Chapter Twenty-Seven
Bobbi
The Last Supper-esque portion of Noah’s vision painting didn’t come close to capturing the raucousness of his brothers and their wives and children. Although his place in Malibu is huge, with so many large men around it starts to feel kind of cozy.
A cute curvy brunette introduces herself as Molly and beams at me. “I knew it!” She turns to Noah, looking at him like he’s her star pupil. “Told you being yourself works!”
I look at her, wondering how much advice she gave Noah.
“So you’re the master baker,” Amy says. She’s a friendly blonde and a regular. And Emmett’s wife.
“And now,” Grant says, “Noah doesn’t have to be the masturbator.” Two of the other brothers are walking by; the high-fives occur almost eight feet in the air.
“I feel like I should buy even more Danishes from you now,” Aspen says. I recognize the redhead—she used to come to the bakery all the time to grab goodies for her office.
“Thanks,” I say with a smile.
“So, has Noah finally earned a croissant?” This one looks suave, all polished charm and pleasantry, but I can picture him breaking someone’s legs without breaking that smile. What was his name…? Huxley. Mr. Harvard Law who doesn’t want to be a lawyer.
“I haven’t given him a croissant since we got together.” He hasn’t asked, and I haven’t offered. Giving him a croissant might come across as meaning everything’s all good. Maybe it’s because he loves my croissants—or maybe it’s because that’s what he filched that night he promised to come to my bakery opening. But I’m not sure if it’s wise to declare everything’s perfect when it’s been only one week into our three-month trial.
“Sounds like you’re giving him enough.” Again the smile, but this time it comes with a wink that makes it okay.
Sierra slaps him on the arm. “Don’t be crude. By the way, I love your desserts.” She’s the CEO of Silicone Dreams, which makes some of my favorite vibrators.
A Nordic blonde even taller than I am is here, making me feel less conscious about my height, although among these men I feel almost slight and girlish. She’s Lucienne Peery, the heiress to Peery Diamonds. She seems a bit tired and doesn’t have much of an appetite. She’s barely touched the massive spread that Noah had catered. It could come across as just a tad stuck up, but she genuinely seems apologetic she isn’t more fun to be around.
Her husband Sebastian sits next to her and takes care of her, pouring her water, having her try different fruits and bread. She has a couple of bites of crusty whole-grain bread, then shakes her head.
My phone buzzes. I glance at the screen.
–Floyd: Why aren’t you responding to Reggie?
Ugh.A text from the last person I want to hear from on a day like this. I blocked Reggie years ago, but I can’t block my landlord.
–Floyd: Remember—a month to design and make the cake. Reggie and I want to see the design before you bake it, to make sure you do a good job. You don’t want to humiliate yourself.
I hope your butt explodes with gluten. I’m so tempted to call him out on his fake gluten intolerance, but I don’t want to waste energy on this man-roach, who’ll insist until his dying breath he has it even though he doesn’t. Probably to feel special or get attention because he’s just that pathetic. I dump the phone in a drawer and turn my attention back to lunch. Pigs will sing Taylor Swift’s entire catalog before I bake anything for Floyd and Reggie.
Amy, Aspen, Molly and I go to the kitchen to get the pies and cobblers. The caterer reheated them just in time for dessert, and they’re bubbling perfectly.
“These smell so good.” Molly looks like she wants to bury herself in the cobbler she’s holding.
“There’s also a key lime pie.” I reach into the fridge to pull it out. I whipped it up yesterday at the bakery and brought it over last night. It’s simple to make, and perfect for the unusually warm weather.
“It’s good to see Noah with someone he loves. I never thought he’d settle down,” Amy says.
I raise an eyebrow.
“He’s always been so wild and carefree. Prototypical bachelor for life.”
“He’s had other girlfriends,” I say, feeling slightly awkward. His sisters-in-law are acting like I’m definitely going to be part of the family, and I don’t have the heart to tell them Noah and I are on a three-month trial run.
“Maybe… But if he did, we never met any of them. His brothers, either. Grant told me he was shocked when Noah asked for this lunch, and then ordered everyone to behave or else,” Aspen says with a laugh.
“He hasn’t proposed or anything,” I say.
“He will,” Amy says. “But don’t say yes until you’re sure.”
I blink. “I thought you liked him.”
“I do, but I like you too. And in a relationship affection has to go both ways. If you aren’t ready, or you don’t want it, it doesn’t make sense to commit.”
“Definitely. Sometimes the timing isn’t right,” Aspen says somewhat wistfully. “Grant and I almost lost each other forever.”
Molly pats her hand. “It worked out in the end.”
My anxiety over meeting his family wasn’t just about making a good impression,I abruptly realize, but over how they might side with him and subtly pressure me to just say yes now. Although Noah hasn’t said anything more about proposing, I know he’d like to get married, just like in his vision painting.
But his family just wants to meet me and honestly seems to hope for the best for me and Noah. Something loosens in my chest. “Thanks. Really.” An easy smile splits my face. “Now, are you guys ready to help me take these treats to the table?”
When we return, everyone’s eager to grab a piece of pie or cobbler. One of Griffin and Sierra’s triplets, Ellen, is fussing—Noah takes the little girl from them and bounces her on his knee while making funny faces. Emmett samples my key lime pie and groans. “Oh man, this is like crack. You’re going to make me fat before my time.”
Amy filches a forkful from his plate and her eyes grow round. “Wow! Better than the one we had in Florida.”
“Thanks.” I smile, my cheeks warming.
“I can’t believe I haven’t seen this at your bakery.”
“It’s not a regular item.”
Noah reaches over and takes the biggest slice. Ellen looks up at him, drool gathering around her mouth, but he shakes his head. “Too tart for you, Princess.” He turns to me. “But Emmett’s right. This is crack.” Then he turns to the little girl and tries to get her to eat some toast—without much success.
Lucie looks torn for a moment, then whispers something to her husband, and he grabs a slice of key lime pie for her. She takes a bite, then sighs with bliss, mingled with relief.
“What’s that about?” Nicholas says. He’s a quiet guy, his expression somber, his demeanor steady. He seems like one of those people with an extra-long fuse that blows up spectacularly when pushed to the limit.
Sebastian looks at his wife briefly, and she nods at him with a smile. He turns to us. “We thought about having a party to announce the news, but why not do it here? Luce is pregnant.”
Gasps go up along with shouts and laughter. “Congratulations!”
The women get up to hug her, and after a brief hesitation I squeeze her too. Grant, who is sitting to the right of Sebastian, slaps him on the back. A huge smile stretches Sebastian’s mouth.
Lucie beams quietly next to him, her head on his shoulder, then takes another bite of the pie. She closes her eyes and sighs. “Oh thank God. I almost feel human again.”
“I know you said you don’t make it often, but I’ll give you anything if you can make it for Luce.” Sebastian’s all sincerity. “She hasn’t thrown up, but she can’t stomach eating anything. She says everything tastes like sh—uh, dirt.”
“Oh, no need to pay,” I say, pleased and flattered that my pie is helping. I saw how it was with Ivy and Yuna. Both had weird food cravings and couldn’t tolerate a lot of food that they normally enjoyed. “I’ll be happy to make some for your wife. Just let me know when and I’ll have it at the bakery for you to pick up.”
Lucie looks at me like I just single-handedly protected the world from a zombie apocalypse. “You’re a life saver.”
Sebastian and I exchange numbers so he can figure out when he should come and pick up the pies. Meanwhile, Noah feeds Ellen some peach cobbler filling after blowing on it to cool it off. She takes it from the small plastic spoon, smacking her lips as she eats it, then sticks her tiny tongue out. “Too delicious, huh?” He laughs.
The girl opens and closes her adorable rosebud mouth, slapping at his wrist with her little hand.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Molly leans closer. “Ellen’s a picky eater,” she whispers. “Although I think she’s more particular about who feeds her rather than what she gets fed. Noah managed to charm her into eating mashed broccoli last time we had a family meal. She never lets her dad come anywhere near her with anything green.”
Noah feeds Ellen another spoonful with a grin, then busses her rosy cheeks. Drool drips from her mouth, and he wipes her tenderly with a napkin, then praises her. “Look at you, eating like a champ.”
The sight is so ordinary and beautiful. My womb just shivers in a spontaneous ovulation.
Emmett and Amy’s little daughter Monique trots over and taps Noah on his leg. “Unca Noah.”
“Yes, Monique?”
“I’m gonna marry you.”
He laughs. “Are you now? Why me?”
“Mommy says I should marry a man who’s nice to me,” she says primly, her chin tilted up.
I press my lips together hard to contain a laughter bubbling in my throat.
“Hey, I got you a princess tiara!” Sebastian says in a feigned outrage.
“Yeah, but you’re married, Unca Seb. Also Daddy said only the SOBs take their presents back.”
A stunned silence falls over the table. Amy recovers first. “Emmett!”
He raises both hands, palms out. “I never said that in front of her!”
“He said it on Zoom,” the little girl clarifies, “I heard him.” She turns to Noah again. “You have to buy me a ring.”
“Sorry, Princess, but I’m taken.”
Monique’s eyes widen. “Who?” she whispers, like her world just ended.
“It’s a secret right now.” He flashes me a smile. “But she took my heart, so I can’t marry you.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders sag so forlornly it’s all I can do to bite my lip and not laugh.
“But guess what? You bring home a boy and I’ll look him up and make sure he’s worthy of you. How about that? I know exactly how to be nice to you, so I’ll know when I see the right boy.”
Monique thinks about it for a moment. “Okay. I’ll tell you first, then Daddy.”
Emmett stares at his daughter like she just stabbed him in the gut, which elicits a laugh from everyone.
I drape my arm over Noah’s shoulder, feel his lips on my palm, and decide this is better than his vision painting.
When everyone’s gone, I stretch, then prop my chin on his shoulder. “That was fun. Your family’s amazing.”
He grins. “Glad you liked them.”
“So. What kind of adventures do you have when you aren’t home? I’m curious about what you do when you go off on your own to take photos of wildlife.” I want to know more about Noah, understand his dreams, separate from mine.
“Then why don’t we do something together next weekend?” he says, his eyes alive with excitement.
“Deal.”