36. Noelle #3
Cal’s eyebrows flew up. “Why?”
I shrugged. “I’ve never been the fun friend.” Or girlfriend. Something my few exes often brought up when we broke up. Just because I had a comfort zone, rewatched the same shows, lived by a carefully planned schedule, and routinely ordered the same thing at restaurants.
“I like you just the way you are,” he said quietly. “And if you know what you like, don’t let anyone try and make you feel bad about it.”
I nodded. “Then caramel pecan and mint chip sound good to me.”
“That’s the spirit.”
Cal ordered the ice cream, getting a scoop of strawberry and coffee for himself, and we walked back to the car. But instead of getting in, he tugged me next door.
“The botanical gardens?” I asked in surprise. “We talked about coming here years ago.”
His lips curved up in a smile. “I’m finally making good on my promise.”
I swallowed hard and slipped my arm through his. “Then let’s go.”
The gardens were quiet, but it created a bubble of privacy.
Cal had called in a favour with a friend to get us in after hours.
We trailed through the English Garden area, admiring plants and enjoying our ice cream.
Not much was blooming this late in the season, but the greenery, ivy, and heather lined the cobbled paths as we passed through another wrought-iron gate.
It was a garden scene right out of a Jane Austen novel. There was even a fountain involved.
“You should see this place at Christmas,” Cal said when I paused to examine a patch of heather. “I brought Khia here last year, and she loved it. Maybe we . . .” He trailed off, and I held my breath. “I’d like to bring you back to see the lights,” he said quietly.
“I’d like that,” I whispered, and slipped my hand around his bicep, letting him lead me further down the path.
“Why nursing?” Cal asked when we walked under the twinkle lights hanging low over the walkway. “You never mentioned being interested in medicine. Unless”—he rubbed the back of his neck—“that was something else I wasn’t listening to.”
I smiled weakly. “No, it wasn’t. I just . . . taking care of people was all I was good at. And even now, that’s gone, too.”
“What do you mean the only thing you’re good at?” His voice sharpened.
“You and Myles got the athleticism. Olive is a music whiz, Pheebs is a genius, Ruby is magical behind a camera. And then there’s me.” I hugged my thin cardigan closer, wishing I’d remembered to grab something warmer.
Without a word, Cal draped his jacket around my shoulders.
My first instinct yelled at me to protest that I was fine.
I could take care of myself like I always did.
But the intoxicating warmth and the signature smell of his cologne were too tempting to pass up.
Not that I couldn’t do it. I totally could.
Maybe. It’s nice being taken care of for once.
“You felt left out?” Cal asked, surprised.
I shrugged, burying my nose in the soft leather.
“I worked two jobs in high school. If I wanted something, I bought it. No allowance. Then my sisters came along, and suddenly my parents were paying for extracurricular activities.” I sniffed.
“I’m not jealous. I just . . . feel like I had nothing to offer except what I did. ”
You were tired of being strong all the time. You wanted to break and have someone pick up the pieces. Just once.
At nineteen, I’d run away to find myself.
At thirty-two, I was just as lost as I was back then.
“I don’t know who I am without my job,” I confessed.
“I don’t know who I am when I have nothing to offer.
My family kept me around because they needed me, not because they wanted me.
” Being needed was the only way to win love, so I’d chased it.
Craved it. Made myself invaluable. What would it be like to be wanted, not just needed?
Cal tugged me to a stop, face serious under the dim light. “That’s not true.”
I scoffed. “The first conversation I had with my parents after I left was about how I left them in the lurch. Not why I took drastic action that was so out of character for me.”
“Noelle, you are more than your job or your capabilities.” He brushed a tear from my cheek. When had I started crying? “You always have been.”
“I know that in my head,” I whispered. “But it never felt like that. Everyone expected me to hold everything together. I wasn’t allowed to mess up.”
“Sweetheart, it wasn’t your job. It was never your job.”
When I didn’t say anything, he repeated it.
“Your value isn’t tied to a job, a man, or your contributions to society.
You, Noelle Shepherd, have value because God says you are valuable.
He loves you. So does your family. Your friends.
So do—” He paused, thinking better of whatever he was going to add.
“You don’t have to earn that love. It’s already yours. ”
I sniffed. The words settled over me like a warm blanket. “This was remarkably heavy for a first date.”
His smile was soft as he cradled my face. “Or maybe it’s exactly right.”