Stella brightens. Then she glances at my suitcase sitting half-packed on the closet floor. “Are you nervous?”
A soft laugh escapes me. “A little.”
The truth is, I’m not nervous about meeting his family—I already met them. I’m nervous about what this visit signifies. About walking into his childhood home not as the woman he’s protecting, but as the older single mom he’s dating.
And I’m nervous because the last time I planned a future with someone, the ground shifted beneath me.
But this feels different. Solid. Quietly certain.
I zip my suitcase, press down on the top, and take a breath that feels like a beginning.
My phone buzzes on the dresser.
* * *
Noah: On my way. Coffee in hand. And I miss you already.
* * *
A warm, easy smile spreads across my face.
Stella peeks at the screen. “He loooves you,” she says, sing-song, before darting out of the room with her duffel.
I shake my head, amused.
Love.
Maybe.
But the truth—one I’ve avoided saying aloud—is that I love him too.
Because when everything shattered, I didn’t think about the case or the rumors or the custody agreement or what the neighbors would say. I thought about Noah. And how, without hesitation, I followed him.
I chose him. Instinctively.
And now, in the quiet morning light, I understand what that means.
I’m not falling for him anymore. I’m in love.
I close the last suitcase and carry it downstairs to the main floor. Through the front window, Noah’s SUV pulls into the driveway. The sight of him—broad shoulders, easy stride, coffee balanced in one hand—does something in my chest I’ve stopped trying to defend against.
He catches sight of me through the glass and his smile softens into something private.
Gentle.
Certain.
Mine.
When I open the door, cold air rushes in around us.
“You ready?” he asks, stepping closer.
I nod. “We are.”
Stella runs out to greet him, and he bends to give her a fist bump. She beams. My heart tilts.
He takes my suitcase from my hand as if it weighs nothing. “Let’s go,” he says. “We’ve got a long weekend ahead of us.”