Page 110 of The Girl I Once Loved

And that’s when it hits me.

His mother’s birthday is on the twenty-sixth of September.

"Go,” I suddenly hear myself say. “Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll make sure to keep her company.”

“You will?” Noah asks, his gaze filled with so much love for me that even our parents have to look away, so they don’t feel like they are intruding in our moment.

“Hmm.” I nod.

“Thank you,” he whispers back.

Both our parents still have their heads hung low when Noah quickly diverts the conversation back to his father so they can go over all the logistics and plans for the expedition. Mom and I leave them to it, knowing that everything they are about to talk about will go over our heads.

While Mom goes into the kitchen to fix us dinner, I walk back upstairs to finish the chapter I’m currently writing. Ironic that it’s the one where I found a heart-stricken Noah all alone in a cemetery, rain pouring down his face to camouflage his tears. It takes me a few hours to finish the chapter as my own tears blur my vision, hurting for the boy who loved his mother so much that he promised he’d never leave her alone on her birthday. Not even after her soul parted from this earth.

“Hey,” Noah calls out, poking his head in the door. “Is it safe to come in, or are you in the zone?”

I love how he cares enough to ask, not wanting to interrupt my writing process in any way.

“I’m good.” I wipe my eyes while closing the laptop.

“You sure, little stalker?" he drawls, walking up to my seated form and tilting my head back with his gentle grip on my chin. “Your eyes look awfully red and puffy for someone who says she’s all good.”

“Tears are part of the process of writing. You can’t help but be invested in the characters. They hold a little piece of you inside them. And let’s just say, these characters' lives hit a little close to home for me to be immune to their plight and not shed a few tears for them.”

“Hmm.” He smirks, caressing my chin with his thumb. “So we’re still pretending that the book you’re writing isn’t about us, huh?”

My jaw instantly drops to the floor.

“How did—”

“How did I know?” He smiles broadly. “I doubt there is anything in this world you could hide from me, little stalker. I know you. And I know your heart. And…well… maybe I took a little peek at it when you were sleeping.”

“You didn’t!” I slap him, laughing.

“What can I say? You’re my favorite writer. There was no way I could hold off reading it with the rest of the masses. Besides, shouldn’t one of the perks of me being your boyfriend be that I can read your books before the rest of the world gets a chance to?”

“Boyfriend? How come that name doesn’t seem right for you? That the title boyfriend and girlfriend doesn’t seem to do justice to what we have?” I ask adoringly, transfixed by his loving eyes alone.

“Because it’s not,” he retorts simply. “Because calling you my soulmate is too strong a word for society to accept even though it’s true. Because the velvet box with my mother's engagement ring is still locked away in my bedside drawer instead of on your finger like it should be. But we can change all of that and find the right word for us when you’re ready.”

“No pressure,” I croak back, the weight of his words pressing down on my heart.

“No pressure, baby. Not with us. We have all our lives to figure shit out,” he says, as he presses a loving kiss to my forehead.

“I’m going to miss you when you leave,” I whisper, feeling his absence already.

“Fucking hope so, since I’m going to miss the fuck out of you.” Noah chuckles, tapping his finger on the tip of my nose.

“Forever the hopeless romantic.”

“Who needs that shit when we got this?” he says before leaning in again only this time to deliver a deviant kiss to my lips so decadent my toes curl.

“Hmm. You’ve always had a way with words,” I whisper breathlessly after such a kiss.

“You know what else I’m good at?” He wiggles his brows as he licks his lips. “My tongue is pretty good at other things, too. Not just talking.”

“Enlighten me.”

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