I lift my cup to my mouth, taking a sip of my drink as an excuse to get out from under that look. The red I always keep stocked isn’t as good as the champagne I had last night, but that’s probably a good thing since champagne tends to go to my head.
When I hear the back door open, my muscles instantly relax. Noah is back inside. As soon as he reaches the end of the hall at the entrance to the kitchen, his eyes meet mine before they scan my face.
“I’m gonna head up and finish with the couch. Are you two good?” He glances from me to his mom.
“We’re good.” She smiles, and with a jerk of his chin, he heads through the kitchen. A second later, I hear his boots hit the stairs. “Are you still up for making your scones?” Rebecca asks me.
“Yes.” I get off my stool and wash my hands again, then Rebecca and I make blueberry-lemon scones that rival anything I’ve ever purchased from any bakery I’ve been to. Later that night, long after Rebecca has left and I’m in my new bed alone, I lie in the dark, not thinking about my ex. Instead, I think about the kiss Noah and I shared and how much I enjoyed every single second I’ve spent with him.
Which means I fall asleep happy and content, which is something new for me.
BRIDGETT
Stuff
With a cup of coffee in hand, I look up from my computer when the back door opens, then frown when a multitude of voices travel down the hall, along with the sound of shuffling and banging. Curious about what’s going on since Noah came downstairs about twenty minutes ago and went straight outside, I get off my stool and start to head toward the voices.
I don’t make it more than a few steps because a man I don’t know, carrying a stack of familiar-looking shoeboxes, blocks the hall to the garage door.
“Do you know where these go?” he asks, and I start to open my mouth but snap it shut when Noah comes up behind him, holding an armful of clothes that, again, look familiar.
“Just drop everything in the living room, John.”
“Um…what’s going on?” I ask Noah while another man followshim, his arms lined wrist-to-shoulder with different bagsthat I know for sure are the ones I left behind when I moved out of the house I shared with Conner. And I know this because when I was in London a couple of years ago, I purchased two Louis Vuitton bags at Hayes and had them both hand-painted with a pretty floral design by an artist in the store.
“The guys got your shit.” Noah drops what’s in his hands over the back of the couch, then turns to face me. “Or most of it.”
“What?” I look from him to the pile on the couch.
“Your ex had already started to light your stuff on fire by the time we showed up,” John explains before patting Noah on the back. “I’m gonna get the rest from the car.”
“Thanks.” Noah lifts his chin, and John heads down the hall, the other guy following him.
“I’m so confused.” I shake my head, trying to wrap my brain around what’s going on.
“I told you I wasn’t going to confront your ex yesterday. I didn’t tell you I wouldn’t send someone else to do it.” He shrugs.
“So you got my stuff?”
“Technically, John and Ed did.”
“I…I can’t… I don’t know what to say.” I watch John and Ed walk back in, carrying more of my things that they each dump onto the couch.
“You don’t need to say anything,” Ed cuts in, and I look at him. “We were told we’d get cookies as payback.”
“Cookies?” I repeat, trying to keep up, which is difficult when I feel like this is some kind of odd dream.
“I told them you’d make them cookies,” Noah says, and I nod. Because what else am I supposed to do?
“What are those?” Ed asks, and I turn to see him pointing at the scones sitting on a wooden cake plate under a glass dome. It’s something I purchased at one of those stores that has everything from name-brand clothes to cookware at discount prices. Seeing it on the counter now, I bite my lip becausealthough it looks good where it is, it’s fancy and totally screamsa woman lives here, and this is her domain. Not,this is just something a bachelor uses to store cookies or baked goods in so he doesn’t have to go searching for them in the pantry.
“Scones, and you can’t have any,” Noah tells him, and I snap out of my runaway thoughts.
“Don’t say that!” I gasp, turning his way.
“Baby, there are only three left. If they each take one, there’s only one left for me.”
“I can make more.”
