Chapter 37 Like Coming Home
Birds are chirping outside my open window when I wake the morning of our trip, summer peaking out from behind the gray clouds. I pull myself out of bed, slow and relaxed. Our flight isn’t until noon, and I’m mostly packed.
I decided to check a bag because Kara talked me into the adventure package, so I’m prepared for anything from trekking up a volcano to lounging poolside with a drink in my hand.
It took us nearly two weeks to plan the damn thing, but it’s finally here.
Two full weeks in Costa Rica. I don’t think I’ve ever been more relaxed or excited in my life.
Once out of the shower, I dress in my most comfortable shorts and a racerback tank—and because airports are notoriously chilly, I tie a thin sweatshirt around my waist.
Kara is also up, sipping coffee out of her lizard mug. “Morning,” she chimes.
“Good morning. You packed?”
“Yep! And all of our important paperwork—tickets, passports, and itineraries are all gathered and set by the door.”
“Look at you.”
She shrugs. “This is a once in a lifetime trip. Not something you want to blunder because of paperwork.”
I laugh at the painful irony. Blundering with paperwork is a new fear.
“No. Indeed it is not.”
Settling into the seat across from her, I scroll on my phone and sip my coffee. “Mmm, did you send Henrietta a copy of our itinerary?”
“Yep. Laminated and posted on her fridge.”
“Good.”
“Have you thought anymore about what you’re going to do when we get back?”
I make a face. “Meh. I’ve applied to a few jobs here and there, but haven’t found anything that sparks much.”
“I mean”—she pauses—“you do still have the education and capital to run your own business.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Yes, but doing what?”
She shrugs again. “I dunno. I suppose you can use the next few weeks to tap into your passion. We’ll brainstorm it on the flight.”
“Like you’re not going to be tipsy by the time we take off.”
“You’re the one who chose first class. Those complimentary drinks aren’t going to drink themselves.”
Booking the tickets was another painful prick, reminding me of Noah and how I told him he ruined me for flying commercial. I figured, though, first class might make up for the struggles of security and checking a bag.
“I did.”
“Oh hey,” she says. “Henrietta called me last night. She needs us to meet her at Nan’s on our way out of town. Something about a closet we missed in our clean up? She doesn’t want to get rid of anything without talking to you first.”
Right. Nan’s house is going up for sale next week.
I considered keeping it, and even asked Kara if she’d want to move in there with me.
But, our current house is bigger and buying out our lease so we could move was more money than either of us want to spend.
The decision to sell wasn’t easy, but I figure another family could use the safe place to land.
“What on earth could we have missed? I walked through every room myself just the other day.”
Kara shrugs and pushes up from the table. “I don’t know but I’m going to shower. If we want to have time to stop, we’ll have to leave soon.”
With our bags packed into the trunk of Kara’s Honda, we maneuver towards Nan’s. I realize too late that she’s turned down the street with the diner.
I’m not exactly avoiding it, but I’m also not not avoiding it. It might be the place that raised me, but it’s also the place where my world fell apart. Figuring it will be covered in plastic sheets and construction debris, I hold my breath and stare straight ahead.
However, as Kara passes the familiar red and white awning, not only is there no sign of renovations, the For Lease sign is back in the window.
I slouch back against the seat, wondering if the construction delays are intentional or because of some other mishap.
It shouldn’t matter, but it’s not like I want to see Flourish fail.
Kara turns onto Nan’s street and parks in front of the faded blue house.
The white porch, sagging under the summer sun, pulls at the still raw spot in my chest. I spent almost every June sitting on this very porch with a glass of lemonade in one hand and a brownie in the other.
We climb the stairs and push into the house, the empty rooms feeling vast.
“Henrietta?”
We fan out, the house only so big. Turning into the bright yellow kitchen, my heart stops, and then thumps erratic and wild as I absorb what I’m seeing.
Noah stands facing me with his back to the window above the sink.
“Wha—Kara!”
I spin around and she flashes a grin before ducking out of the front door. I’m considering marching out there and demanding an answer when his voice freezes me in place.
“Charlotte.”
I close my eyes against the barrage of emotion.
He’s real. He’s here. I turn, taking a breath before opening my eyes again.
Noah remains still, looking too tall for this little kitchen and filling the space with everything that makes him, him.
Fighting against the painful comparison of both Nan and Noah standing in this spot, and knowing they won’t ever be here together, I chew on my cheek.
“What are you doing here?”
“Kara called me.”
“How did you get in?”
His lip quirks. “Henrietta.”
Those two. Still, his answers explain how he’s here, but not why. As if he can read the confusion, he continues.
“You weren’t returning my calls.”
“I blocked your number.”
He nods. “I deserve that.”
A beat of silence.
“I canceled the contract for Nan’s.”
I cross my arms, unsure I want the apology that I know is coming. Unsure I can handle it.
“I was sorry to hear about her passing. I wanted to come to the funeral—to be there for you. But I wasn’t sure you would want me there and coming to explain all that while you were grieving felt like the wrong choice.”
I nod, confirming his assumptions.
“Are you doing okay?”
His question hits me square in the chest—simple, direct; it’s Noah encapsulated. Not sure he deserves the answer, I press again.
“Why are you here?”
“I want to apologize.”
“So you didn’t go through with buying the diner. I suppose you’ve come to make some earth shattering confession. To promise me the future you stole.”
My accusations burn across my tongue, and from the look on his face, land with the precision I was hoping for. “This isn’t a movie, Noah. I told you before we even tried this, I’m not that girl. I’m not the one who waits by the phone for the hero to call and confess his love. I don’t need you.”
Noah steps towards me, but doesn’t reach out—just closes the distance.
“I’m not going to tell you that I love you, Lottie, because I’m not going to use the way I feel about you as a weapon. I want to mean it when I say it, and want it to be something more than a desperate attempt at getting you back.”
Well, there’s something. I pull my arms tighter and bite the inside of my cheek as he continues.
“But I will tell you this. I love being with you. I love the way you smell; like coconuts and rain and how it makes being with you like going on an adventure and coming home all at once. I love how you weigh every option and the way your cheek quirks in when you do it. I love the way you instinctively challenge things—how you refuse to accept anything less than security for yourself, and how you dream of a world where everyone has exactly that. I love your determination, and how you won’t let anything stand in your way.
I love that you challenged me, demanded that I choose.
Hell, I even love that you walked away when I didn’t immediately choose you.
It was brave, and strong, and so completely you. ”
My chest cinches again, but not because of grief or pain; because of the way Noah is detailing me, really seeing me in the way I’ve always craved. The way he always has.
“I hate myself, Lottie. I hate myself for choosing what I thought was the best for Flourish, when I knew it meant crushing you. I hate that despite every intention not to, I was turning into my father. I hate the way I chose anything other than you when it really mattered. And worse, how it meant not being there for you when you needed me. I hate the way you’re the best I’m ever going to have and that it might be too late. ”
As his proclamation settles, the words from Nan’s letter, the one she wrote before I ever met Noah, come floating back.
Not everyone sets out to hurt you, and holding their own flaws against them hasn’t done anything but continue to let that hurt fester.
Noah’s biggest flaw, as well as his sweetest attribute, is his drive for perfection; his drive for finding the best. Could I be the person who penalizes him for it?
“I don’t hate you,” I say. “I probably should. But I don’t.”
Noah offers a smile and I uncross my arms, dropping them to my sides.
“But you fucked up. Really fucked up.”
He reaches for me now, catching my hand. “I know. I’m sorry. I can’t even begin to express how sorry.”
The apology hits me like his asking if I’m okay, square in the chest and in the way that proves he means it. His gray eyes track over my face, his other hand reaching for my cheek. When his palm makes contact, I instinctively lean into it.
“Can you forgive me?”
“I want to.”
With his eyes still glued to mine, he leans in and closes the distance, our lips meeting.
It’s hesitant at first, like he’s giving me a chance to retract.
But in the next second, when I don’t, it intensifies and he’s pressing me up against the door frame.
My instinct is to inflict pain, to nip and draw blood—proving I can hurt him too.
I know he’d take it, I know I could lean into the vindictive edge and really make him suffer.
But as the old pain surges up, Noah sweeps it away.
Stealing my breath and the desire to inflict hurt, he kisses me until it’s gone.
All that’s left between us now is the heartbreaking promise of what could be, sweeter now because of what’s been.
Breaking to catch my breath, I put my palms on his chest. He leans his forehead on mine, his eyes closed, a sweet smile curving his lip.
“You really took a chance coming here,” I say, waving my hand towards Nan’s kitchen.
“I wouldn’t have if it weren’t for Kara. I was ready to be miserable forever if it meant not hurting you again.”
Kara’s careful probing over the past few weeks comes back, my smile deepening at her sneaky ways. She knows me better than anyone, and she could tell my stubbornness was keeping all of this at arm’s length.
“I suppose she’s driven us together twice now.”
Noah chuckles. “I owe her a big thank you.”
“Massive.”
Then, as if shocked back into reality I stand up straight, twisting Noah’s wrist to check the time. “Shit! I have to go.”
Kara pops back into the front door, my screeching summoning her from the porch. I twist and peck Noah on the cheek.
“We have a trip. A flight to catch in about an hour. We have to go.”
“I know,” he says. He flashes a look at Kara and she grins. “How about I start on that thank you right now.”
I raise an eyebrow. “And how do you expect to do that? You’re not the only one with money now,” I tease. “I booked this trip all by myself.”
“I’m aware,” he says. “But I am the only one with a contact at the best resort in Costa Rica. Hey, Kara, how does two weeks in your own, all inclusive, beachfront suite sound? ”
“As long as I can drink, and don’t have to listen to you two bangin’ in the next room over, I’m game for whatever.”
I laugh and Noah takes my hand again, tugging me towards the door. When I pause at the threshold, he kisses my temple and follows Kara down to the car, their voices wafting back towards me.
“I don’t know if Lottie has told you, but I have a low tolerance for shenanigans while I’m trying to sleep,” Kara says.
“I have a lot of groveling to do. We’ll get you some really good noise canceling headphones.”
Rolling my eyes at what I know is going to be my future playing peacemaker between the two of them, I turn back towards the empty living room and the yellow glow of the kitchen. Nan is here. In this moment and sending me off with the same kind of warm approval she always did.
And somehow I know, from the comfort of this little safe haven and into the wild canyon of the unknown, she’ll be with me always.