Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
NOAH
“Whoa,” I say when I step inside, and for half a second I see Molly’s smile falter. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way.”
“Really?” She looks disbelieving as she closes the door and hangs her coat up next to it.
“Seriously.” I look back at the house and shake my head. “The woodwork is incredible. Is the railing hand carved?”
“Oh.” She seems surprised by this question. “I don’t know. This was my aunt's house. We moved here when I was little, but she passed away recently, and I don’t know the history of it.”
“There’s a historic plaque on the front porch,” I say, and her eyes widen.
“There is?”
I’m well aware that I notice things like this because I’m an engineer. I love structures and the way things are built, but I’m also a sucker for a historic home. “Yeah, it says it was built in 1890. They don’t make them like this anymore.”
“I guess I always thought of it as a gingerbread house,” Molly shrugs. “It kind of looks like one from the front.”
“Yeah, Victorian revivals have that look. They’re usually pastel colors, so the pink was a good choice.” Molly seems surprised by this information. “And I can see the Christmas decorations reflect that.”
“I thought that’s what you were commenting on when you first walked in.” She looks around the space like she’s trying to see it through my eyes. “I know it’s a lot, but I love it.”
“I don’t have a problem with extra.” She narrows her eyes on me.
“What? It would be different if you brought me into a modern house with minimalist vibes and you had decorations everywhere. But in a house like this, extra is exactly what it’s supposed to be.
Look at the ceiling and the floors and all the woodwork around the door frames.
Everything is ornate and over the top. Hence, extra. ”
“Maybe that’s why I love it so much,” she says. “Come on, I’ll show you to the kitchen.”
The back of the house is where some updates have been made with a modern kitchen and a family room that was most likely a bedroom at some point.
The restoration was done with care to the house, and I can’t get over how beautiful it is.
I can see why Molly loves it and also why she could probably never leave it.
Not that I’m thinking about her leaving here.
I mean, where would she go? With me? Yeah, right, it’s not like I’d want her to come live with me in the city.
My apartment is cramped and sterile compared to this soft space.
Molly’s home is a place to raise a family, where mine is cold and impersonal like an office.
The city isn’t the place for her. She’s meant for a town like Cheerful.
Where everyone knows her and celebrates her talents.
Not in the city where she’d get pushed off the sidewalk and lost in the shuffle.
The thought of her not fitting into my world saddens me for reasons I’m not willing to admit.
But it’s not like I could fit in here. I’m surly, and most people find me standoffish.
I work well with others on projects, but I’m not their friend.
We’re not working together to have a good time; we’re working toward a goal.
Once that’s done, so are we. I’m not the type of person that walks down the street and people say hello to me, even if that’s exactly what happened today.
They were only being nice because of Molly. Not because they know me.
Our lives can’t mix, so why the hell am I here?
The work I’m doing for the next town over can be done from my apartment.
Sure, the bridge is still closed, but I could drive around.
It would take ten hours longer, but I’m not stuck here or anything.
Yet, when Kim asked me when I was heading home, I got that pain in my chest again.
“I stand corrected,” I tell Molly when I place the groceries on the counter. “Pink is clearly a Christmas color.”
“So if I were to translate ‘I stand corrected,’ that would mean…” She trails off, letting me finish the sentence for her.
“I was wrong.” I press my lips together and scowl, and she thinks it’s hilarious.
Molly’s laughter dances through the house, and it’s like the world stops spinning.
I blink, and there’s a vision of the future right in front of me.
Molly is standing there, pregnant with a ring on her finger.
She’s got her hair up in a bun while she wears Christmas pajamas and helps a little girl make cookies at the kitchen counter.
There’s flour everywhere, but Molly tells her it’s like fairy dust and makes the cookies magic.
“Noah?” Molly says my name, but it echoes in the distance like I’m far away from her.
The scene I imagine changes, and now it’s Molly with children as tall as she is. Only now she’s got gray hair and lines around her mouth because she smiles so often. She’s helping her granddaughter make cookies in the same spot, and I want to reach out and hold her hand.
“Noah?” She’s closer now, more insistent than before.
I blink a few times, and the vision fades, leaving the two of us standing in the kitchen looking at one another. Without thinking it through, I slide my arm around her waist and pull her to me. My heart is beating frantically like I’ve run a marathon.
“Noah, what’s wrong?” She puts her hand against my chest, but she doesn’t push me away.
“I-I don’t know,” I tell her as I bend down. There’s something telling me to get as close to her as possible.
“You looked lost,” she whispers as her eyes dart to my mouth and then back at me.
“Strangely, I think I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.” I pull her tight against me, and she doesn’t tell me to stop. “I have to kiss you.”
“Why?”
The question makes the corner of my mouth turn up in a smile as I stare down at her. “This won’t make sense,” I say, brushing the hair away from her face and cupping her cheek. “But your granddaughter had my eyes. So I think I have to kiss you.”
“Whatever you say,” she tells me before I dip my head and press my lips to hers.
The instant we kiss, I feel her hand pulling me closer. Her soft lips are like magic against mine, and every cell in my body comes to life. Was I even living before I kissed her? I’m not certain of anything before today. Before this kiss.
Everything about her calls to me, and although there are a million reasons this is a bad idea, I can’t think of a single one. Not when she parts her lips and lets me taste her sweetness. I moan into her mouth as my tongue slides against hers, and the more I kiss her, the more I never want to stop.
That’s probably why Molly is the one to break the kiss and take a step back. My fingers ache to pull her to me again, but I don’t. I let her slip from my hold as I stuff my hands in my pockets so I don’t embarrass myself any further.
“So,” Molly says, spinning around. “Why don’t you get started on dinner and I’ll get the movie set up. I just need to run to the restroom first.”
Before I can say anything or apologize, she darts from the room.
I rub a hand down my face and curse myself for my lack of self-control.
Usually it’s my greatest strength, but it must be all the Christmas lights that are making my brain melt.
There’s also probably lead paint on the walls, which is why I’m having visions.
Sure, that’s got to be what’s going on. Because falling in love with a woman that I can’t be with isn’t a possibility.