Chapter Thirty-One
Bobbi
Sometime in the night, the mattress dips. I stir as Noah slips in and puts his arm around me.
“Hey, you’re back. What time is it?”
“Like midnight?” He kisses me. “Sorry I woke you up.”
“I wasn’t really sleeping. Sort of dozing. It took you a while,” I say, turning and burying my nose in his chest and inhaling the fresh shampoo and body wash. His skin is a little damp from a recent shower.
“A fender bender. And it rained a little, too.”
I sigh. I can only imagine what the traffic must’ve been like with rain. One drop of water from the sky and all of L.A. turns into a parking lot.
Noah’s phone buzzes on the night stand, but he doesn’t check it.
“You should get that, in case it’s your mom.”
“She doesn’t need a plumber that bad.” But he picks up the phone anyway, then shakes his head. The dim light shows a reluctant smile on his face.
“What?”
“Here. You can read it.” He hands me the phone. “Group text. Hux just added to it.”
–Griffin: How’s Bobbi doing?
–Nicholas: I finally saw the videos Molly found. That’s assault, isn’t it?
–Huxley: No point pressing charges. She’d get a slap on the wrist, if that.
–Griffin: Dad should’ve waited before dragging them out. I never got a chance to kick ’em.
“When Griff kicks you, something breaks,” Noah says.
I let out a short laugh. “Good to know. Next time you see him, tell him thanks.”
“Tell him yourself when we have another get together.”
I realize he’s right. And his talking about our future like he’s going to be around—of course!—sends flutter of hope and optimism. “Yeah, I will.” Smiling and placing a hand on his arm, I return to the text.
–Emmett: You kick women now too?
–Grant: She’s a bitch, but she’s still a woman…
–Griffin: No, I don’t kick women. But I would’ve kicked him twice. One for him, one for her. She’s his fiancée. He should take full responsibility.
–Me: Very medieval of you.
–Griffin: Not my fault he’s engaged to an animal.
–Huxley: There are ways to sue them into oblivion. No need to get violent like savages.
–Griffin: Say that to my face.
–Nicholas: I don’t think Bobbi would appreciate you fighting.
–Me: I wish I could dump them in the middle of a jungle with a single canteen of water.
–Huxley: I know a guy who might know a guy.
I lift my eyes. “Is he serious?”
“Could be. You never know with Huxley.”
Another text pops up. I let Noah tap it. He looks at it for a moment and then tilts the screen back my way.
–Amy: Is Bobbi okay? Does she need anything?
–Lucie: I can’t believe it! That cake was so beautiful. And her cut looked terrible.
–Sierra: I can drop by with some dinner if that helps.
–Molly: There’s this poultice I found on the Internet that’s really good for cuts.
–Me: Thanks. I’ll ask Bobbi what she needs. She got four stitches, so she might need some help.
–Aspen: If she needs help with the bakery, I can totally do it. Not with the baking, but with the coffee pots, displays and cash registers. I worked at a café in college, and I was good at it.
“Wow…” I swallow a small lump. I can always count on my cousins—and Yuna and Ivy—but I never imagined I’d get the same kind of absolute support from Noah’s family as well. I thought it might take a while to win them over.
“They care about you,” Noah says, kissing my temples like he knows exactly what I’m feeling right now. “You’re part of the family, Bobbi.”
“Isn’t this a little…premature?” My voice trembles slightly. “We aren’t even engaged or anything.”
He takes the phone from my hand and puts it on the night stand, then shifts carefully to avoid touching the injured arm and holds me tight, so I can feel his heart beat against my skin. “None of that matters,” he says in the dark. “I’ve never brought a woman home to introduce or hosted a lunch like what we had. They know you’re the only woman to hold my heart.”
I lay my arm over him, the unease I’ve had since the trip to the Antelope Canyon dissipating like a handful of sand in the ocean.
We should be fine as long as we love each other and have each other’s backs.