We both know he doesn't live here. In fact, he went back to the city yesterday morning. He had a few things to handle and said he'd be back that night. I told him not to hurry back, that I'd be busy with the competition. I don't know why I said it, but it felt like it was the polite thing to do. I have a terrible habit of doing the polite thing when I should actually say how I really feel.
"He didn't bring you to the bakery this morning, did he?"
"No, I came in early, and he has things to handle. He's got a life too."
Noah had taken my polite comment and run with it. He didn’t come back last night after saying he got caught up. He did text me good morning, but there’s been nothing more today, which is unusual for us. Normally we text throughout the day, but maybe Noah only texts me because I initiate conversation. He didn’t strike me as a big texter when I met him, and as of today, he’s proved me right. I returned the morning text he sent, but since then it’s been radio silence.
"Don't make up excuses for that man in your head."
"What?"
"I know that look on your face. You’ve got an excuse for everyone. What excuse does he have for not taking you to the bakery today?”
"He doesn't have to have one."
"I know that, but it's also not what I asked."
"He went back to the city."
"Whoa, wait," Tilly says abruptly and stops walking.
"Come on, Tils. We need to drop these off and get to our table before the competition starts." It actually can’t start without me, but she doesn’t need to know that. I lift the box in my hand to remind her what we’re doing right now.
“Molly, seriously. You think we’re going to jump over that bomb you dropped?”
“It’s not a bomb. He doesn’t live here.”
“Then he shouldn’t have”—Tilly hesitates before glancing around to make sure no one is close to us. She drops her voice and leans in—“gotten all up in your homemade cherry pie filling.”
I snort a laugh. I want to say I agree, but Noah and I made no promises to each other. Except that if he knocked me up, he'd take care of me. It would be an accident that forced his hand, and I don’t know what taking care of me entails. That could mean a check in the mail each month, for all I know.
I'd love to have his babies. It’s a thought that should blow my mind, but it doesn't. I guess what I’m really feeling is that I don't want them by accident. I want them with a man that loves me and wants to raise them in this community. I don’t have anyone left in my family, but I have Cheerful. This town is my family.
"I can't talk about it right now," I tell her as emotion clogs my throat.
"Oh, I know. That's how you operate. Keep on moving so you don't have to think about it." She shakes her head. "I'm letting it go because we actually don't have the time, but this conversation isn’t over."
“Thank you,” I tell her, knowing at some point I will have to face this. Well, unless Noah never comes back.
Chapter Fourteen
NOAH
“Noah, where the hell have you been?” Kim nearly shouts when she bursts through the open door of my apartment.
“A little busy here, sister dear. Can we catch up later?” I go back to what I was doing as someone walks by with a box labeled “kitchen,” and I call after them, “That goes in the donation pile.”
“Noah,” Kim says slowly as she turns in place. “What is going on?”
“I got offered a job heading a project last night, and I decided to take it,” I tell her as I dump the contents of my junk drawer in the trash. It’s mostly takeout menus anyway.
“Okay, what the hell? You haven’t answered my calls in almost a week. I had to get Marley to go check on the cabin to make sure you weren’t dead, only for him to tell me you’ve been shacking up with Molly the whole time. Then the next thing I know, Belle texts me this morning when she overheard Molly saying you left town.”
“That’s all accurate,” I say without looking at her. Before I know what she’s doing, she grips the back of my arm and pinches me hard. I yelp as I turn around and scowl at her. “You know how much I hate that.”
“It still works,” she says, raising her chin in defiance. “Now stop for a second and talk to me.”
“Do you have any idea how expensive last-minute movers are?” I ask, but she shakes her head.
