“Back patio okay?” I tilt my head toward the back door, already balancing two plates in one hand, when Noah walks through the door.
“Perfect.” He takes one of the plates before I can drop it. “Smells incredible, by the way.”
I almost tell him I used three cheeses, made the sauce from scratch, and assembled it like a bricklayer with something to prove, but I don’t. No one needs to know I measured the noodle placement like it was an architectural draft. “It was no big deal.”
He stares at the perfectly even dish. “Looks like a big deal. You’re setting a high bar.”
My mouth twitches. High bars are my love language. I once remade an entire casserole because the cheese bubbled unevenly on one side.
We nestle into my worn wicker chairs, plates balancing on knees, Frank curled between us. There’s something about the early evening light, shy of golden hour, that softens everything. Even me.
“Thanks again for the garden rescue.” A light breeze rustles the herbs in their planters, and the porch lights blink on, timed like a memory.
Noah nods, and for a while, we eat in comfortable silence. The lasagnaisslightly burnt around the edges. Victory.
Then Noah breaks the quiet. “You know what’s funny? When Owen told me he’d scored your number, I didn’t believe him. I thought you were completely out of his league.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Yeah, right.”
“No, I mean it.” A gentle smile skates across his face, warm in the sunlight. “You’d shown up at my dorm room because your roommate was getting it on, and Owen finally showed up like six weeks into the term after his mono. I was out at the library and next thing I knew, I was walking in on you talking about Suzanne Valadon with him like she was your soul sister.”
I laugh. “God, I was insufferable.”
“Maybe.” He grins. “But captivating. With that wild perm and deep brown eyes, I thought you were going to conquer the world.”
A brittle laugh leaves my lips, and its bitterness surprises me. “Yep. That’s me. Taking over the world, one dirty diaper, PTA meeting, and perfectly curated dinner at a time.”
Noah leans close, our arms almost brushing as he stretches across his wicker chair toward mine. “That's not an easy world to conquer. I haven’t found a single person I’d like to enter that world with and now I think it’s a little late.”
The words hang between us like something delicate and dangerous. I reach for my lemonade, trying to swallow the lump in my throat with the ice.
The intimacy scares me, and I retreat. “I forgot that’s when we met.” I set my empty plate down and start twisting a dark strand of hair around my finger, the wedding band I haven't taken off glimmering in the fading sunlight. “I remember Owen trying to impress me with bad metaphors and talking over everyone.”
“He was good at making an entrance.”
I nod. “And I was good at pretending I didn’t like it.”
Noah leans back against the wicker seat, the wood creaking slightly beneath his weight. “You two were something, though.Volatile and golden. Like you’d either take over the world or burn it down together.”
My smile is soft now, touched with something else, the wedding band pressing into my finger. “We almost did both.”
“Remember the first night we met?”
My breath catches, heat pooling at the back of my neck.
“How could I forget?” I laugh, but the undertone is nostalgic now, pulled from a place that aches a little. “I was so sure I had this whole college thing figured out. I knew exactly where I was going with my little map, first week on campus, ready to conquer the world, and I walked straight into the wrong dorm room, not even the right building.”
Noah chuckles, leaning back, his elbows braced on the creaking wicker armrests. “I’d just finished unpacking and was laying down to rest and there you come, sauntering into my room like you own the place, staring at my Pearl Jam poster like it had personally offended you.”
I close my eyes, letting the memory rush back in: the stale hallway air, the too-big map of campus stuffed in my pocket, the unlocked door that I thought was mine, until a sleepy boy with dark tangled hair and a crooked grin sat up in bed and asked,“You planning to rob me, or…?”
“I had made a terrible life choice, choosing West instead of East,” I tease, nudging his ankle with my toe from across the porch. “But you didn’t even yell at me. Just sat up wearing nothing but those basketball shorts and asked if I was there to steal your ramen.”
“Hey. Moving was hard work and I was sweaty and gross and not at all ready to face the communal showers.” He tips his head back, eyes closing, grinning like he’s twenty again. “And what was I gonna do, kick out the prettiest girl I’d ever seen? Besides, my roommate wasn’t showing up till the next day, so technically, I had the whole room to myself.”
“Right.” My voice catches again. “Owen. He is always late. Was always late.”
Noah’s smile flickers, but he doesn’t look away. “Yeah. But in his defense, he did have mono and missed the first few months. It wasn’t poor planning. Well, unless you count sharing a straw with Sarah Finney poor planning. Left me to guard lost freshmen and make sure they didn’t wander into the wrong bed.”
