20. Noah/Macey #2
His voice was gentle, concerned but not overbearing. He didn’t hover.
“Better,” I said. “Thanks.”
He nodded, giving me a small smile before returning to his task. I watched him for a moment, the ease in his movements, the way he seemed unfazed by what had just happened. It was almost like this was another part of the morning routine—nothing more than an unexpected detour.
Moments later, he returned with two mugs of steaming coffee and two full plates of French toast. Covered in syrup and strawberry preserves. He remembered my favorite topping.
I took the mug in my hands, embracing the warmth it provided.
“I heard black coffee can be good after an asthma attack,” he said as he sat next to me on the couch.
“You heard?”
“Well, I read it online.” He cut into his toast. “It can relax airways and reduce inflammation in your lungs.”
I paused before I could even cut into my breakfast. “You researched asthma?”
“Of course.” He acted like it was no big deal. And maybe it wasn’t. Asthma wasn’t a super rare condition by any means, but most people didn’t learn about management beyond an inhaler.
I blurted out, “I’m sorry.”
His brows furrowed in confusion. “For what?”
“For…that.” I gestured vaguely. “For having a full-blown asthma attack literally hours after sleeping together for the first time.”
Noah shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s not your fault.”
“I know, but…” I trailed off, trying to find the right words. “I feel like I ruined the moment.”
“You didn’t ruin anything. Last night was amazing and so is this morning. Your asthma attack didn’t change anything for me, except that now I want to be here for you even more.”
A sense of relief washed over me, mingled with a deep affection.
I looked down at my plate, the French toast suddenly seeming more appetizing. I shoved a piece into my mouth. Slightly burnt on the edges, but it tasted good all the same. “I’m just not used to people being around when it happens. ”
“Get used to it, Scribbles,” Noah said, voice teasing. “Do you have a spare inhaler?”
“I have one somewhere in my room.”
“Maybe we should keep one here, or I could carry one with me. Just in case.” My face must have echoed the surprise I felt because he rushed to continue. “I know you’re usually prepared, but if something happens and you don’t have it, I’d like to be able to help.”
A lump formed in my throat. No one had ever offered to do something like that for me before.
Part of me wanted to protest, but I shoved that part of me down in favor of moving us forward. Any instinct I had to deny his request wasn’t about needing help. It was about letting someone in again.
“Okay.” I smiled. “I’d like that. But…”
“But?”
“I hate black coffee.” I held my mug out toward him. “Do you have any sugar?”
His laugh echoed across the apartment, but he brought me a few sugar packets without complaint.
It tasted much better now. “Did you even post the Stories from Sushi Nirvana?”
Noah cursed under his breath and reached for his phone. “I knew I forgot something. Sushi sneak peek, yada yada.”
The sugar in the coffee and the breakfast were working their magic. I knew Noah had attempted to cook us something healthy before he ruined the dish. In my opinion, it was a sign from the universe to stick with delicious, non-healthy breakfasts.
“You are a terrible influencer,” I said. “How do you get away with so much?”
He shrugged, eyes trained on his phone. “I pay my manager a lot of money.”
“Does he know about the fake dating? ”
Noah’s torso stiffened, but he continued swiping through his photos. He posted a selfie he took of us when we first walked in. “No, he doesn’t.”
Seemed like a bad strategy to lie to your social media manager about a key element in your life. I mean, I was letting my coworkers and boss think I was dating Noah, but my column wasn’t my personal brand. Not like how Noah’s social media was all about him.
I wanted to ask Noah what this meant for us. Were we just going to continue doing the same old deal of posting a photo of us together once a week for two more weeks, then shake hands, and say see you later ?
If we didn’t have the presence of more than a million people looming over our heads and rushing to comment their thoughts on our relationship, maybe it’d be a little easier. But it was one thing to present yourself to an online audience and another to someone you cared about in reality.
“He’d probably yell and throw something at me if he did know,” said Noah. He finished posting the photos and dropped his phone onto the coffee table.
“Throw something? Are you in an abusive relationship with your manager, Noah?”
“Ha. No. He usually picks something soft to throw at me, don’t worry.”
“Like a sock?”
“That, or something easily found in his kitchen, like a bell pepper.”
“Speaking of, thanks for making breakfast.” I set my empty plate onto the coffee table. “I actually can’t stay too late. I told Kira I’d help her bring some art supplies home.”
“You’re sure you’re feeling better?” Noah asked as I gathered my purse and slipped on my shoes.
“Oh, yeah, just like new. ”
“Don’t forget what I said about the inhaler.” Noah pulled me into a goodbye hug. I could have sworn I felt his lips on my hair. “Let me take care of you, please.”
“Only if you let me do the same.”
He snorted into my hair. “You’ve been doing it for weeks.”
Unconsciously, maybe. We took care of each other. I leaned into Noah’s chest and breathed easier than I had all morning.