"Dangerous?" I arch a brow. "I thought it made me wholesome."
"Oh, it's wholesome," she says. "That's why it's dangerous."
My throat goes tight in a way that has nothing to do with wine or candlelight.
She tips her head. "So, were you born in Saltford Bay?"
Rika rests her forearms on the edge of the table, eyes on me. She's genuinely curious and I try not to bask in her attention.
I fail.
"No," I say. "I came here to live with my Gramps when my parents passed. I was seven. Car accident."
Her fingers curl around the stem of her wineglass, but she doesn't lift it.
"Oh, Noah." Her voice softens. "I'm so sorry."
"It was hard," I admit, and my mouth feels too dry all at once. "But Gramps brought me here and made it his life's mission to raise me. He made sure I always felt loved and wanted."
Rika's gaze holds mine, steady and intent. "He sounds like an incredible man."
"He was." I manage a small smile. "He showed me that a man can and should be caring. I never got the sense that it wasn’t a man’s job to run around after-school activities or cook or clean. He did it all in his manly, growly way."
Rika's expression softens with understanding. "That's a beautiful way to remember him."
"He did a good job with me," I say. "At least, I like to think so."
Heat spreads through my chest, sharp and unexpected. As she takes a sip of wine, I can't help but watch the way her lips close around the rim.
"You're amazing with the kids," she adds, like she'stryingto make my heart stutter. "The way Matthew relaxes around you?The way Zoe actually listens when you don't even raise your voice?" She gives a little shake of her head. "He would have been proud of you."
"He never expected me to be a nanny," I say, chuckling. "He was the man with a plan, and I didn't exactly follow the plan. But he was always supportive."
Her brows lift. "So why didn't you?"
I blink. "Why didn't I—"
"Follow your plan," she clarifies, leaning in just a little bit more, her wings giving the faintest flutter behind her. "To become a teacher."
I shrug, because it's easier than admitting how much this question still stings. Gramps asked it every chance he got, too.
"After graduation, a friend's sister needed emergency childcare," I say. "Like, right now or she'd lose her job. I took it on a temporary basis. Then when she got back on her feet, I was offered another position." I glance down at the table. "And then another."
Rika's expression doesn't go pity-soft. It turns thoughtful. Like she's piecing me together.
"I loved it," I quickly add. "I still do. I'm good at it, but it’s always temporary." My fingers tighten on my water glass. "I kept telling myself I'd go back to teaching eventually, and then eight years passed."
"Because you were needed," she says.
"Yeah." The word comes out quiet. Honest. "And because it was easier to be needed than to figure out what I want."
Rika's eyes soften at the edges. "So what do you want now?"
I draw in a breath. The answer is clearer than it's ever been.
"That teaching position at the middle school…" I say. "I want it. I'm ready for it."
Her face brightens in a way that feels like a hand on my back.
