24. Bailey
Bailey
“Did you know when Bailey first started working here, she didn’t evacuate when the fire alarms went off at the inn?” Noah teased.
“Those files were important,” I exclaimed as the rest of the table broke out into laughter. I think Grant had actual tears rolling down his face. “And it was a damn good festival, so you should be proud of me,” I huffed, taking a swig of wine.
Noah leaned close enough to my ear so the others wouldn’t hear.
“I’m always proud of you, baby. Don’t ever doubt that.”
Cue butterflies or whatever the hell was doing somersaults in my stomach. Noah’s hand rested on my thigh, and it was just the right amount of claim to make my pulse stutter.
Beneath the table, his thumb traced a slow, absentminded line along the inside of my knee—subtle enough no one noticed, devastating enough that I forgot how to breathe for a second.
This dinner was everything I yearned for growing up.
It was chaotic, messy, and full of so much love.
The way Camille loved her sons put her in the running for Mom of the Year, and she wasn’t even mine.
She saw each of their strengths, making them feel uniquely seen while acknowledging that each of her sons had a different weakness, too.
She was dynamic and witty, and if I thought losing Noah would be hard, losing Camille would be downright heartbreaking.
That realization sat heavier than I wanted it to.
I reached for my wine again, needing something to do with my hands.
“Eli, any lucky ladies in your life at the moment?” I asked.
I was itching to get the attention off Noah and me, and unfortunately for Eli, he was right in my line of vision.
“It’s funny you ask—” Grant started. “Ow! What the fuck, Eli? You know I have sensitive shins. That’s why I could never play soccer.”
Noah held back a laugh behind his hand before gesturing toward Eli to answer the question.
Eli sighed. “It’s complicated.”
The whole table, including Camille, groaned in unison.
“It’s not complicated, sweetheart. You’re just dense. And I say that with love,” she replied.
Eli grunted before standing to take his plate to the sink. “Like I said, complicated.”
I grimaced toward Noah. “I wasn’t trying to upset him.”
“Oh, he knows, peaches. It’s a sore subject for him. Nothing for you to worry about,” Noah said, squeezing my knee once before letting go.
“So,” I asked, “how many lucky girls have gotten to visit this place?”
Noah tugged my chair closer to his, tucking my knees between his legs.
“That would be a whopping total of one, and her name rhymes with Hailey,” he said.
I hummed. “Sounds like a very cool gal. You’ll have to introduce me sometime.”
“Cheeky girl.” He kissed my cheek. “Let me tell the guys bye before we head out.”
I snuck into the kitchen, wanting a private moment with Camille before Noah came back in. The noise of the dining room faded behind me, replaced by the soft clatter of dishes and faint music humming from a speaker somewhere.
“Hi, Camille,” I called out. She was busy putting dishes in the sink and swaying to the music.
“Hi, dear. Come on in!” She paused to dry her hands, looking at me with the same knowing expression every mom seems to have.
“I just—” A stroke of insecurity hit me at full force. “I just wanted you to know that I know the circumstances between Noah and me are unconventional,” I blurted out. “But I care about him. A lot. More than I ever expected to. And I promise it won’t interfere with my work for the inn.”
Camille grabbed each of my hands in hers and pulled me close.
“I trust my son unconditionally. If he chose you, and I know he has, then I’m not concerned at all.” She gave my hands a firm squeeze. “You belong here. At the inn and in this town. Everything will work itself out.”
You belong here.
She pulled me into a firm hug, and I peeked over her shoulder in time to see Noah leaning by the door. I hugged Camille for what I’m sure was much longer than socially acceptable and headed toward Noah, promising to call her if I ever needed anything—her son be damned.
Noah looked smug during the drive back to the inn.
“Well, go on and say whatever you’re itching to tease me about,” I huffed.
“I knew you had nothing to worry about,” he teased.
“Cockiness does not suit you, sir,” I replied.
“There’s a dirty joke in there somewhere. Just give me a second to find it,” he replied.
I rolled my eyes, but deep down inside, I started to wonder if this could truly work. If Bexley could be my home, and if Noah could be my forever.
And for the first time, the idea didn’t terrify me.