“But,” I added quickly, “I guess crazy work hours would make that tough.”
I meant it casually, but something in his expression shifted—just a flicker—and I immediately wished I hadn’t said anything.
“I’d be fine with either,” I rushed to say, trying to bring the mood back up. “Dog or cat. I’ve actually been thinking I might check out the local shelters when I get home.”
Home. The idea of going back to the townhouse wasn’t as comfortable as it used to be. I was going to have to find somewhere else. Also, a new job.
But we weren’t talking about that now. Keep it fun, Luna. Flirty. Normal.
Why was that suddenly so difficult?
Time to pivot. “I think Babs has officially adopted your mom.”
Noah chuckled. Low, warm. “Yeah. I noticed. It’s good for her, though. Nice to see her talk to someone who isn’t obsessed with cap rates and commercial square footage.”
I smiled. “You’ve never mentioned your dad. Is he?—?”
“Never met the guy.” His response came fast, quiet. “Far back as I can remember, it’s just been the two of us.”
I nodded, letting that settle. “That takes a lot. Raising a kid alone.” It struck me that Gran had raised my mom on her own. It wasn’t something either of them had ever really talked about.
“My mom’s pretty badass .” He grinned a little. “I mean, she got a little help—neighbors, mostly. She studied for her real estate license at night and worked in an office during the day. Just…climbed. Built her whole career from the ground up.”
From what I’d learned, that career now included one of Boston’s top real estate offices.
His voice held admiration. But also…worry. Maybe even a hint of weariness.
“She doesn’t really know how to stop. Still calls the office every morning. Even out here, she’s signed two big commercial listings,” he said with a half-smile. “When she wants something, she digs in. Doesn’t let go.”
I looked at him then—really looked. He wasn’t the kind of man who coasted. Everything about him read capable, steady, and driven.
“Are you thinking about work?” I asked, even though I kind of already knew.
And the way he hesitated—just for a second—landed harder than I expected. Because I recognized it.
That tug of guilt for avoiding…things. The instinct to delay whatever was waiting.
Had I just started doing that on this vacation? Or had I been doing it for months?
Years?
His brows drew together slightly. “Trying not to.”
“Last night, on the way to the winery…” I spoke slowly, cautiously. “Your mom said work took up most of your time. From what she said, it sounds like you’ve been running on fumes for a while.” So much for keeping things flirty and light.
He didn’t speak right away. His jaw ticced. His gaze dropped to the floor, like he was weighing something.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “Maybe.”
A thick silence fell between us.
Then: “Partly. Besides the unavoidable…losses.” His voice seemed to catch. “We’re short-staffed. Nurses burning out. Residents quitting. Endless paperwork. Half the time it feels like I’m fighting insurance companies harder than I’m fighting for patients.” He glanced at me then, the weight of it all visible in his eyes. “For some reason, I thought things would get better once I became an attending. Instead, it’s only gotten worse.”
The unavoidable losses, he’d said. I wanted to ask about those.
Instead, I murmured, “Is it worth it?”
His eyes held mine for a moment before drifting away again. “It has to be,” he said. Quietly.
