw me a little goodbye party here at Noah’s house, and through the whole evening, he stayed in the shadows. I think he’s terrified that we won’t last. That history will repeat itself and I won’t be faithful to him. Poor thing doesn’t realize he’s never getting rid of me now.

His eyes snag on my lips. “Yeah,for a while.”

“You don’t believe I’ll come back?”

He hesitates to answer. “I want to. It’s just…”

“Hard for you to fully trust again. I know.” I intertwine my fingers in the back of his hair and he closes his eyes with a look of pain. I lean down and kiss his cheek. “I promise I’ll be back, Noah. And you know how you can believeme?”

“How?” he asks, with his eyes still closed.

I take this moment to study him. To memorize every centimeter of his face. Every wrinkle, eyelash, and curve of his mouth. “Because I found a home and a family with this town and I love them.” I drag in a breath and cup his jaw, angling his face up toward me. “And I love you.”

He opens his eyes, and his hands remain fixed on the backs of my legs. His face is tender astonishment, because we haven’t exchanged those words yet. But I can’t hold them in any longer.

And then Noah smiles. Full. Wide. Glorious smile. “I love you, too, Amelia.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” I say on an exhale while removing his hands from my legs, tugging his wrists up in the air, and thenpulling his shirt off. “I was beginning to sweat there for a second.” Not true. I’ve known he loves me even before he even knewit.

He laughs as I give his shirt one final yank over his head. Now he’s shirtless, just the way I like him. My eyes greedily roam the expanse of his tan, summertime body. Muscled shoulders and biceps. Broad chest and masculine veins winding down his forearms. Beautiful tattoo bursting with color and flowers and pie against his rib cage—a direct contrast to his grumpy unapproachable maleness. His blond hair is waving in slight disarray and the slash of his moody mouth hitches up in the corner as I ogle him.

He then watches as I remove my sweatshirt and reveal the silk spaghetti strap camisole underneath. It’s blush pink and matches my skin after my shower. I asked Claire (who is officially my new personal assistant) to bring me a few things from my house after I decided to stay here another week, and I want to kiss my past self for having the forethought to make sure this little number was among those items.

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