Chapter Fifteen
SUNLIGHT KNIFES THROUGH THE SHUTTERS AND LANDS DIRECTLY across my face as the crows from the annoying rooster who has taken residence in my backyard screams. I groan and roll over.
The room smells faintly like candle wax and Noah. For a minute, I let myself stretch into the quiet. But when I reach over, the other side of the bed is cold.
I stare at the pillow beside me, at the small crease where Noah’s head was, and then push back the covers. My camisole from last night is slung over the chair, but I’m still in the shorts I changed into before he came over. Right. They never came off. My cheeks heat anyway.
I grab my phone off the nightstand.
Noah: Didn’t want to wake you. I have an early morning at the studio. Call you later?
Noah: Last night was nice
Nice? It’s not a bad message, but it lands with a thud. I check the time stamp. Sent two hours ago.
I slip out of bed and pad down the stairs, hair a mess, my robe barely tied.
Then I hear it: clanking. Not soft clanking but loud, obtrusive construction clanking. I pause at the front window and peer out at two men in my front yard. One of them is Jay, the contractor Milly and I have been chasing to finish the roof on the old garage.
The other one, standing with his arms crossed, nodding like he owns the place, is Jack. Wearing a sweaty grey T-shirt, navy mesh shorts, and sneakers. Probably just got back from a run.
I watch as he and Jay exchange a few more words. Jack nods, they both laugh, then Jack turns and walks down the path toward his place without looking up. No glance toward my house.
I let the curtain fall, drawing my robe tighter around me and exhaling sharply through my nose. Seriously? I don’t need him managing my roofline like some kind of thoughtful ghost. I can’t decide if I’m annoyed that he was here or that he left without saying anything.
I SPENT MOST OF YESTERDAY UPSTAIRS IN MY NEWLY SET-UP studio, bare feet on hardwood, Olivia Dean playing on repeat, painting pouring out of me like it has just been waiting for the right time.
Something big and swirly and electric. It felt good.
I didn’t check my phone until after sunset, when I had two newly finished pieces and paint all over me.
And on my porch I found a small box of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies with a folded note tucked under the lid.
Looks like I missed you - N
There was a text, too. Sent an hour after he dropped them off.
Noah: Left something for you on the porch. Just…hi.
I replied a quick thanks. But that’s all that’s transpired.
Now, as I pull up to Dawn’s house, I smile as I hear the voices streaming from the backyard.
It’s nothing fancy, just a few girls, drinks on the deck, a long wooden table pulled out onto the lawn covered in mismatched dishes and melted candles.
Dawn grilled shrimp and cherry tomato skewers.
One of Dawn’s shop girls brought a charcuterie board pretty enough for Instagram.
I contributed the pimento cheese that Milly brought earlier today when she popped by for a visit.
Allie arrives right after me with Felix in a sling, a gold sparkly scrunchie in her top knot that makes her look more like a chic babysitter than someone who birthed a whole human.
She’s dancing him in small, swaying circles near the edge of the deck while chatting with Dinah, who is dressed in a cotton sundress but still looks like she just disembarked from a yacht where she broke at least one heart.
Sloane’s laughing with Dawn over something I missed the beginning of. I recognize the slinky long Prada skirt she bought at a vintage shop during a trip we took to Miami a few years ago.
“It was very flirty,” Sloane says, raising her voice for everyone to hear. “The vibes that Dinah was giving in her post last night.”
Dinah barely blinks. “It was one story.”
“One photo of you sitting very cozy with Armand Duval,” Dawn adds, raising an eyebrow.
“We ran into each other at Coral Sands.” Dinah says, tossing her hair with a flick of her wrist.
“Who is this guy?” I ask, reaching for another shrimp skewer.
Dinah grins over her water glass. “I think he can only be described as a man. ‘Guy’ feels too elementary.”
“Okay, so who is this man?” Allie asks, gently bouncing the baby in her lap.
“Armand Duval,” Dinah says. “He’s a chef.”
Sloane purses her lips. “Oh wait, I didn’t connect it before. I know this guy.”
Dinah’s gaze swivels toward Sloane with an urgency she forgets to mask.
“I’ve met him once or twice,” Sloane explains. “He’s always surrounded by food and wine editors and women named Céleste.”
“He’s very French,” Dinah rationalizes, shrugging her slender shoulder. “And very charming when he wants to be.”
“Sooo…was he charming last night?” Allie asks, unable to hide her grin.
Dinah releases a slow, unbothered smile. “He bought me an extra dirty martini and told me my aura was soft gold.”
We all groan at once.
“That’s the most cringe thing I’ve ever heard,” Dawn says.
“It worked anyway,” Dinah winks. She sips her drink, already appearing bored of the topic and attention.
Dinah has a long history of choosing charming, rich guys who inevitably let her down in ways so cinematic they almost don’t feel real.
There was the Palm Beach philanthropist who flew her to a charity ball, introduced her as his “plus one,” and then left with his ex-wife.
The London tech founder who sent her a first-class ticket to visit him…
and then canceled on her mid-flight. And the venture capital guy who insisted he “couldn’t do serious” right before publicly proposing to a swimsuit model at a regatta a month later.
Dinah laughs it off like it’s all good gossip, but sometimes I catch the flicker in her expression, like the gossip is getting old.
Allie turns toward me, baby still sleeping soundly in his sling. “And how are you doing?” she asks.
I nod automatically. “Good.”
“You just seem quiet tonight.” She leans in, adjusting the strap of her sling, then adds quietly, “Jack mentioned he saw Noah leaving your house yesterday morning.”
“He did?” My breath catches before I can steady it.
Allie nods, rocking lightly from side to side. “He…noticed.”
Jack’s always noticing but nowhere to be seen. “Yeah, Noah spent the night,” I admit. I open my mouth to continue but am immediately cut off by Dinah.
“Excuse me. Who slept over?”
All the group chatter ceases as everyone turns to me. Allie gives me an apologetic grimace as Sloane sets down her glass and plants both hands on the table like she’s ready for an interrogation. “You have been suspiciously lowkey tonight.”
“I have not,” I say.
“Yes, you’re being evasive,” Sloane says, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at me. “Which is practically an admission.”
“Tell us everything,” Dinah says. “Immediately.”
I groan and lean back in my chair. “There was a boat. And rosé-soaked pineapple. And then Noah stayed the night.”
“Was there sex?” Sloane asks, eyes gleaming.
I pause. The collective gasp is instant.
“Ohhh my God,” Dawn whispers. “There was.”
“There was not sex,” I say firmly.
“Was there almost sex?” Dinah asks, whipping her napkin in the air.
I groan, burying my face in my hands. “You guys!”
Allie gives me another apologetic look. “Okay guys. Maybe Lucy’s not ready to be grilled about this.”
“Where was this consideration when we were discussing my night with Armand?” Dinah scoffs as she reaches for more wine. “Your turn, Lucy. We need the deets.”
“We did not have sex. But, yes, he slept over, and we made out…heavily. And there may have been a song,” I offer, finally.
“Wait, what kind of song?” Sloane leans in. “Like, a song for you?”
I pause, which is all they need.
“No,” Allie whispers, eyes wide. “Did he serenade you?!”
“No, no, it wasn’t really like that,” I say, trying to rein it in.
Dinah’s jaw drops. “You are his muse.”
I laugh despite myself. “It seriously wasn’t at all like that. He didn’t even play anything. Jacob did.”
“Ohhh,” Sloane nods, like that explains everything. “The friend did the thing. Classic. Who is Jacob again?”
“Jacob is the musician that Noah’s here working on an album with.”
“Okay, so,” Dinah leans in. “Is this still like, a summer thing? Or are we talking actual feelings now?”
I wince, not ready for this deep dive. “It’s not serious.”
“Allie, did you say Jack saw him leaving? What exactly did he say?” Dinah demands.
I turn and watch Allie as she rocks Felix back and forth, clearly trying to downplay the event. Yeah, what exactly did Jack have to say?
Allie shrugs. “He just said it matter-of-factly and then went on the longest run of his life.”
Dawn finally weighs in. “Nothing matter-of-fact about it. That man’s been running on broody restraint all summer.”
I shake my head, maybe a little too quickly. “I saw Jack yesterday morning. He was just standing there in my yard. Talking to Jay. And it’s not the first time he’s been lurking around.”
“Talking to Jay about what?” Dinah asks, confused.
“I don’t know. The garage roof?”
They all stare blankly at me.
“Well, there you go,” Sloane says slowly. “He’s managing your roof guy.” She gains steam like she’s delivering a closing argument. “You hooked up with Noah, Jack saw the aftermath, and he’s still out here coordinating home repairs for you. So…which—”
“Nope,” I say, cutting her off. “We are not playing ‘Would You Rather’ with my love life.”
But it’s too late. My eyes meet Dawn’s and she gives me an empathetic grimace.