“I’m . . . okay. Really fucking scared. But okay. Noah is convinced that we can do this, one step at a time, and he’s”—I pause again, trying to wrap words around what Noah is—“Very convincing.”
“Eee!” Kara shrieks and kicks her feet. “Okay. Tell me about the sex.”
“That is one side of things I can’t deny. The sex is good. Really fucking good.”
“Better or worse than Therese?”
I think back to the series of one nighters I spent with Therese—the never ending orgasms and late night munchies. She was good. But Noah is . . .
“Better.”
“Damn.”
Yeah. Damn indeed.
Despite Kara’s insistence that I wouldn’t need more than a few hours to get set up, I was up before the sun and dressed in another set of grubby work clothes with a bag packed with what I’ll wear for the actual party. Our efforts yesterday did pave the way for setting up and decorating this afternoon, but I am determined to make sure everything is perfect.
Announcing that Noah and I are dating is one thing, but showing him the place that built me is another thing entirely and I don’t want to fuck it up.
As I pull my keys out and unlock the doors for the second time, it still feels unreal. Even when I’m elbow deep in cleaning supplies and taking the bathrooms from horror movie to well-loved, I’m buzzing with how incredible everything is. The hours are marked by the number of buckets full of dirty water I dump in the kitchen’s utility sink, and before I know it we’re in the final hour before the party is set to begin.
Henrietta arrives first, dressed in a vintage polka dot dress, her hair freshly styled. She whistles as she steps through the doors.
“Lottie, look at you! I wasn’t sure what to think when Kara told me what was happening, but my god you’re really doing it.”
“I am,” I say, beaming.
“What can I do?”
“The counter could probably use another wipe down. I think Kara said the food should be here about six fifteen, and I want to have a place to put everything.”
She nods, and slouches out of her jacket before grabbing a pack of wipes. My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out to find a message from Noah, with a selfie of him standing at the florist, holding an excessive bouquet.
Noah
Think Nan will accept me if I bring these or should I opt for wine instead?
Lottie
Flowers are a little much, but she’ll adore them.
Noah
Still ready for me at seven?
Lottie
Yes. Don’t be late.
Noah
Wouldn’t dream of it.
“Looks like it’s about time. You should go change,” Henrietta says, nodding towards the front windows. Greg and Flora, two of Nan’s church friends, are helping each other up the curb. Flora has a casserole dish propped in her arm.
“Everyone ignored the part of the invite that said no potluck dishes didn’t they?”
Henrietta laughs on her way to open the door for them. “We are creatures of habit.”
