Chapter 9
Nine
M att kissed Norah, and her world flipped upside down. She curled her fingers into the fabric of his shirt, steadying herself against the stunning rush of heat and sensation. Twenty years of ‘maybes’ crystallized into this one sweet yes .
Norah inhaled Matt’s familiar scent and let it carry her away on a dream cloud. He drew her closer, his hand pressing against the small of her back, erasing the last whisper of space between them.
Her heart thundered. She tasted peppermint on Matt’s breath and felt the rasp of his beard against her chin. Real. Solid. Here.
Norah reeled, caught between the present and snapshots of the past. Matt’s shy smile at fifteen, offering her half his sandwich. Matt, at sixteen, showing her how to bait a hook when his uncle took them deep-sea fishing. Matt at eighteen in that diner with the paper promise ring.
Now, at forty-two, he traced the curve of her cheek, banishing the ghosts of missed chances.
She pulled back slightly, breathless, heart pounding. The two vertical grooves between Matt’s eyebrows—grooves worn by time into his handsome face—pulled inward, not a frown really, but rather as if his thoughts overwhelmed him. She got that feeling. She waited, wondering if he’d speak or leave the moment as it was.
Then he gave her a soft smile, one that reached back into the past and grabbed a memory. “Do you remember the year you came home for Christmas? Your sophomore year. I was a senior, eighteen, finally old enough…”
“For what?” She sent him a tender smile as his sentence trailed off.
“For you,” he said.
What? Stunned, Norah stared at him, opened her mouth, then closed it again. How should she respond?
“Goldie died the month before,” he went on. “Nate and I buried her with the others.”
Norah swallowed hard, a lance of old grief stabbing her chest. “I didn’t get to say goodbye. She’d been my best friend since I was five, and she was a puppy. She slept at my feet, waited for me to come home from school, and sat under my chair at the dinner table.”
Matt nodded. “She was a special dog, for sure.”
“You found me at her graveside,” Norah whispered. “It was late, and I was sobbing my heart out. I told myself I’d never own another dog.”
“I sat next to you,” Matt said. “Wrapped my arm around you, and you rested your head on mine.”
Norah’s throat squeezed. “And you kissed me.”
Matt’s lips pressed together, his voice soft. “Kissed your tears away.”
Her pulse thudded as she locked eyes with him. “First my forehead, then my temple, my cheek… then my mouth.”
He reached out, brushing his thumb across her lips. “Tears,” he said, his voice tender, “run down to our lips.”
Norah smiled, misty-eyed. He had been so sweet then, as he was now, trying to make her grief easier, just like always. “We never talked about that night.”
Matt shrugged and looked a little uncertain. “What was there to say?”
She dropped her gaze, the unspoken words swirling between them. You kissed me. I fell in love with you . She couldn’t bring herself to say it.
“I wanted to sit there forever,” Matt murmured. “Hold you forever.”
Norah met his gaze, her tears overflowing with the truth of it all. “I know. Because I wanted the exact same thing.”
Matt didn’t need to say anything more. His eyes said it all.
Norah kissed him and chased away her fears. Matt tightened his grip and made a hungry sound that vibrated throughout her body, settling somewhere deep inside her.
Then she pulled back just enough to catch her breath.
Matt met her eyes, wide and wondering. A silent question hung in the air between them.
“I didn’t think—” Norah’s voice came out huskier than she intended.
“I know. Me neither.” Matt rested his forehead on hers and brushed her lower lip with the pad of his thumb.
Her bottom lip tingled as if he’d ignited a hundred little fires underneath her skin. She leaned in again, drawn by an invisible thread tying them together.
They kissed for the longest time, amidst random barking, enjoying each other’s mouths.
Finally, breathless and overwhelmed, Norah stepped back and pressed her palm to her heart. It galloped like a painting of a Renaissance steed tearing through angelic clouds.
“Sorry, I just—” She shook her head, searching for words in her kiss-scrambled brain.
Matt took her hand, a gentle anchor, a sweet reminder he was here. “Hey, we’ve got time.”
Norah met his steady gaze. The long years stretched between them, both a shared history and separate lives, but here, now, those threads weaved together once more.
If Jean could take a chance on Cotton, Norah could surely take a chance on Matt, the man she’d loved since she was sixteen.
Norah’s heart hadn’t settled, even as the shelter disappeared in her rearview mirror. She tried to focus on the road ahead, but her mind kept pulling her back—to Matt, to the way his lips had felt on hers, soft but sure. It was like stepping off a ledge, free-falling into something she couldn’t control.
What had she done?
That kiss—twenty years of unspoken words wrapped up in one impossible moment. A moment that, if Norah was honest, she had been avoiding for a long time. She drove up Shoreline Drive, lost in thought.
That’s when she saw a dog frolicking at the water’s edge.
Paddy?
She slammed on the brakes, and the headlights illuminated the animal. Sure enough, there Paddy was, racing up the beach. Panic surged through her. She pulled the SUV over, killed the engine, and hopped out. Norah ran toward him, arms outstretched, asphalt giving way to sand under her feet.
How had he gotten out?
“Paddy!”
He trotted toward her, tail wagging, happy as you please, as if this was all a big game.
Norah knelt beside him and buried her face in his damp fur. “How did you get out, huh? Is this how you got away from your owner?”
She hugged him, and he gave her a slobbery doggy kiss, but she didn’t mind. He was safe. Norah loaded him in the SUV and drove the rest of the way home. Her headlights cut through the night and landed on her front door.
“Oh, dear heavens! The door is open.” She turned in the seat. “You rascal! Matt called it when he said some dogs know how to open lever doors. Aren’t you the smart one?”
She wrangled Paddy inside. His escape was all her fault. Matt not only warned her but bought a deadbolt as well and she’d neglected to install it.
“For shame, Norah Renee Wells,” she scolded herself.
Norah leaned against the door and stared down at Paddy, who looked up at her as if to say, Hey, I’m smart and talented. What did you expect?
“You’re lucky you’re so cute, but we can’t let this happen again, bucko.” Norah opened the coat closet and took down the Kirk’s sack she’d stashed on the shelf, the heavy deadbolt inside. “No more putting things off.”
She grabbed her trusty pink tool kit Nate had given her as a present many Christmases ago. She opened the deadbolt, read the instructions, and set to work. She should have done this sooner. If anything had happened to Paddy?—
No, she refused to think about that, but guilt guided her hands, and other emotions tumbled through her mind. It wasn’t just the door she’d been neglecting. There were other things—things harder to fix than a lock.
Things like Matt.
He’d lived in Christmas Beach for four years. He was still friends with her brother, and yet she’d never made an overture.
Why not?
Hey, he hadn’t made a move either.
But he had tonight.
Their kiss still lingered, impossible to ignore now that she was home, in the quiet, with nothing to distract her. She paused, the power drill hovering over the last screw. Matt wasn’t just a fling; he wasn’t some crush she could forget. He was part of her history. Could he also be part of her future?
What am I doing?
She finished the job, stood back, and stared at the door. Fifteen minutes. That’s all it had taken. Her house was secure now, but the knot inside her chest remained.
Why hadn’t she installed this before Paddy forced her hand?
Was it really just about feeling safe enough in a small town to leave her door unlocked, or was it that same old reluctance to secure anything too tightly? The same reluctance that kept her from fully committing to anyone.
Forty-four and never married. Norah knew she was an odd duck in that regard, but she’d never wanted a long-term commitment. It never seemed necessary.
Until now.
She slid the deadbolt back and forth, testing her workmanship. It clicked into place with a satisfying thud—solid, firm, secure.
Just like Matt.
No matter how many locks she put on doors, it wouldn’t protect her from what was happening inside her heart. Not from fear. Not from pain. And certainly not from Matt.
The door stayed locked, but everything else was wide open.
Matt replayed the kiss in his mind, the memory following him as he moved through his quiet house.
The floorboards creaked under his feet, and the faint scent of pine from his Christmas tree lingered in the air. His lips still tingled from the pressure of hers, the sweetness of that long-awaited moment coming to life at last.
Twenty years. Why had he waited so long?
He turned on the bathroom faucet, splashing cold water over his face, hoping it would settle the tangle of emotions twisting inside him.
It didn’t. His reflection stared back at him from the mirror—mussed hair, crow’s feet, confusion in his eyes.
Matt brushed his teeth, pausing halfway to glance at his cell phone on the counter.
The phone sat there, still and silent—not that he expected Norah to text him or anything—while his thoughts spun into a mess of questions. He wanted to be with Norah—more than he ever had. And now, he knew she felt something, too. But Norah… had walls. Walls so high that even twenty years of friendship couldn’t seem to crack them.
Norah hadn’t pulled away from his kiss, but he’d felt her hesitation. The familiar wariness in her gaze, the guardedness he had grown accustomed to. It wasn’t just about tonight. It was about their past, their future and everything in between.
She was protecting herself, just like always.
Phone in hand, he stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. He wanted to talk to Norah and tell her that this wasn’t just some passing moment, that he was ready for more. But how? How could he ask her to let down her defenses when they’d only been back in each other’s lives for a few days?
Matt walked to the edge of the bed and sat down, staring at the screen. Should he nudge her? Or give her space?
He pictured Norah lying beside him, her breathing soft and steady in the quiet of the night. In his mind’s eye, he saw lazy Sunday mornings spent doing the crossword puzzle together, her feet tucked under his legs as they shared coffee and laughter. He imagined coming home after a long day at the clinic to find her curled up on the couch, a dog at her feet, both welcoming him eagerly.
The thought of sharing his life with her filled him with a longing so intense it hollowed out an ache in his heart. He could almost feel the weight of a ring on his finger and see the matching band on hers.
Matt smiled to himself, allowing the daydream to linger. It wasn’t just about the big moments—the wedding, the milestones—but the small, everyday intimacies. Grocery shopping together, discussion over which brand of toothpaste to buy. Holding hands as they walked a dog in the evenings. Supporting each other through the tough days at work and celebrating the victories, no matter how small.
Reach out or wait?
The question gnawed at him. If he pushed too hard, she might close herself off completely. Norah was fiercely independent and always in control. She didn’t let anyone in easily. But if he gave her too much space, would she slip away again?
He unlocked the phone, fingers hovering. He could tell her everything. He could text what he’d been holding in for years, how much that kiss had meant, how much she meant to him. He could write the words bottled up for far too long.
Matt started typing:
Norah, I’ve waited a long time for this. For you. I think we should be together. I want us to be a couple.
He stared at the words, his thumb above the ‘send’ button, but doubt crept in.
What if it was too much, too soon?
Norah needed to feel in control. If he pushed now, he could ruin everything.
He exhaled and stared at the words on the screen for a moment longer before hitting delete. The screen went blank, but his uneasiness didn’t go away.
Not yet. Matt would wait. Norah had to come to him in her own time.