His grin widened even more, and he stepped up onto the stoop with me, sharing the space toe to toe. He wrapped one of his arms around my waist. “Now what?”
“Now... Now you’re inmyhome.”
“True. You can send me away if you want. But it is Friday. And I don’t have to be back in Cambridge at all this weekend.”
“No?” I tilted my face up.
He tilted his face down. “No.”
And then we were kissing, so easily, like we’d been born to kiss each other. Heat uncurled deep in my belly and I pushed onto my tiptoes so I could press closer against him.
When we separated to breathe, I realized we were standing there on the doorstep, in full view of anyone passing by. “Do you want to come in?”
“Sure. Is anyone else home?”
“My mom.”
“Do I get to meet her?”
“If you’re lucky.” I led him inside, and he looked about curiously. I took him to the living room, where the necklace lay gleaming up at us. “It seems like cheating.” I said. “To be willing to give the necklace up, and to get it back.”
“You could give it to a museum. Or sell it again.”
“I could.” I smiled up at him. “But I guess I’ll keep it.”
The corners of his mouth curved ever so slightly. “You guess?”
“It does have some sentimental value. For my family.”
“For your mom, maybe.”
“Exactly. Actually—one second.”
“What?”
“Stay right here.” I kissed him quickly, then planted my hands on his chest and studied his eyes. I’d never told a boy I’d loved him before today, and it felt good. Right. “I love you,” I said again, firmly.
He kissed me again, this time slow and thorough, so thorough I almost forgot what I’d meant to do. When he finally let me go, he said, “I love you, too.”
“Good,” I said, grinning. Grabbing the necklace box, I snapped it shut, blew Noah a last kiss, and ran upstairs to my mom’s office. With my free hand, I swung around the doorframe. “Hi.”
She looked up. “Hi, sweetie. What’s up?”
“Got you a present.”
“And it’s not even my birthday.” She looked wary, which, understandable. Had I ever gotten her a present spontaneously? Probably not. Maybe something I should start doing. Also, now did not count as starting.
I handed her the box, beaming. “Open it.”
Still wary, she drew up the lid. For a moment, she stared inside the case with an expression of bewilderment, before transferring her gaze to me. “How...?”
“It’s from Noah.”
“Noah—” Comprehension dawned, and she looked queasy. “Heboughtit? It sold for six figures.”
“Don’t think about the money right now,” I said quickly. “It’s here. It’s ours. It’s yours, from O’ma.”
“I’m still thinking about the money.”
