21. Kate
Chapter twenty-one
Kate
P orthaven mornings always carry this strange kind of peace; soft light, salt laced air, and gulls calling distantly on the breeze. But this morning, something feels different. Brighter. A little more golden.
We pull up in front of Ava’s café, the car tires crunching over gravel as Noah shifts into park. Before the engine’s even off, Parker’s already unbuckling himself with wild urgency, vibrating in his seat.
“Can I get down? I see Maddox! And…and Siobhan too!” he calls, breathless, pointing with the same kind of excitement he usually reserved for his dinosaurs and double scoops.
I can’t help but laugh. “Go ahead, baby. Just be careful, okay?”
That’s all it takes, and he’s out like a shot, feet hitting the pavement as Blaze bolts after him, the leash trailing in his wake. Noah watches them for a beat, smiling faintly, and then turns to me.
“He’s getting faster, even Blaze is struggling to keep up with him,” Noah says, his voice filled with amusement and adoration.
I know he loves Parker, and that warms my heart more than anything else.
“I know, right…” I turn toward him, and he’s already leaning in. His hand sliding behind my neck and pulls me into a kiss.
It’s deep and slow and completely unexpected. My breath catches, and I instinctively pull back a little, just enough to blink up at him in confusion.
Anyone can see us.
“Noah…”
“Just… one more,” he whispers against my lips, his voice rough with need. “Please?”
And God help me, I’ve always been a sucker for that. Not just the kiss. But the pleading. The way his voice dips low, the way his guard slips. It does something to me.
So, I melt. My whole body sighing into his as he kisses me again, and this one is gentler, more reverent. My heart beats faster, and I feel it everywhere; in my chest, in my belly, in my toes.
When he finally pulls back, there’s a dazed, boyish softness in his eyes that makes my stomach flutter. I absolutely love it.
“There’s so much I want to do to you,” He whispers as he eyes me.
“More than you already did last night?” I murmur, caught in the heat of his gaze.
“Want to drive back home? They won’t mind looking after Parker for a few hours.” Noah says, already inching forward again.
“I think the fire station should have a new chief.” My voice sounds a little breathless. “We are here for the preparation for the fundraiser for the fire station, and you want to leave?”
“The preparation can wait; we still have time.” He argues back.
I smack his shoulder and hook a finger against the car handle. “This can wait.”
We climb out of the car, his hand brushing mine intimately. And then we’re stepping into the familiar chaos of Ava’s café.
The bell above the door chimes, and the warmth hits us immediately; cinnamon, brewed coffee, the soft murmur of voices layered with laughter. Everyone’s already here. And the moment we walk in, they turn like a wave.
“Oh, look who finally made it,” Ava teases, arms crossed but grinning from behind the counter.
Rachel all but skips over, tugging me into a hug before aiming a wink at Noah. “Well, aren't you glowing?!.”
Noah groans under his breath, scrubbing a hand over his face, and Margaret, never one to let a moment pass, adds, “He’s been glowing lately too. Must be all that... domestic bliss.”
Laughter ripples through the room. I feel my cheeks flush, but it’s different now. I don’t shrink from it. I don’t duck my head or try to disappear into the nearest potted plant.
Instead, I smile.
Because somewhere along the way, I’ve stopped minding the teasing. If anything… I’ve started to enjoy it. Letting people see us. Letting myself be seen. Letting Noah take care of us.
Noah slides an arm around my waist, grounding me, and presses a kiss to the side of my head, just like that. It doesn’t matter who is watching. He just does it.
We take our seats near the wide front windows.
The children, Parker, Maddox, and Siobhan, are already playing nearby, tumbling over building blocks while Blaze keeps watch like an oversized nanny.
The light pours in across the table, catching dust motes and coffee cups and paper folders spread wide.
I flip open the binder I brought, the one I spent all evening organizing. A color-coded list of fundraiser ideas. Vendor contacts. Theme options. Budget breakdowns. I even printed mood boards—something Emily will tease me for, but secretly love.
“Okay,” I say, clearing my throat and glancing up at the others: Emily, Rachel, Ava, Margaret… and three women I know mostly by name and reputation.
Elaine Carter, Tara’s mother, sits with quiet poise, fingers wrapped around a porcelain cup like it’s a precious artifact.
Beverly Simmons, the town’s self-appointed matchmaker-slash-bookstore clerk, is already flipping through one of the packets I handed out, murmuring little ohs and hmms to herself.
And then there’s Dottie Reynolds, sharp-eyed, spine-straight, arms folded like she’s waiting for someone to prove her wrong.
I nod at each of them, nervous for just a second. Then I find Noah’s gaze across the table.
He gives me the smallest nod.
And just like that, I remember…I belong here.
“I was thinking,” I start, spreading out the folder of ideas, “we could go with a garden party theme this time. String lights, live music, food trucks, maybe even a silent auction if we can pull it together in time…”
Their expressions shift, curious. Interested. And suddenly, the planner in me kicks in full force…like a light flipping on.
I dive into the ideas with Emily, Rachel, Ava, and Margaret, bouncing off their suggestions, adjusting notes, and sketching out timelines.
Elaine adds a thoughtful comment here and there, and even Beverly chimes in with a few vintage-themed ideas she pulls from her endless vault of old romance novels.
And Dottie? Well. She watches. I can feel her gaze on me, assessing…but not unkind.
And all the while, this warmth keeps blooming in my chest.
It’s been a month since that night. A month since Noah looked at me like I was something worth staying for.
And he hasn’t let me down once.
Gifts. Late-night dinners. Grocery runs.
Surprise flowers. Long walks with Parker and Blaze.
Sex has been so good it’s become a kind of language between us.
But it’s more than all that. It’s the way he’s always there for me.
The way he listens. The way he holds space for me, even when I don’t know I need it.
And it’s terrifying.
Because for the first time in years, I feel myself slipping…. falling….not into danger, but into something far more dangerous.
Love.
Real, slow-burning, heart-thudding love.
And I don’t know how to stop it.
I look up from the notes just then and catch him watching me. He’s not even trying to hide it. He sits there with that unreadable look on his face, elbow propped on the table, eyes steady on me as though he’s trying to memorize something.
He smiles when he sees me looking, and I know I’m dangerously close to falling in love with him.
God, when did that happen? Somewhere between him holding Parker’s hand during his T-ball game and standing behind me while I brushed my teeth, and yawning into my hair. Somewhere in the middle of all the normal, he became essential.
I feel it now, low and deep, like something blooming where nothing had grown in a long time.
My hand finds his under the table before I even think. I slide my fingers over his knuckles, palm to palm, grounding myself in him. He blinks once, then squeezes gently, as though he knows exactly what I need.
The sound of the bell chiming as the door opens draws my attention.
Tara .
Her heels echo across the wooden floor sharply. Every step punctuates the silence that falls like a weighted curtain over the room. Conversations die mid-sentence. Coffee cups hover just shy of the lips. Someone, maybe Emily, clears her throat.
Tara stands inside the doorway, sunglasses perched high on her head despite the overcast skies, one hand still wrapped around a pale pink box. Her blouse is cream, pressed and tucked with the kind of precision that says I planned this .
Her lipstick doesn’t smudge when she smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes either.
“Well,” she says, her voice syrupy with offense. “Don’t let me interrupt whatever... this is.” Her gaze slides to Noah, then to me, and the tight smile that follows doesn’t touch her eyes. “Didn’t realize I wasn’t welcome here.”
Silence stretches for a beat too long. Even Blaze lifts his head from where he’s sprawled beside Parker, ears twitching.
Ava is the first to speak. “Tara, you’re always welcome. We’ve had this meeting on the books for a while now, and you’re welcome to join us.”
Tara tosses a hand like she’s brushing dust from her jacket. “I wouldn’t even be here if Mom hadn’t begged me to drop off those vintage linens for your garden theme. But clearly, I’ll just be in the way.”
Her eyes flick to mine, and I brace.
Because she’s never subtle with me.
Over the past month, she hasn’t grown to accept me; if anything, her dislike for me has become even more apparent.
She finally turns her full attention on me, her mouth curving into something that could pass for polite if not for the venom tucked inside.
“You seem... comfortable,” she notes, eyes narrowing as she spots my hand laced in Noah’s. “Real cozy for someone who is an outsider.”
My stomach twists. I try to pull my hand away, but Noah holds firm. His thumb grazes the back of mine subtly, but grounding.
I don’t say anything. I can’t. My throat is too tight.
“I guess we’re including anyone in the town’s planning these days,” Tara adds, blinking slowly like she’s so surprised. “No standards necessary.”
Elaine’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade. “Tara, that’s enough.”
But Tara only turns to her, unfazed. “No, it’s fine. I’m just trying to catch up and understand things.”
Then her gaze settles on Noah again, and something colder flickers behind her expression.