I looked at the romantic picnic he’d set up just for us. How could I be mad at my dad for giving him the opportunity to surprise me? How could I be mad at anyone when I was so happy? “Of course not,” I assured him. “But I am going to be mad at you if you don’t open that picnic basket. I’m starving.”
Noah grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the two-seat lounger. We plopped down together, and he pulled the picnic basket closer.
He opened it and started pulling out container after container. Not a single container was from a restaurant, meaning that the menu had been carefully curated and built specifically for us. I watched as he opened each of the containers. There were the ham and cheese pinwheels we’d had on our first picnic at the rock on the beach where we shared our first kiss.
There was an antipasto salad I recognized from one of his family events. I remembered going with him, meeting his aunts,uncles, and cousins, and filling up on this salad. I’d begged Nonna for the recipe, and she’d finally given it to me just before she left King’s Bay. Noah had said it was the highest sign of approval because his grandmother did not share her recipes with just anyone. I wondered if she’d give me recipes now, after I’d broken her beloved grandson’s heart. I had a feeling it would take time to earn that honor back. I was willing to work for it, to prove myself again to Nonna.
Every dish he pulled out held another memory. He’d created a timeline of food, highlighting moments of the past relationship. It was an edible reminder of the foundation we were building on. He’d even cut up the same fruit we’d shared in his bed a few weeks into my stay with him. It wasn’t just our past relationship that was on display in front of me, a story told in food he’d lovingly crafted. It was our current one too.
I looked at the spread and back over at him. “You made all of this?”
“With Moira. She sat up for hours with me last night while I cooked. Kept me company from New York.”
So, this was the result of his phone call with his best friend the night before. I leaned in and gave him a kiss. We loaded up our plates, and he poured a glass of the wine he’d brought for us. Even with two of us, we didn’t even make a dent in the food he’d brought. “You realize you cooked way too much, right?”
“We’ll have leftovers.”
“For how many?”
He laughed and shrugged. “Worst case, you can make some doggy bags up for your friends. You said Eli and Holden never have home cooked food, right?”
“They do. When Eli’s mom is in town and makes it.”
“Then we can pack some of this up for them if we need to. And Seb and Jonas and their boyfriends.”
The fact that he was thinking about my friends as the first line of getting rid of the excess amounts of food he’d brought warmed me. Lucas had always had his insecurities about my friendship. He hadn’t liked how often we’d gone out, the weekly outings that I would rarely schedule around unless it was some big occasion like the year his birthday fell on a Thursday. It was like the captain’s hat that was a gift from my ex-girlfriend. It hadn’t affected Noah in the slightest.
I reached across the table and started packing the food away. Noah started helping moments later, tucking everything neatly into the picnic basket. Once we had everything put away, he pulled me into his chest.
I listened to the sound of his heartbeat through the fabric of his shirt, the sound of the water gently lapping at the side of my boat, the birds, and the wind. It was peace. It was happiness.
This was the kind of love I’d dreamed about for years, the kind of love I’d always wanted. This was the kind of love I could build forever around. All my past relationships had been missing something, something I could never put my finger on. Whatever it was, it wasn’t missing with Noah. He was the only person I’d ever found it with.
We sat like that for a long time, the silence broken up with the occasional short conversation or kiss that turned into making out. When the sun started to set, he turned on the fairy lights. The twinkling lights brought a small smile to my lips, but it was a sign that we needed to head back soon. I sighed and pushed myself off him. “We should head back soon.”
“Not yet,” he protested. “I’m liking this.”
“Me too.”
“I’ve got something else for you, too.” Was I imagining the nerves in his voice? I reached over and rested my hand on his knee. I had no idea why he might be nervous, but I didn’t like it.He covered his hand with mine for a moment before lifting my hand off his leg. “Sit up?”
I sat.
I sat and watched as he rose from the comfort of our lounger. I watched as he dug a small bag out from behind the cushion storage container. Whatever gift he had was tucked away in there, and I was as eager as a child on Christmas morning to know what it was.
He turned his back to me as he dug whatever it was out, and by the time he turned around, there was nothing in his hand. I scowled, and he mouthed a single word at me.
Patience.
Did he not know me? I had never been a patient person, and I doubted I would become one in whatever time it took for him to show me what he’d tucked away.
I didn’t know if it was anticipation or Noah that made his trip back across the small roof take double the usual amount of time. I kept my eyes trained on him as he drew closer, studying him for anything that could give away what the present might be. Whatever it was had to be small enough to fit in his pockets, but I’d watched him stick water bottles in his hoodie pocket, so that didn’t rule out a lot.
When he finally reached me, he took a deep breath. I watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed on the inhale and the way his nostrils flared when he exhaled. He was nervous.
What in the world could have him so nervous?
My mind raced through possibilities, each one more implausible than the last, but not a single one comparing to the reality of him sinking down to one knee in front of me. My eyes widened in disbelief, and my heart slammed against my rib cage.
