“She’s lovely.” Romana sighs wistfully and closes the book.
“Thank you, Ramona. For looking at my sketches, for your encouragement. It means more than you know.” I take my portfolio back and she stands to show me out. We say goodbye, and I promise I’ll check in with her right after the holidays. “Merry Christmas,” I tell her.
As I leave Ramona’s house, my mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and possibilities. The cold air helps clear my head a bit, but I still feel slightly off balance, as if the ground has shifted beneath my feet. It’s dark out, with a sky full of stars over my head. I can’t believe I was with Ramona for that long—it felt like just minutes.
I check the time. The float deadline has come and gone. My stomach growls. I haven’t eaten since the cookie. I text Paige.
Me: Would you like to meet me at Casa Ramirez for dinner?
Paige: Be there in five.
Me: ??
Looks like I have a date with my girlfriend.
Now all I have to do is let her know that we’re that serious. After the way she kissed me earlier, it might not be that hard of a sale. I’m more confused than ever about the trip though. How am I going to get a new business off the ground if I’m in another part of the world and focused on Paige’s channel?
My phone buzzes.
Paige: Can you pick me up?
Me: Of course.
I pick up the pace. There are so many things to discuss with her that I can hardly wait.
Eighteen
NOAH
My heart races with excitement as I approach Paige’s parents’ house. The conversation with Ramona Summers replays in my mind, each word filling me with a newfound sense of possibilities. My fingers itch to grab a pencil to capture the joy bubbling up inside me in sweeping lines and delicate shading.
I pause at the front gate, taking in the sight before me. The large, modern farmhouse-style home is a beautiful blend of rustic charm and contemporary elegance. A warm glow emanates from the large windows, and I can see shadows moving inside, hinting at the life and activity within. A wreath made of pinecones and red berries hangs on the front door, its cheery appearance a stark contrast to the butterflies in my stomach. As much as I knew talking to Ramona was the right thing to do, I also know that I’m supposed to be with Paige.
Taking a deep breath, I make my way up the path and ring the doorbell. The sound of running feet and high-pitched laughter reaches me even before the door swings open, revealing a young boy with tousled blonde hair and bright, curious eyes.
“Hi!” he chirps, looking up at me with unbridled excitement. “Who are you?”
A smile tugs at my lips; the child’s enthusiasm is adorable. Before I can respond, a woman’s voice calls out from inside, “Tayden! What have I told you about opening the door to strangers?”
A harried-looking woman appears behind the boy, scooping him up into her arms. Her eyes meet mine, and a flash of recognition crosses her face. “Oh. You must be Noah. Paige mentioned you were stopping by.”
I nod, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the palpable energy emanating from the house. For the first time, I wonder if my sensitivity to these things is tied to my artistic soul. The joy that flows out the front door like a pent-up river would play into how I would draw this moment. “Yes, that’s me. Is Paige here?”
The woman shifts Tayden to her hip. “I’m Sarah, Paige’s sister-in-law. Come on in; I’ll let her know you’re here.”
I step inside, and the warmth and liveliness of the home wraps me up and makes me part of it. I did not grow up in a house that felt like this. I don’t remember my brother or sister’s friends ever wanting to hang out at our stark and efficient house.
The entryway opens into a spacious open-plan living area, where rustic wooden beams contrast beautifully with sleek, modern furnishings. A massive stone fireplace dominates one wall, its crackling flames casting dancing shadows across the room.
The air is thick with the aroma of baking cookies. Christmas music plays softly in the background, nearly drowned out by the cacophony of voices and laughter. Two more children are engaged in what appears to be an epic pillow fight on the large sectional sofa, while a man I assume is Paige’s brother attempts to referee while simultaneously hanging Christmas lights.
For a moment, I feel my old self creeping in—the quiet, reserved Noah who would rather observe from the sidelines than dive into the fray.
“Noah!” Paige calls out, emerging from what looks like a home office. Her face lights up when she sees me, and suddenly, the chaos around us fades into the background.
She makes her way over to me, deftly sidestepping a toy car that goes whizzing past her feet. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she says, reaching out to squeeze my hand. The warmth of her touch sends a thrill through me, chasing away any lingering nervousness.
Paige’s eyes search my face, and I see a flicker of concern. “You okay?”
