Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 173796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
“Your family means a lot to you.”
“My family means everything to me. I want to be everything my mom is. Strong and independent in my own way, a solid example, but human in my mistakes. I want to be proud and encouraging, accepting but firm, even when it hurts. Even when it’s hard. I want to make chicken and dumplings when my daughter feels like her world’s falling apart like teens think and I want to bake cupcakes with stupid sweet frosting when my son’s too hard on himself for a bad grade or dropped pass.” I laugh, lowering my head. “Clearly I have some work to do to get there, but… ”
I look to Noah.
He runs his hand over his forearm, a look of reverence adorned along his face. “You want to be a mom.”
My lips spread wide. “Of course I do.”
He shakes his head, and a slight frown builds along my brow.
“No,” he begins. “That’s it. That’s why you didn’t care where you went to school. That’s why you had no opinion when it came to choosing and that’s what you didn’t tell me when I guessed there was more to it.”
My throat grows thick, but I nod.
“You said it was embarrassing,” he reminds me. “It’s not.”
“Telling you is.”
He almost looks offended, and an anxious laugh escapes me.
“Noah, you’ve worked your entire life toward a goal, and you’re on your way to achieving it. You’re about to have the world at your fingertips, and it’s a tribute to what you’ve dedicated your life to. Here I am, dreaming of being a housewife, and I haven’t even figured out how not to burn a loaf of French bread yet.”
I go to laugh it off, but Noah frowns, shaking his head.
“Don’t sell yourself short. What you want is to give yourself over to the happiness of others. That’s selfless.”
“Some would call it selfish to want to stay home and raise a family while my partner busts his ass outside of it.”
“A good man would disagree.”
I blink up at him and his chest inflates.
“Yeah, maybe you’re right.” A sigh pushes past my nostrils, and I shake my head. “My dad would like you,” I tell him. “Someone who loves his mom, plays football like a boss, and cooks like a badass.”
Noah glances away, far too humble to face me while I boast about him, but his smile is evident in the creases framing his features.
After a moment of silence, he says, “I went on a picnic once.”
My jaw drops. “Once?!”
He laughs, looking down. “Yep. Once. My mom worked a lot, but on my birthday one year, she picked me up early from school, had lunch packed up in a mini-laundry basket and off we went.”
“Where did she take you?”
He meets my eyes. “She took me here.”
And my heart melts. “Here?”
He nods. “She gave me my present, a football.” He laughs, remembering, and I trace every line of his face. “It was the same every year. She’d ask what I wanted, and I’d say a football. She’d tell me to pick something else, but I’d hold strong.”
“You can never have too many.”
“That’s exactly what I’d say.” He peeks at me. “Mason?”
“Yep. My grams didn’t have a lot of money, so he always asked for a ball. He knew she’d get him something regardless, so he wanted to be sure it wouldn’t cost her much.”
“Exactly.” He stares, and it hits me.
That’s why he did it. He knew his mom couldn’t do much more, but would die trying, so he made it easy on her.
There’s no doubt in my mind she knew. It must have been so hard to have only one parent. One person period.
If she worked a lot, was he alone often?
Does he feel alone now?
I clear my throat. “What did she pack for lunch?”
“Ice cream.”
A laugh bubbles out of me and Noah’s follows.
Together, we turn to the ocean listening to the sound of crashing waves until the chill gets too strong, and then we head back to campus.
Once we’re pulling up in front of my dorm, I’m not ready to climb out, so I turn to him and pull my knees up to my chest. “Tell me something.”
“What do you want to know?” he rasps, a hidden grin on his lips.
I drop my head against the seat and whisper, “Everything.”
Chapter 22
Arianna
* * *
It’s a little after eleven when Mason, Brady, and Chase are walking through the door.
Brady swings me around in a hug and Mason plants a grumpy kiss to my hair as he slips by, falling to his ass on the couch, his eyes instantly closing.
“Someone had a long night.” I laugh, turning to Chase, who hesitates near the door, last night’s encounter likely playing in his head, so I ease his mind, offering a smile. “Hey.”
It works, his shoulders pepping up a bit, and he grins, his eyes falling to my outfit. “Hey, you look good.”