“Well, Mrs. Smith’s blood pressure is finally down. But Mr. Smith’s rash is not—he’s convinced it’s from the hospital detergent, so he’s refusing to wear a gown. And Little Jonesy—the kid with the toe infection? Tried to bribe me with a Snickers if I told his mom it was caused by a spider.”
Noah calls all his patients either Smith or Jones. It’s a patient privacy thing.
He regaled me with a few other stories, keeping me up on some of his favorite patients while we set the table together.
For the first month, when he’d been working out his notice up in Boston and we had only recently gotten together, he’d tried not to talk about work at all. And when he had, it had mostly been about the problems there—the politics, the budget cuts, the layoffs. I was so glad he was out of that environment now, even though the patients up there had lost a great doctor.
Noah topped up my glass of wine and leaned back. “Did you figure out your saffron-and-lemon risotto?” he asked.
“I added a little more parmesan and a touch of white pepper, and it’s pretty much perfect.”
He glanced up. “I get it for lunch tomorrow?”
“Absolutely.” It was one of the perks. “Oh, Ashley’s coming down this weekend with the twins,” I added, dabbing the napkin at my mouth. I frowned. “But…something’s off. She says it’s to work on the wedding stuff, but I’m not sure that’s it. Beckett never comes with her.”
He looked up from his plate. “You think something’s going on?”
I bit my lip. “She says everything’s fine. And maybe it is. But I don’t know...I just want her to be okay.”
“She’s got you. That helps.” Noah always knew how to make me smile.
"Tay emailed this morning,” I said. “She finally booked her flight. She says she’s got some time off, so she’ll definitely be at the wedding.”
"That’ll be great to see her."
"And Babs. Of course."
Babs, who I now knew was a permanent fixture in Mom’s life.
But thoughts of our guest list vanished when Noah reached across the table and grabbed my hand. And then pressed a kiss on the back of my fingers.
“I can’t wait to make us official,” he murmured.
My heart… Oh, the love, it just kept growing. And I hadn’t thought that was possible. This feeling surprised me every day. Sometimes more than once.
June was coming fast, and with it, our wedding cruise. A small affair—just family and a few friends. Nothing public. Nothing performative.
"You know," I said, studying him, "I used to think love was about sacrifice—so much work. Like everything had to be perfect, but also holding back, to make space for the other person. Does that make sense?"
"Yeah?"
I nodded. "But with you, it’s like...a hundred and a hundred. Both of us showing up. Whole. Not perfect. But all in. And it isn’t work at all. Because I want this…more than anything else."
This time, Noah leaned all the way across our small table and kissed me. Another promise.
"That’s what I want too," he said.
I held on to him, my hand around his neck, my fingers brushing his skin, playing with the ends of his hair.
"I am so glad we were roped into that bus tour,” I murmured against his mouth.
Best decision I’d ever made.
He stood, sliding his chair back without a sound, and came around the table. I was already rising, untying my apron and tossing it aside, meeting him in the middle.
One arm curved around my waist, pulling me flush against him. With the other, he reached for his wine glass and lifted it between us, eyes never leaving mine.
“To the ride of our lives,” he said.
