Always the Last to Know(97)

It had been so long.

Our kissing was slow and hot, and yet I was desperate for him. I’d missed him so much, my wild boy. One of my hands clenched in his hair, and the other was against his neck, feeling the fast, hard thud of his pulse. He tasted so good, felt so good, so right, it was like coming home. I couldn’t think of anything except him, his mouth, his hands. Us. The two of us.

When he stopped kissing me, he wiped under my eyes with his thumbs, because I guess I was crying a little. “Oh, Special,” he said, “you’ll be the end of me.”

Then we were kissing again. I slid to the floor, my bones useless, and we tangled into each other as if no time had ever passed and also like we’d never so much as touched. Every brush of his fingers, every time he kissed my lips, my neck, my hand, jolts of liquid electricity surged and hummed in my veins. I wrapped my arms around his neck and held him so tight, and it still wasn’t close enough.

When his hand worked its way under my shirt, I managed to remember—with great difficulty—that my father was upstairs and prone to wandering the house at night. “My dad,” I whispered.

“Got it. Just like old times,” Noah murmured against my mouth, and I felt him smiling.

Old and new. He felt different now, bigger, stronger, heavier, but he was Noah, my Noah, and let’s be honest. He’d had my heart since before I knew what love was.





CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE





Barb


You could’ve knocked me over with a feather when Sadie took charge like that. I’ll admit I had no idea she could afford to pay for a weekend at this real nice hotel, no sir.

Gosh, I couldn’t remember when I’d felt so relaxed. I’d have to tell Caro all about this, and we could come here the two of us sometime. But for now, it was so special, being here with my sweet little girl. Of course, she was forty-three. I knew that. When she turned up at my door Saturday night, crying, it had felt like she was little again. I made her a hot toddy, listened as she talked tangles about work and Oliver and Brianna, then tucked her into bed. Being Juliet’s mother was the one place where I always knew what I was doing.

Being sent to this fancy-pants hotel with Sadie all cheerful and efficient . . . that was just extra.

Juliet and I had been scrubbed and massaged and had breathed in all sorts of lovely aromatherapy mists and whatnot. The sauna, the Jacuzzi, the steam room, a bowl of fruit, and glasses of delicious cucumber water. I felt warm and smooth and smelled like oranges.

Then we got back to the room, and there were flowers and champagne from Sadie!

It was a real nice surprise, don’t you know. Real nice.

“Sadie is my absolute favorite sister,” Juliet said, then giggled. My favorite sound in the world was my girls laughing, and boy, Juliet needed it.

“She’s my favorite second child,” I said, and we laughed together. “I hope she won’t have to sell her apartment to afford this.”

“Oh, I’ll pay her back.”

“No, you won’t, Juliet Elizabeth. You let your sister do this nice thing for you. Don’t take that away from her.”

“You’re right, Mom. As usual.”

We were both wearing fluffy white robes and comfy slippers, sitting under the covers in the enormous king-size bed. That champagne went down nicely.

“So what’s going on, honey?” I asked, turning to look at her. “You weren’t making a whole lot of sense last night.”

“I don’t know, Mom. That’s the problem. I have no idea. It’s like all the rules have changed, and no one told me. I was playing one game, and I was winning, and now I’m not.”

“Do you mean work?”

“Yes. There’s this associate named Arwen—you met her at the party, and that time you came to the office last fall?” I nodded. “She’s . . . there’s absolutely nothing wrong with her. She’s a good architect. She’s good with people. She’s ambitious and smart. But you’d think she was the first woman architect ever. Vanity Fair is doing a profile on her. She’s up for the Moira Gemmill Prize, Mom!”

I gathered that was something real prestigious, and made a sympathetic noise.

“And I just don’t see it,” Juliet went on. “She’s good. She’s not great, but the partners love her, and clients are asking for her by name, and that leaves me pedaling in the air.” She sighed and finished her champagne.

“That sounds awfully hard,” I said.

“I’m a little bit afraid that my career is coming to an end. Maybe a lot afraid.”

“Oh, honey. Don’t be silly.” She cut me a look. “‘In the past decade, Juliet Frost has designed some of the most impressive buildings in North America.’ You know who said that? The New York Times, that’s who.”

“Oh, yeah. They did, didn’t they?”

“Four years ago.”

“See, that’s the thing. Four years ago. Today, I’m old news. It’s not Arwen so much, Mom. It’s that feeling that I did everything right, and I got screwed anyway.”

I was quiet for a moment, then took her hand. “I know that feeling, hon. I’m sorry. All you can do is the right thing. You’re talented and hardworking and ethical. No one can take that away from you.”