36. Bailey
Bailey
Istood there for a second longer, staring at the space where my parents had been.
“Bailey—” Noah started.
“I need five minutes.”
The reception was in full swing, and no one would notice if I escaped inside for a moment. The conversation had left me emotionally drained, and I needed a moment to calm my racing heart. Confronting my parents and my douchebag ex was not on my bingo card, but here we were.
Could I have handled them on my own? Sure. But having Grant, Camille…Noah—having them stand behind me—reminded me I wasn’t alone. My biological family might be shit, but my Bexley crew would hold my heart forever.
I forced out a deep breath, taking in my surroundings. Noah’s office was where everything started, and it seemed cruelly poetic that it would also be where everything ended.
Two quick knocks, and Noah dipped inside, crossing the room immediately. I lifted my hands, stopping him before he could touch me, and hurt flashed across his face.
“Bailey, what is going on?” he whispered. “I know today has been intense, but why won’t you let me come near you, baby?”
I swallowed past the growing lump in my throat. Maybe I could brush this off the way I brushed off everything else. Maybe I could push him away without ever acknowledging the truth of what he’d done.
“You met my charming parents. You saw where I come from.” I looked up at the ceiling to keep the tears from falling. “I don’t even know what a loving family looks like. You deserve someone who can give you everything you need, and I don’t think that’s me.”
He dragged a hand down his jaw.
“Why don’t you leave it up to me to decide what I deserve,” he said.
“Because you’re a good man. The best one I’ve ever met. A man who deserves an equally great partner,” I replied.
“I have a great partner,” he shot back. “I already have her, and I’ll be damned if I lose her.”
My emotions were on the verge of overflowing, and I wasn’t going to last much longer in this conversation.
“Let’s just please be adults about this. You got the dreamy summer fling you wanted,” I forced out.
“You want to talk about being adults? How about when I met your parents, and you introduced me as your boss?”
“Because you are my boss,” I snapped. “Nothing has changed about our dynamic since the moment we discovered the truth. They never believed that I could do anything on my own, and I didn’t want them to think I needed you,” I said finally.
“You don’t need me,” he shot back. “You’re the most capable person I know.”
A humorless laugh slipped out of me. “That’s ironic, coming from the man who signs my paycheck.”
His jaw flexed. “And you think that’s what I see when I look at you?”
“What else am I supposed to think?” I asked.
“You think I know a damn thing about warm versus cool lighting?” he asked, stepping closer. “Or the difference between a votive and a hurricane vase?”
I shook my head. “Stop.”
“You’ve been teaching me. I couldn’t have done any of this without you, and you know it. You should be coordinating events for half the town at this rate and charging a fortune to do it.”
We were breathing the same air at this point.
“I’ve watched you outgrow this place for months, Bailey,” he continued, voice low and steady. “You’ve had your own vision since the beginning. Your own way of doing things.”
My stomach twisted.
“Don’t,” I warned.
“You should have your own name on the door,” he said anyway. “Your own business.”
“That’s not realistic.”
“It is,” he said firmly. “And you know it. Stop acting scared, peaches.”
I paced the room, his idea speaking to some hidden part inside of me.
“What if I can’t do it on my own? What if the only reason I succeeded here was because I needed you?” I asked finally.
“What if you do?” he asked quietly. “Need me.”
“That’s not fair, Noah.”
“No, what’s not fair is loving someone who acts like needing me would make her weak.”
My head snapped up, and his words looped in my mind endlessly.
“If anything, I’m the weak one,” he continued, voice breaking. “I would give this all up for you.”
“I saw the email draft.”
“The email—”
Recognition slammed over him like a downpour. He staggered back a step.
“And it’s okay,” I said, even though it absolutely was not okay. “You never gave me any false hope that this would be long-term. I just wish you had talked with me about it.”
He blinked, taking in my words before pulling at the ends of his hair.
“What part of you sleeping in my bed every night, meeting my family, and having my entire life orbit around you made you think this wasn’t long-term, peaches?”
My heart ached at the nickname, wondering how many more times I would get to hear it. A traitorous tear rolled down my cheek, and I knew the dam had broken.
“If you’re going to fire me,” I whispered, “say it with your chest. Own it.”
For a moment, he stared at me. Then he closed the distance between us in two quick strides, grasped my cheeks in his hands, and forced my gaze up to his.
“I’m firing you,” he said, voice steady and wrecked all at once, “because I’m completely in love with you.”
The words washed over me, and I struggled to accept them. Not because I hadn’t suspected or because I didn’t feel the same, but because I didn’t think I deserved them.
“You don’t get to do that,” I breathed.
His thumb brushed beneath my eyes, catching my tears as they fell. “Do what?”
“Drop something like that on me and expect me to survive it.”
He continued to stare at me, patiently waiting for me to pull my thoughts together.
“I don’t know how to let someone love me without thinking they’ll expect something back,” I admitted, and it was the most honest thing I had told myself in a while.
Noah’s hands slid to the small of my back, grounding me, and he rested his forehead against mine.
“I have spent my entire life being too much or not enough,” I whispered. “And if I let myself believe you love me, really love me—” My voice broke. “I wouldn’t survive losing it.”
“Bailey,” he said, and this time my name sounded like a vow. “I already chose you. I chose you the first time you walked into the bar. I chose you when you made mac and cheese with Ma, even though you hate it. I chose you when I realized I couldn’t picture my life without you in it.”
His thumb brushed my cheek again.
“I’m not firing you to push you away,” he said. “I’m firing you so you can make something bigger and better that is all your own and that no one can take away from you. Including me.”
My breath caught.
“You were never meant to work for me forever,” he continued. “You were meant to build something that’s yours.”
He hesitated, shifting his hands down to my hips.
“There’s a space opening up on Bexley Main next month,” he added carefully. “It’s small, but it has big windows and enough room for a consultation area and that elaborate filing system you swear by.”
“What?” I breathed.
“I may have already spoken to the landlord.”
“What? You don’t get to—”
“I’m not buying it for you,” he cut in gently. “I’m investing in you. There’s a difference.”
I searched his face for any hint of obligation and found none—just steady love. Slowly, I slid my hands from where they’d been hovering uselessly between us and pressed them against his chest.
“I love you too,” I said. “I love us, and I want my future to be full of Mario Kart races and late-night reading and playing records too loudly.” I stepped back, cradling his jaw in my hand.
“But I need it to be my decision. I’m not saying no to you, but I am saying I need time to think about it.
To be the driver of the decision-making in my life. ”
He nodded in understanding before pressing his lips to mine. It was salty, a byproduct of my tears, but full of tenderness and warmth.
“Please don’t ever push me away again,” he mumbled against my lips. “Get mad at me. Slam doors. Make me sleep on the couch. But please always come back to me.”
I nodded. “I promise.”
We rejoined the reception, Noah’s hand finding mine more often than not, and Grant brought me over a glass of wine, saying it was well deserved.
Camille caught my eye from across the courtyard, a twinkle there and a Cosmo in her hand. I hoped I’d get to have a relationship with her for the rest of my life. The mayor walked up to Noah and me, a beer in his hand and his dress shirt hanging out of his pants.
He clasped Noah’s shoulder. “You really came through, my boy,” he slurred.
Noah shrugged his hand off. “It’s not me you should be thanking.”
He glanced at me, a smile pulling at his mouth.
“It’s Bailey.”
The mayor turned to me then, raising his beer in a crooked toast. I rolled my eyes but toasted him anyway with a laugh.
For someone who thought she had to be perfect to be loved, Bexley Grove was sure as hell proving me wrong.