30. Riley
On Saturday morning,I wake up early to a text from Noah.
NOAH: Not sure if you have time today, but you should come over to my house. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.
The structure is a little bit formal for Noah, who’s typically more laid back over text—especially with me. But he’s right; it has been a while, even though I now live right next door to him, and there’s really no excuse for that.
ME: You’re right, lol. In my defense, I’ve been really busy with work.
ME: But I can come over today, I have some time before I volunteer at the shelter!
I close my phone, not waiting for his response. I get dressed quickly, eager to finally take advantage of Cole’s proximity to Noah.
When I get downstairs, Cole and Archie are both already awake. Since it’s my day off, nobody could fault me for getting up late, but these two are eternal early birds—even on a Saturday, with Cole not working for once and Archie’s preschool closed, they never stay in bed past eight.
“Good morning, Riley,” Archie says through a mouthful of Cheerios.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” I chide him, grinning. “But good morning to you, too.” I glance over at Cole, who’s sitting at the table opposite Archie. “And to you, as well.”
He smiles back at me. Ever since the night he found me in the closet, things have been much better between us. The coolness that I felt from him the week after the silent auction has faded.
He’s still busy with work, of course—I don’t expect that will ever end—but he’s been coming to my room after he returns every night.
“I’m heading over to Noah’s,” I say, waving my phone. “He invited me this morning.”
“That’s great,” Cole replies. “Have fun.”
“You guys, too.”
“We’re going to the park today!” Archie announces brightly.
Cole raises an eyebrow at him. “That’s the first I’m hearing of this,” he says. “The park, huh?”
“Sounds like you guys have some plans to figure out,” I say with a laugh. “Good luck.”
On my way out of the door, my phone chimes again. I glance down at it, expecting to see a text from Noah. Instead, it’s Olivia—and there’s a picture attached.
As I walk over to Noah’s house, I open the photo. I’m startled when I realize that it’s a picture of me, standing next to Cole and Archie at the silent auction. It’s accompanied by Olivia’s caption.
OLIVIA: Did you see this??? It was in my news feed this morning! So cool!
ME: Oh wow. What’s this for?
OLIVIA: Just an article about the auction, I think. They just happened to use a picture of you guys!
OLIVIA: Probably because of how good that dress looked, lol.
She’s right. I can’t believe how good the dress Cole got me looks in that picture. I look like a million bucks—literally.
When I reach Noah’s front door, there’s a delicious smell wafting in through the open window. He must be cooking again. Figures.
I knock, and hear a clatter from the kitchen, followed by Noah’s voice. “It’s open!”
The second I step inside, I’m hit with a wave of that warm, earthy scent. Are those mushrooms, or something?
Noah is, of course, at the stove. I take a seat at the counter in front of him, a look of mock disapproval on my face.
“You didn’t want to come greet me at the door?”
He gestures to the hot skillet on the stove in front of him, which is filled with a mixture of vegetables—diced tomatoes, sliced mushrooms, and a leafy green vegetable that looks like spinach. “This is on a high heat,” he says indignantly. “I couldn’t step away from it. This isn’t Buckingham Palace—you can let yourself in.”
I roll my eyes. “So welcoming.”
He grins at me, good-natured. “You want a glass of wine, or something? This stuff’s going in omelets with hollandaise sauce, too, if you want to stick around for a bite.”
“That’s tempting,” I admit. “There’s nothing like a Noah Hayes omelet.”
“And how long has it been since you’ve had one?” He turns the medley of vegetables over in the pan, and the oil sizzles. “Gotta refresh your memory, right?”
“Don’t worry,” I tell him. “A million years couldn’t make me forget what a great cook you are.”
“And a million years couldn’t make me forget that you could ruin a bowl of cereal,” Noah replies.
I click my tongue, looking around for something to throw at him before I think better of it—there’s a gas flame right in front of him, and I don’t want to burn down his new house.
“You didn’t answer me,” he says, oblivious to how close he came to disaster. “Wine?”
“Isn’t it a little early?”
“It’s not like you’re driving anywhere,” he coaxes. “Just a glass. Come on, you’re my guest, and I have a bottle open already.” He tilts his head to the counter, where his own glass sits, half empty.
“Fine, fine,” I sigh. “If you’re drinking. What is it, anyway?”
Noah pours me a glass, then hands me the bottle for inspection. It’s a white wine, still chilled as though it’s been sitting in the fridge. I recognize the label from the restaurant’s selection of wines. This is one of the most expensive bottles we had, from an Italian winery.
I whistle appreciatively. “Pulling out all the stops for little old me?”
“I just like the finer things in life, what can I say?” He grins, stirring his vegetables and turning down the heat on the stove.
I take a sip of the wine. It’s perfect—not too sweet, not too acidic, with fruity notes.
As I drink my wine, I watch him cook. He’s genuinely talented at it, and he’s only gotten better with practice. He pours the eggs into a smaller skillet, and as they cook, he flips them without the spatula—just with a flick of his wrist on the pan’s handle.
“Whoa,” I say. “Where’d you learn that trick?”
He scoffs. “I’ve known how to do that for years.”
“Sure you have,” I tease.
He looks up at me, and the humor fades quickly out of his eyes. I frown, suddenly remembering how serious the tone of his text was, and wondering if there’s some other reason he invited me over.
“So,” he says. “Tell me what’s going on between you and my neighbor.”
“Cole?” I blink, taken aback. My heart pounds in my chest. “Nothing.”
He sets the skillet down on the burner, arching a brow. “You sure about that? Because I saw you kissing on the front stoop of his house last night.” He nods over at his kitchen window, which has a plain view of the scene of the crime. “So if that’s nothing, I don’t even know what something would look like.”
Shit.
I smile weakly. “Ah. Well… busted, I guess.”
“Riley,” Noah says, “what’s going on?”
I decide to give him an abbreviated version of what’s going on, leaving out all of the details, all of the ups and downs.
“Cole and I may have slept together,” I admit, taking a quick sip of wine for courage. “And we have an arrangement. It won’t affect other things. It’s not really a big deal.”
He’s silent for a few minutes, focused on his cooking. As he sprinkles fresh cheese over the eggs, he says, “Listen, men like Cole—men like me, so I should know—we can be a little… cold hearted. Distant. Not exactly good boyfriend material.”
“Well, that’s fine,” I say, bemused. “I’m not looking for a boyfriend.”
He carefully folds the omelets in the skillet. “We take what we want, and we’re not used to making sacrifices or compromises,” he says, still wearing a skeptical frown. “I could see it on Cole from a mile away.”
“None of that matters,” I insist. “Whatever’s going on between us, it’s not like that. It’s not a relationship.”
Noah shrugs, portioning out the vegetables into his omelet. “I just want you to be happy, you know? Just looking out for that.”
“I appreciate it,” I tell him sincerely. “But really, it’ll be okay.” Before he can stop me, I pivot the subject away from Cole, focusing instead on his love life. “So is there a special someone in your life yet?”
Noah sighs, a note of impatience slipping into his voice. “Come on, Riley—”
“I’m serious! Don’t you think I deserve to know?”
He shakes his head. “There’s no one in particular. I’ve gone out on dates, and that’s it.”
“Dates?” My eyes go round. “Multiple dates, with one person?”
“No,” he says emphatically. “That’s the point. One date. Two, maximum, but I’m never really feeling the second date.”
“Why not?”
He shrugs, his lips pursed. I can tell that he wants to change the subject, but can’t find an artful way to do it. “I don’t know, okay? Things just haven’t ever clicked.”
I could keep pressing the topic, but I can tell he doesn’t want me to. He was willing to drop the subject of Cole, so I decide to return the favor.
“How much longer do you think those omelets are gonna take?” I ask, leaning over the counter to get a look at the skillet. “I have to volunteer at one o’clock, so I don’t want to leave too late.”
“Oh, they’re pretty much done,” Noah says, visibly relieved. He gestures with his spatula at the table. “Meet me over there, I’ll bring you one.”
I move over to the table with my glass of wine. Noah chats about my volunteering, asking me various questions; I talk to him about his work as we dig into the omelets. Neither of us brings up dating again.
Nonetheless, the entire time, I can’t help thinking about Cole.
I told Noah that everything was okay, and that it wasn’t a big deal, but… I have to be honest with myself.
The only things that have been on my mind all week were the feeling of his hands in my hair, his body pressed against mine, the gentle look in his eyes.
Deep down, I worry that this isn’t nearly as simple as I made it seem.
I think I might be falling for him.