Chapter 31
EM
Iwoke up with the biggest, goofiest smile on my face. Even though Noah left for the stadium an hour earlier—of course taking Sassy out to let me sleep in—I kept snuggling into his pillows and giggling.
I was head over heels in love with Noah Abbott, and he loved me too.
God, the last time I thought I loved someone, he cheated on me with my friend, and it gutted me.
Jace’s betrayal took years to move on from, but with Noah?
Being with him felt easy. Sure, it was complicated with Miles and my business taking off, but our feelings were simple.
Admitting that I loved him felt like the final step, and now we could be together and figure what that meant out.
Did I stay here? Did I move out?
I smiled, the butterflies in my gut fluttering.
We could talk about that when he got back.
I didn’t want him to have any distractions before they played the Colts.
There was beef with one of the players, and the game would be tense.
Stretching, I got up to make coffee, and Miles walked out of his room with a sleepy face and in his jammies.
Miles padded farther into the living room, rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands, hair sticking up in every direction.
He dragged Sassy’s favorite rope toy behind him like a security blanket, even though she trotted along at his heels anyway, tail already wagging like the day was a promise.
Seeing the two of them like that—sleepy, safe, unhurried—made something settle warmly in my chest.
“Uncle Noah gone already?” he asked, voice thick with sleep.
“Yeah,” I said gently. “He had to be early today. But he told me to tell you he loves you and that he’ll call at lunch.”
Miles nodded like that made sense, then climbed onto one of the barstools and rested his chin on the counter while I filled the coffee maker.
Sassy sat at his feet, staring at me like she was supervising.
The apartment felt calm in a way that only existed in the mornings, before the world remembered it had demands.
Miles watched the coffee drip for a long moment before speaking again. “Do you think my mom would like your store?”
The question was casual, almost offhand, but it landed like a punch to the gut. I turned the mug slowly in my hands, buying myself a second to answer it right.
“I think she would’ve loved it,” I said honestly. “I think she would’ve been really proud of you for helping me so much too. You’re such a good helper.”
He smiled at that, small and quiet, and kicked his heels against the cabinet. “She liked when people made stuff,” he said. “She said it meant they were brave.”
“That sounds like her,” I agreed, going off what Noah shared about her.
He shrugged, accepting it without sadness, the way kids sometimes did when grief has softened into something livable. Then he perked up again, like the thought had passed through him instead of settling. “Can I help at the store today?”
“You always help at the store,” I said, pouring milk into his cereal. “You’re basically management.”
He grinned proudly, spoon clanking too loudly against the bowl. Sassy barked once, like she agreed, and I laughed despite myself.
We moved through the rest of the morning slowly.
Pajamas turned into clothes. Hair was brushed.
Shoes were found. Miles insisted on bringing his coloring book “just in case,” and I didn’t argue.
I packed snacks, checked my phone, and ignored the buzzing anxiety under my ribs because today was supposed to be good.
The shop greeted us with light and noise the moment we unlocked the door.
Machines hummed softly, the air already warm from motion and purpose.
One of the temporary helpers waved from the back, coffee in one hand, clipboard in the other, and Daniel popped his head up from behind a rack of finished jackets like a proud gremlin.
“There she is,” he announced. “The boss is here!”
I rolled my eyes, but my chest swelled anyway. Miles darted toward the table near the window, immediately spreading out his crayons like he owned the place. Sassy curled up beneath it with a satisfied huff, claiming her spot for the day.
“Daniel, you need to get back to school.” I checked the list I left yesterday, so I’d know exactly where to start. “You’ve been here a week.”
“Yeah, and I’m not behind at all. It’s basically all online.
This is way more fun and practical experience then sitting through a stupid ass lecture.
” He rolled his eyes. “I want to go into business or something. Not… anyway, we can chat about that later. We have a lot to do if we’re gonna pause to put the game on.
Oh, Noah sent me money to buy a TV for here.
Gonna arrive in an hour and we can watch the game! ”
Of course, Noah had done that. I laughed as my phone buzzed. My heart skipped a beat, hoping it was Noah with a goofy voice memo, but it wasn’t. It was my mom.
Mom: Your brother showed us pictures of the shop. It looks incredible. We’re so proud of you. Dad wants to come see it if that’s okay.
I stared at the screen longer than necessary, the warmth in my chest blooming instead of tightening. Proud wasn’t a word I associated with my parents anymore—not about my choices. I read the message again to be sure it didn’t say something else.
They wanted to visit. I typed back slowly.
Me: Thanks, Mom. It’s been a lot but really good. Let me know when you’re thinking and we can plan a time.
I slid my phone back into my pocket and took a breath, letting the moment be what it was without dissecting it. This week had taught me something important about myself: joy didn’t need to be interrogated to be valid. I could… have it.
Work took over after that.
Hands moved. Machines hummed. Daniel barked instructions like a benevolent dictator, checking orders off the list and handing finished pieces to the temp help for quality control. The last racks filled steadily, jackets lined up in neat rows like proof I hadn’t imagined any of this.
By noon, we were down to the final dozen.
I stood at my station, sewing the last name patch into place, my movements slower now—not because I was tired, but because I wanted to savor it. The light hit the fabric just right, the thread catching for a second before settling. I trimmed the excess and leaned back, exhaling.
“We’re really doing this,” I murmured.
Daniel looked up from his clipboard. “You did this,” he corrected. “We showed up.”
I smiled at him, my heart full in a way that felt dangerously close to peace. “Dan Dan, this couldn’t have happened without you. You were… crucial.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m only logistics.”
“Sure, but none of this would’ve happened without you. I hope you know that. You’re my lieutenant. We should really talk about this. You could partner with me, if you wanted to of course.”
His eyes widened in surprise, right when the bell over the door chimed.
I didn’t look up right away. People had been stopping by all week—neighbors curious about the noise, people who’d seen the posts online and wanted to peek inside. I wiped my hands on a cloth and turned toward the front, already wearing a smile that had become muscle memory.
It fell off my face before I could stop it. Noah’s parents stood inside the doorway.
The air in my lungs stalled, like my body had forgotten the order of things.
Inhale. Exhale. My throat tightened so abruptly it felt physical, like a hand had closed around it.
Why were they here? Why now? The question looped uselessly as my pulse began to pound, heavy and deliberate, each beat echoing behind my eyes.
They didn’t look angry. They didn’t look frantic. They looked composed.
And that scared me.
His mother wore a soft cardigan, the kind meant to signal warmth, her hair styled neatly, hands folded at her waist like she’d practiced this stance in the mirror. His father stood half a step behind her, posture straight, expression neutral in a way that wasn’t calm so much as controlled.
They looked like people who had planned this.
“Oh,” his mother said gently, eyes settling on me. “Hello, Emily.”
The sound of the shop seemed to recede all at once. Sewing machines kept humming behind me, but the hum was distant now, muffled, like I was underwater. My heart didn’t race—it thudded, slow and heavy, a warning drumbeat.
“Hi,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady even as my palms dampened. “Can I help you?”
Her gaze slid past me, assessing the space with quick efficiency. The tables. The racks. The bins. The people working. Approval and calculation crossed her face in rapid succession, so fast I almost missed it.
“This must be your infamous shop,” she said. “It’s… impressive.”
“Thank you,” I replied automatically, even as something tight and cold curled in my stomach. Infamous? Why would she say that?
Noah’s father stepped forward then, his attention bypassing me entirely. His eyes settled somewhere over my shoulder. “Is Miles here?”
My body reacted before my mind did.
“Yes,” I said carefully. “He’s in the back. Coloring.”
His mother smiled, soft and practiced, the kind of smile meant to disarm. “We were hoping to see him.”
A sharp, instinctive heat flared in my chest. I shifted without thinking, positioning myself enough to block the hallway behind me. Not obvious. Not aggressive. Just… present.
“Now isn’t a good time,” I said. “We’re working.”
His father’s mouth twitched, almost imperceptibly. “We won’t be long.”
Behind me, the room stilled.
Daniel’s movements stopped. The hum of the machines felt suddenly too loud, too exposed, like the shop itself had gone alert. My skin prickled from scalp to spine.
“I need to ask you to leave,” I said, keeping my voice level even as my fingers curled tighter around the cloth in my hand. “This is my workplace, and we all know Noah isn’t here.”