Chapter Eighteen
At The Sunset ~ mid-August
“ B ye, now. Love you. Have the best night ever.” Sam continues to blow me kisses as she walks out of my camper. Once she’s gone, I stand in front of my mirror once more, making sure I’m perfect.
The black dress sits about mid-thigh, hugging my upper body while giving flare to my bottom half.
The heels are striking against the black, and though I feared I’d look too much like Halloween with black and orange, the color is soft enough to give a playful vibe to the look.
Paired with gold bow earrings and a matching bracelet, my hair shiny and in a loosely curled high pony, I’m a vision if I do say so myself.
I live in the South, so I’m forced to care about my image. But I rarely get this dressed up, and as I continue to take in my reflection, I wonder if I should find reasons to dress like this more often.
Being Noah’s just might be the answer to that.
I shake the thought, not wanting to start the date off with any more nerves and doubts than necessary. No. I’m going out tonight with an open heart and an open mind and a—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
My heart jumps right out of my chest as I wobble on my heels, careening backward off my bedroom steps. I grab the sides of the small doorway and steady myself as the knocks repeat three more times.
I check the time as I click down the steps. He’s five minutes early.
Though I don’t want to, I can’t help but compare him to my last real relationship—that I fully remember anyway. Lane was always at least fifteen minutes late. Most of the time longer than that.
Readying myself and patting any flyaways down—not that they exist, thanks to the excessive amount of hairspray Sam used—I breathe in. Out.
And pull the handle of the door, leaving Noah to open it as I wait for my moment. You know the one. Where the man first sees the woman dressed up nicely for him. I tried for Lane, but he never showed any indication that he cared if I put on sweatpants or a sundress for him.
Noah, however, does not disappoint.
He’s standing there at the bottom of the steps with yet another bouquet of flowers—this time orange and pink wildflowers—and wearing fitted black dress pants, a light orange collared button up tucked into his waist, and an expression that has me wanting to twirl for him.
So I do.
And when I make it back around, his jaw is still hanging open, eyes bugging out of his head, and he’s still yet to find words.
“Hi,” I whisper, averting my gaze and clutching my little white purse. I don’t know which is making me melt more: how recklessly hot he looks or how he takes every inch of me in before clearing his throat and rubbing his hand down the bottom half of his face.
But his voice is rough and breathless when he finally speaks.
“Esme Lorraine, you might just be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
” He holds out his hand to me, and when I slip my fingers through his, my world clicks right into place.
Noah guides me down the steps, and when my heels are digging into the grass and I’m pressed against him, he kisses my cheek.
And I thought the forehead kiss was the sweetest thing…
“For you, my lady.” Noah hands me the flowers, and I take them, my fingers brushing against his. Those sparkling hazel eyes are dancing as his gaze bounces from my eyes to my lips. But instead of kissing me, he whispers, “Ready to go?”
I nod, not trusting myself with words. He chuckles and starts leading us across the yard, but my heels keep digging into the dirt. “I’m sorry,” I rush out, yanking my heel from the ground. “I shouldn’t have worn these things.”
“On the contrary,” Noah says, a lilt in his voice. He drops my hand, and before I realize what’s happening, he swoops me into his arms, bridal style. The widest grin overtakes his face. “Now I’ve got a good reason to sweep you off your feet, sweetheart.”
A girlish giggle escapes my lips as I wrap my arms around his neck.
He kisses my forehead and stares into my eyes, a look of love that has my stomach tumbling.
The words are on my tongue, I love you, but I bite down.
The fear that this will all fade away one day is a weight on my chest, and until I can lift it off, I have no business telling this man I think I’ve chosen to love him forever.
Enjoy the date, Esme. Just enjoy the date and feel things out.
I sway to the rhythm of his gait, my fingers playing with the edges of his hair, until we stop in front of his truck. He sets me down on the gravel, opens the door for me, and even helps me in. Through it all, my brain is battling between this is real and this is not real.
This is princess treatment, and while many say these are basic expectations for a woman to hold for a man, I’ve never been cared for this way by any man besides my dad when he took me out to show me how a man should treat me.
Didn’t work, of course, because I then ended up clinging to a man who played with my mind and emotions, making me believe I wasn’t worthy of this. Or that it was even real.
Noah gently closes the door before walking around and hopping into the driver’s side. The truck roars to life, and in the evening summer sun, another memory flashes across my vision. This one is of us swimming underneath a setting sun, kissing and touching and whispering I love yous.
It’s the first time I remember telling him that. Feeling love for him.
I’m breathless when I come out of the memory, and Noah is staring at me with concern in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
Centering myself and focusing on the present, I give him a soft smile. “Another memory resurfaced.”
“Tell me.” Noah throws the truck in drive, and as we roll over the gravel and to the stop sign at the end of the driveway, I tell him about the memory.
Everything except the I love yous.
I hold that in, and I ponder it, and I sit with it all the way into Jackson, which is where he told me we were headed after I changed the subject off my memory. I guess Sam was right to dress me up more than usual.
An hour later, thanks to potholes, roadwork, and traffic, Noah drives into the parking lot of Inkwell’s, a small independent bookstore Sam and I like to frequent. But it’s after six, and they’re closed.
“Why are we stopping here?”
A smile forms on his handsome face. “This is our date.”
I wrinkle my brows, questioning him with my eyes. But he doesn’t answer. Instead, he hops out of the truck and rushes around to my side to get my door. He offers me his hand to help me down, and then we walk with our fingers intertwined into the dark bookstore.
A bell above the door rings, and past the stacks and stacks of books, into the back room I’ve never entered, are dimmed lights and candles.
My breath hitches as we near the faint glow and I see a table set for two with a rose in a thin, glass vase and two candles on either side as a centerpiece.
Twinkle lights hang from the tall ceiling, giving a warm, romantic hue to the space.
“Noah,” I gasp his name as we enter the small room that is most definitely the back office of this place.
But you can’t readily see the desks, papers, and boxes pushed up against the walls.
Instead, I’m drawn to the steaks, potatoes, broccoli, and basket of bread rolls on the table.
And don’t get me started on the massive slice of chocolate cake begging me to eat it first. Tall glasses of what looks to be sweet tea sit on the table, condensation rolling down the sides of the glass.
Noah lets go of my hand only to move his to my lower back.
I turn to look up at him. “You did all of this? For me?”
His thumb rubs up and down my spine, sending a shiver to meet the movement.
“For us, sweetheart. I remember you didn’t quite like my adventurous dates like hiking back on the island.
I thought I’d try something quiet, romantic, and soft.
A date fit for my introverted and a little anxious woman.
My friend Kade owns this place, and he helped me set it all up earlier. ”
“Well tell him thank you for me.”
My knees are noodles as I fight to not swoon. His steadying hand on my back as Noah guides me to my seat is the only thing keeping me from tumbling to the ground.
Because truth is, I don’t just love this man.
I like him.
There’s a huge difference.
And the liking him just might scare me more than the loving him.
I fell out of like with Lane within a few months, but I stuck around because he’d made me believe he was the best I’d get. I believed the transposed idea of what I desired over what I was actually getting.
But this?
No man has done this for me. I don’t remember Bryan, but I’d venture to say he didn’t measure up to this .
“Meme? Are you going to take your seat?”
I jolt from my head and quickly land in the chair as Noah scoots me into the table. He takes one step and sits down across from me, a hesitant smile on his face contradicting his earlier smirk.
“Are you okay?” I ask, lifting a brow.
Noah nods, though I don’t think I buy it. He clears his throat. “Let me pray for us.”
Heaven, take me now…
“Dear Heavenly Father, thank You for Your consistent grace, Your unwarranted mercy, and Your everlasting, eternal salvation through Your son, Jesus. Father, I can’t thank you enough for bringing Esme back to me.
All those nights I screamed, cried, and begged.
All those nights I thought You’d given up on me.
” Noah’s voice breaks, and I open my eyes to find his hand taking mine as my tears drip onto my steak.
“Well, God. You heard me and saw me. And in Your timing, though I’ll never understand on this side of eternity why we had to take this journey, You brought the woman I want, the one I need, back to me.
So, thank You, God. And please bless this meal to our bodies and our bodies to Your service. In Jesus’s name, amen.”