When in Rome(72)

“It’s so wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Walker. Do you mind if I stick around and intrude on your lunch date?”

Silvie’s eyes—green like Noah’s but more cloudy in color than his—bounce between us a little nervously. “Of course…you two go on and have a seat. But I’ll warn you, I can’t visit for too long. My grandson and granddaughters will be home from school shortly and I need to finish baking some cookies for them.” She winks at me. “Because all little ones need a cookie now and again when they get home from learning.”

Noah’s fingers squeeze my shoulder lightly and then he lets go of me, gesturing for me to take the chair beside him. “Lucky kids,” he says with a chuckle. “I love cookies.”

Her eyes brighten, and it’s amazing to watch how well Noah knows her. How to disarm her immediately and smooth her worry away. “Well, do you now? I’m more of a pie woman myself. But I do like a good cookie from time to time. I only make ’em because my grandson doesn’t like pie, the little rascal.” She smiles and I can see through her memories how loved Noah was as a child. Still loved…just in a different way.

If he’s hurt by her not realizing that he is her grandson, he doesn’t show it a bit. He crosses a leg over the other and looks at me. “What about you, Amelia? Do you like cookies or pie?”

I give an exaggerated look of consideration before I grin. “You know? I’m more of a pancake gal, actually.”

Silvie raises her eyebrows. “That so? Pancakes are good, too…” she says in a grandmotherly way that makes me feel validated and important.

The conversation continues like this for the next few minutes, and when it’s clear that Silvie starts to feel tired by our visit and look more distant, Noah makes an excuse for us, saying he needs to get back to work. He asks if he can hug her before he leaves and she opens her arms wide to accept him. And then shocks us both by doing the same for me.

And it’s in that moment, locked in Silvie’s warm hug, that I look up and see Noah staring at me, and I could swear his eyes are misty. Gregory Peck’s downcast face flashes in my mind and my heart sinks. I shouldn’t have kissed him. I shouldn’t have let him introduce me to this important part of his life.

It’s going to make it that much more painful when I leave.





Chapter 29


    Noah


“We need to talk,” says Amelia, turning abruptly to corner me by the door as soon as we walk into the house. This isn’t a good, sexy sort of cornering. There’s a heaviness in her eyes and she’s worrying her bottom lip. I extend my hands to rub the sides of her arms, but she shakes her head sharply.

“No, don’t do that,” she says, and the look in her eyes makes me drop my arms by my sides.

I start to panic. Did I do something wrong? Was that kiss in the lake too much? Maybe she wasn’t ready for it and I misread all the signs.

Amelia breathes in deeply and lets it out in one slow exhale. “Noah…”

“I’m sorry,” I blurt, unable to stomach the thought of having pushed her too far or upset her. “I was thoughtless at the lake and I should have explicitly asked what you were comfortable with, and—”

She laughs, cutting off my apology. Her eyes are sparkling with humor, and maybe a drop of sadness. “You think I’m upset about the kiss? Noah, I’m upset because…I like you.” She smiles tentatively. “And I shouldn’t have let you kiss me, because for me, it wasn’t just physical. I have…well, I’ve developed very real feelings for you even though you told me not to.”

Now it’s my turn to expel a heavy breath. I run my hand through my hair and resist the urge to lean back against the door for support. Damn. This is bad. We definitely shouldn’t have kissed. It was okay when it was just a physical urge, but knowing she has feelings for me changes everything.

It’s a problem because I also have feelings for her. Big ones. Inconvenient ones, and I don’t want to do anything about them. Two people can’t live under the same roof for weeks knowing they both have the same feelings and not inadvertently propel their relationship forward. And that’s why I don’t admit to her that I’m crazy about her. That I can barely sleep at night because I lie awake tormented with the thought that she’s sleeping across the hall from me. That I’ve never met anyone who makes me feel the way she does.

“Ameli—”

Her hand races up to press against my mouth. “No. Don’t say anything! You were very clear in the beginning with your intentions, and I don’t expect a single thing from you. Nothing will change. We’re friends, and it’s going to stay that way.” She drops her hand when she feels content that I’m not going to try to interrupt her. “I’m only telling you now because I need for us to set up some rules from here on out so I’m not tempted for us to cross the line again.”

“Rules,” I say, not liking the way that word sounds coming out of my mouth. “Like what?” I ask while going into the kitchen for a beer, because something tells me I’m going to need it.

Amelia follows me and sits on the barstool under the island while I pull two beers from the fridge. She accepts hers and takes a long drink before setting it down firmly on the counter, wincing when she adds a little too much force to it and nearly cracks the bottle.