Chapter Nineteen Noah
Chapter Nineteen
Noah
“There she is!”
I look up from the grill as if I haven’t been checking the door every five minutes.
This time, what I’ve been waiting for is here. Or I guess I should say who I’ve been waiting for.
Odette.
Her raven hair is tied up into a messy bun that sits right on the crown of her head, and I have the strongest urge to walk over and tug it free, then run my fingers through it like I have a hundred times before.
She’s wearing a yellow sundress that barely kisses her knees, and it’s just as gorgeous as the leggings and plain sweater she had on the other night when we went ice-skating.
She’s fucking beautiful, and I want to kiss her so damn badly that I can’t stand it.
Instead, I put my bottle of Glove Save to my lips and take a long pull—anything to curb the desire.
“Bestie!” my sister shouts, launching herself into Odette’s arms, hugging her like she hasn’t seen her in years.
It might feel that way, too, considering she’s been spending all her free time with me.
I guess I should feel bad about that, but I can’t be bothered. Not when I’ve been enjoying myself so damn much.
“Hey,” Odette says, squeezing her back, but looking right at me.
To anyone else, I look indifferent to her presence, but I’m far from it. If anything, I’m too excited with my racing heart and tingling fingertips.
“How are you?” my sister barrels on before Odette can even speak. “Please tell me we can have dinner at your place soon? Maybe one last hurrah before I’m an old married woman? Oh, and you can make spaghetti. I love your spaghetti, especially with your garlic bread.”
Once again, Odette’s eyes find mine, and I’m sure she’s remembering that the last time she made it, it was for me.
“Yes,” she says to Izzy. “It’s a date.”
“Oh, Odette!” Her mother comes out onto the deck, a fruity-looking cocktail in her hand. “You made it!”
“Of course I did.” Odette points to the drink. “What’s this?”
“Sex on the Beach!”
“I did not authorize this!” my dad yells from inside.
Unfortunately, I had to have this exact same conversation twenty minutes ago. Apparently my dad lost a bet with my mother, and she got to choose the signature drink this week.
She wanted to pick something embarrassing for him to have to say he was making, so Sex on the Beach it is.
I’m just glad she didn’t go with Porn Star or Slippery Nipples or even Blow Jobs. I’m pretty sure I’d swear off all family functions after that.
“Would you like one?” Elaine asks her daughter with a giggle, and I’d wager she’s going to need a ride home tonight. “They’re delicious.”
Odette flicks her eyes my way, and while I’ve tried my best not to react up until this point, I can’t help but grin, especially with how red her cheeks are. “Oh, um, that’s okay. I think I’ll settle for a water tonight.”
Her mother shrugs. “Suit yourself. More for me and Lydia.”
“Watch out! Sex on the Beach coming through!” my mother yells, waltzing outside with a tray full of drinks.
It’s going to be a long evening.
The girls take their usual spot, settling into their Adirondack chairs around the low coffee table, while Dad joins me behind the grill.
“If I’ve got to deal with your mom knocking back those cocktails all night, then I need the good meat.” He sets a plate of steaks on the table near the grill.
“What’s the bet you lost again?” I ask.
“If you can believe it, it was how many marshmallows I could fit in my mouth. I told her it was at least twelve. I tapped out at four. She cheated, buying those new, ginormous marshmallows instead of the normal-size ones, but a bet’s a bet.”
I pat him on the back. “Better luck next time, Pops.”
He sighs, a bit disgruntled, but I know he would make that bet over and over again. That’s what I’ve always loved about my parents. They’ve never lost their spark over the years. They’re still as playful with each other as they were when I was a kid.
They love each other, and I don’t just mean a little. It’s a soul-deep sort of love. The kind of love that comes around only once in a lifetime. True love.
I remember one time my father had to go out of town for a doctor’s conference, and my mother slept on the couch the whole week he was gone.
When I asked her about it, she said it didn’t feel right sleeping in their bed without him.
If I had been in that situation and Chelsea had left, I think I would’ve slept just fine.
That should have been my first sign she wasn’t the one for me. That something was missing in our relationship. That spark. That longing. Yearning.
I’ve never yearned for anything until . . .
My attention slips to Odette, who has her head thrown back mid-laugh. I have no idea what the ladies are talking about, but whatever it is, she’s clearly enjoying herself.
Seeing her smile makes me smile, and my father doesn’t miss it.
“Anything on your mind, son?”
“Hmm?”
He nods toward where I can’t seem to peel my eyes away from. “You seem a little distracted, is all.”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
He chuckles like he doesn’t believe me, and I get it. I wouldn’t believe me either. Not since my eyes have already drifted back toward Odette.
“I’m here if you want to talk. No matter what it is, even if it’s about something that you don’t think you should be doing but already are.”
I swallow roughly.
Fuck. He knows. I don’t know how he does—probably because I’m not being very subtle—but he knows.
I take a step closer to him to keep this conversation private. “Okay, so maybe there is a little something going on.”
He lifts both brows comically high. “You don’t say?”
“Please never quit your day job, Pops. Being a funny guy doesn’t suit you.”
“And sneaking around doesn’t suit you either. If you’re trying to be subtle, you’re doing a damn bad job at it.”
He’s right. I am. Hell, I think I’ve been doing a bad job this entire time, and maybe that’s for a reason. Maybe it’s because what I’m doing with Odette doesn’t feel like something I should be hiding. Something that feels so good can’t be bad, can it?
Don’t even get me started on how natural it feels to have her here either.
I was worried it would be awkward, but it’s not.
It feels like any other Saturday, any other Stevens family dinner.
It’s like she’s always belonged here with us, and I guess, in a way, she kind of has with being Izzy’s friend.
Now, though, it feels like more than that.
Or maybe I’m reading too much into things. Who knows?
“For what it’s worth, I don’t think what you’re doing is wrong.”
Now that surprises me. I figured he’d have a lecture about sneaking around with a younger woman locked and loaded. Or at least one about sneaking around with your sister’s best friend.
He doesn’t. He just gives me an understanding look.
“You don’t?”
He shakes his head. “No. Sometimes the people in our lives become something bigger, something more, and it’s okay to explore those feelings, even if you’re worried about the outcome.”
“She’s Izzy’s best friend.”
“So what? That’s not all she is. She’s a person too. If Izzy can’t see that, then that’s her fault.”
Tension claws at the back of my neck. It’s that same tension I’ve had since Odette and I started this thing.
I reach back and squeeze it, trying to ease it as best as I can. “It can get messy, though. What if . . . what if someone gets hurt?”
What if I get hurt?
I’ve thought about it before, but I haven’t really thought about it. Is that what I’m really afraid of? Trying and it not working out again? I think that might scare me more than I’ve ever let on.
“Do you have any intentions of hurting her?”
“What? No. Of course not. I like her. I . . . I don’t want to hurt her.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“For starters, she’s a wedding planner, and I don’t believe in marriage.”
He laughs. “I’m pretty sure that’s what every divorced person says. It’s like getting drunk for the first time—you swear you’re never going to do it again, but there’s a ninety-five percent chance you’re full of shit.”
Fine. Maybe he has a point. I know a lot of divorced people who swore they would never remarry, and now they have. Is that what’s going to happen to me too?
Do I even want that to happen?
Before all of this started, my answer would have been an automatic no. I would have adamantly said I don’t ever want another serious relationship. I don’t ever want to be tied down to another person again. I don’t ever want to not be enough for someone.
But now . . . fuck, I already feel like I’m enough, and I know it’s because of Odette.
I’m not saying I’m ready to walk down the aisle or anything, but now I’m not not saying it couldn’t be a possibility in the future either.
That might be a little much, and I might be getting ahead of myself, especially since I don’t even know what this thing is between us. But maybe I’m not as closed off to the idea as I thought.
And I know she’s the reason why.
My eyes drift toward her yet again, and all I see is a person who makes me laugh. A person I like to spend my time with. A person I want to spend my time with. Someone I could miss. Someone I could sleep on the couch for.
Someone I could . . .
No.
I push away that thought before I can even finish it. This is just fun. This isn’t serious.
That same ache I’ve been getting in my chest for a week or so now comes back, and I rub it, trying to relieve the twinge.
My dad pats me on the back. “Just remember, son, if you ever need to talk, I’m here.”
I nod, then sling back the rest of my cider.
Dad and I work on the steaks, shooting the shit about mundane things, his feelings about his upcoming retirement, and how I am doing with renovating the barn. We don’t talk about what might or might not be happening between me and Odette again.
Eventually, we all gather around the table, perfectly grilled steaks and plenty of sides laid out for everyone, and the conversation turns to the wedding yet again.