16. Noelle #2
Digging into my fried chicken, green beans, and mashed potatoes, I slipped into an observation role, watching everyone. And, okay, fine, mostly Cal—my eyes were rogue agents. The way he interacted with his daughter and his other nieces and nephews had my Grinch heart swelling three sizes.
One thing I’d forgotten about Satterfield dinners was how noisy they were, although it might have to do with the number of extra faces that had popped up. But for all the noise, there was so much love. Inside jokes and “please pass the pickles.” Work talk and “great save last night.”
It was like coming in from a cold night and holding your hands up to the fire—warmth seeped into your bones and thawed your chilled heart from the inside out.
No performance. No censure. Just warmth and welcome. Like you mattered.
This was what I’d missed in New York. I had made friends and found a community, but it hadn’t lasted when it mattered most. But here? After all this time and all the mistakes, somehow they still believed I belonged.
After dinner, the guys kicked everyone out of the kitchen so they could wash up. Mama D’s rules—the cooks didn’t clean.
Melissa tapped my arm as I watched Cal sling a dish towel over his shoulder. Was there anything more attractive than a man doing housework competently? “You might want to wipe that drool.” She mimed wiping the corner of her mouth with her thumb.
“I’m . . . that’s not—” I blew out a flustered breath, cheeks heating.
“Uh-huh.” Melissa smiled knowingly. “When it comes to Satterfield men, it’s best if you lock them down, girly pop.” She winked at me. “I’m rooting for you.”
Butterflies fluttered in my stomach.
Stop it. I couldn’t have a crush on Cal. Any and all feelings were no bueno. Ice Queen Elsa had nothing on me.
Feelings needed to be hog-tied, weighed down with a box of rocks, and tossed into alligator-infested waters. Problem solved.
“Was it easy?” I asked quietly. “With you and Dallas?” Of all the Satterfield sisters-in-law, I’d always been closest to Melissa growing up, despite our age gap.
“In a lot of ways, yeah. Like you and Cal, we were friends long before we were romantically involved. It was easy to transition from friendship to friendship plus kissing.” She winked, then studied her husband across the room, drying dishes and laughing at something Shane said.
“But love itself isn’t always easy. We’ve had our struggles, but there’s no one else I’d rather do life with than my best friend.
Besides”—she smirked—“I wanted my babies to look like him. It’s unfair how gorgeous his eyes are. ”
I laughed. “Man, I missed you, Liss.”
She shimmied her shoulders. “What’s not to miss? I’m a delight.”
“Hey.” Cal’s warm voice rolled over me.
“Hey,” I said breathily. So much for those alligator-infested waters.
Melissa snorted. “And that’s my cue.” She waltzed away with a parting wink.
“You must have been talking about me.” Cal smirked. Heaven help me, the man had dimples for days.
Not even my highest reserves could keep me immune from those weapons.
“I saved the last piece of huckleberry pie for you. Shawna made it with gluten-free flour.” He handed me a plate. “I may have fought Brett for it.”
“My hero,” I teased. The easiness of our banter settled over me.
It was too easy. Too . . . normal. We were exes.
None of my other exes had been this chill after breaking up.
And Cal and I had been engaged. Almost married.
Yet we’d been best friends once, too. Maybe that was the difference.
With a foundation of friendship, it was easy slipping back into that role, before time and mistakes came between us.
“I’m glad you’re here.” Cal crossed his arms and smiled at me. Tired lines crept around the corners of his eyes.
“Me, too.” I fiddled with the pie fork, fighting the urge to brush a hand over his cheek. Wishing I could brush the exhaustion away. Hands to yourself, missy. “And, uh, good game last night.”
“You were watching?”
The hope in his voice sent a pang through my heart.
Unable to meet his gaze, I shoved a bite of pie in my mouth and nodded.
Was I going to admit that I’d even put on his old jersey?
Over my dead body. A girl could only spill so many secrets.
And right now, most of mine were already hung out to dry for the world to see.
“Hey, he’s leaning!” Shane hollered across the room from the kitchen.
I glanced up, and Cal was definitely closer than before. Heart tripping over itself, I stumbled backwards. The man had a way of making me forget other people existed. He always knew how to make you feel special.
“Oh, definitely leaning,” Dallas mused, drying a pie plate.
Cal was momentarily distracted. “You know that reference?”
Melissa smirked, someone’s toddler perched on her hip. “I trained him well.”
“Rock on, sister.” Cal fist-bumped her as she passed him.
“Even Greyson knows that reference, Cal,” Juliet cut in from her stool at the island counter. “You forced both of us to sit through every ’90s rom-com you could find a few years ago.”
Cal rolled his eyes. “And you both complained—loudly—the entire time. I was cursed to be the romantic one of this trio, but someone had to educate you in the romance department. I took one for the team. Paisley and Myles can thank me for those efforts.”
“You just didn’t want to mope alone,” Juliet shot back.
“You’re the one living a rom-com, seester. Embrace it.”
Dallas huffed. “Your book club persona is showing.”
“You’re in a book club?” I asked, surprised.
Cal had never been the bookish kind. Athletic, yes.
Outdoorsy, absolutely. But anything that involved school work and assigned reading, yeah, no.
Though he refused to admit it, I was positive he threw himself off a skateboard and sprained his wrist on purpose in sixth grade to get out of a book report.
“A romance book club,” Greyson scoffed, up to his elbows in soapsuds as he washed another pot.
“I’m very secure in my masculinity,” Cal defended. “And I know you watched Pride and Prejudice, my guy.”
“Because I love my wife.”
“And you’re a regular Darcy.”
“Actually, I’m more of a Mr. Knightley meets Mr. Tilney.”
Cal stared, gaping. “Who are you and what have you done with my twin? Do you even know who those guys are?”
“Of course I do. Have you met my wife?”
Cal shook his head. “Dude, I have literally never felt closer to you.”
Greyson grunted. “Don’t make it weird.”
“And what kind of romance club is this?” I asked, amused by their banter. “Not bodice rippers, I hope.”
Cal scoffed. “Of course not. We do the closed-door stuff. Mrs. Gulliver founded it. Can you imagine? And she still complains about the kissing. So I bring it up at every meeting.”
“You’re a rascal.”
“And you love it.” His dimple winked, and I smiled back. Oh the mileage he got out of that muscle anomaly.
And that’s when I remembered we had a captive audience.
“Who wants more pie?” Melissa asked, and I nearly collapsed in relief. There was a flurry of commotion, and the conversation pivoted.
I simply stared at Cal, who was still watching me with a soft smile. He liked romance movies and rom-coms? Since when? He’d always preferred action films or Andy Griffith.
Then the memory hit me. When we were eighteen, I’d been sick on Valentine’s Day, ruining our date plans, so Cal came over to keep me company, even though I was worried about him catching my germs. We’d watched a bunch of ’90s rom-coms. Because he knew I loved them.
How many threads of our lives were still intertwined because of what we meant to each other? His fingerprints were still in my life, in the music on my playlist and my favourite hoodie. Maybe it was the same for him, too.