He ran his fingers over my lips, and I trembled, closing my eyes for a second against the warmth that crashed into me.
“Juliet.” The sound of his voice, rough with longing, made me open my eyes again. “Can I kiss you?”
“Yes,” I responded impatiently. “And if you drag this out any longer, you’re not going to get the chance to kiss me first,” I warned him as he put his hands around my waist, pulling me close to him. He leaned in closer so that we were breathing the same breath.
My threat seemed to amuse him. “Because you’re going to kiss me?”
I tried to say, “Yes,” but he swallowed up the word by finally, finally, finally putting his soft, full lips on mine.
He pressed against me, holding himself there for a second, hesitating in the moment, like he was trying it out but ready to pull back quickly if I told him to.
I had no intention of doing that. Those blue butterflies had returned, and they were everywhere, underneath every inch of my skin. They fluttered and sent warm, shimmery shivers in waves throughout my body. This was incredible.
Then he kissed me for real, his mouth sweet and impossibly tender, almost loving, but strong and insistent.
It felt like I was drowning in him, and I wanted to let him pull me under.
I made it an entire ten seconds before my nervous system freaked out. I tried reassuring myself, saying I was fine, but I couldn’t just mind over matter this thing. I wanted his kiss and hated that this was my response. Those ten seconds had been transcendent.
Because he’d been right—we both got to feel the same incredible sensations at the same time, and I loved that.
I pulled back and he immediately released me, taking his hands away and stopping all contact.
Which was not what I wanted.
So I put my arms around his neck and held him close. His breathing was labored and harsh in my ear. A second later his arms slipped around me and pulled me against his chest. When he breathed in, I felt the expansion of his chest, the way his heartbeat thundered against me.
All of this soothed me as I clung to him, letting this anxiety attack out and knowing that he’d do whatever I wanted, would support me in any way that I asked him to.
When his own breathing had calmed, he asked, “Are you okay?”
“I will be.”
I will be. I repeated the words in my own head. It was going to be true. I loved kissing Noah and how it made me feel during those precious ten seconds, and I was determined to keep doing it.
So an hour later we tried again with all his teasing and showing me what he’d called earlier his “best stuff” and just how capable he was. And we tried again an hour after that. Each kiss lasted a bit longer; each anxiety attack seemed a bit shorter and less intense.
After the third round, when I was feeling exhausted from pushing so hard, he was cradling me on his lap, holding me close.
“You’re really good at kissing,” I told him.
“I told you so.”
He had. I hugged him tighter. “You’re also the only person I’d want to do this with.”
He kissed my forehead. “Same.”
I settled into a pretty awesome routine—I spent my days cleaning up dogs and taking care of Sunshine, and my nights were all spent with Noah. We kept practicing our kissing, and things kept improving. My attacks were definitely lessening in intensity and length.
And he was so good at the touching and caressing and non-mouth kissing that he got me all worked up until I couldn’t think about anything but kissing him. And he made me want him and his kisses so badly.
I’d never imagined I would feel that way.
It was almost like exercising. The more we did it, the more comfortable I got, the less it seemed to take out of me.
Everything between us became more enjoyable and delicious. Like, I hadn’t known there were so many different ways to kiss someone. The light, delicate butterfly kisses. The playful ones that had us both laughing. The intense, hormone-driven kisses that drove me out of my mind. The exploratory, give-and-take ones where we discovered new things that we liked. The intimate ones that seemed to make us even closer. Where it was like he could see into my soul.
The kisses where he made me feel like I was the only woman in the world who mattered to him, and I always would be.
Our homemade exposure therapy was working remarkably well. I thought maybe we should write a book.
And when the two weeks with Gladys were up, I was actually delighted when she texted me from Montana and said that she needed to keep helping her sister and asked me to stay on for another two weeks for another fifteen hundred dollars. I happily accepted. I loved being this close to Noah and Magnus.
Some nights he cooked for me. Others we watched movies. A few nights he read out loud to me, and he was like the world’s best audiobook, because in addition to dramatizing the voices, he couldn’t help but make faces while he was reading—a wry smile, a raised eyebrow, a frown. I loved how expressive he was.
But most of them were spent talking. We laughed and shared stories and kept getting to know one another. One of his secrets that I uncovered was that he knew about Days of Our Lives, a soap I used to watch with my mom and still occasionally caught up with. Noah’s on-set tutor had also been a fan of the show, and we bonded over our favorite story lines.
It was also how I found out he had very strong feelings regarding his grandmother.
Noah had finished with rehearsals early one afternoon and called me up to join him for a late lunch. Like most days, my schedule was very open, and I said yes. He decided he was in the mood for some steak, and Magnus was by his feet in the kitchen, desperate for any scraps that might “accidentally” fall his way. I was cutting up some lettuce for a salad that I hoped Noah enjoyed. By himself. This was going to be our last home-cooked meal for a while, because Shelby’s crew was going to demolish the kitchen tomorrow.
“But where will your cereal live?” I asked.
“In my bedroom until I have cabinets again.”
Then I noticed one of those DNA testing kits on his counter.
“Are you testing out your genes? I told you already, they’re good.”
He smiled over his shoulder at me and then put the steaks into the oven. “My publicist sent it over. The company wanted to hire me to be their spokesperson. I said no. I’m not interested in doing genetic testing. I don’t like the relatives I have now. Why would I go looking for more?”
“You mean your parents?”
He grabbed some baby spinach from the fridge and came over to the counter to join me. “No. My grandmother is the actual worst. She’s racist and anti-Semitic and a host of other fun -ist and anti- things that are awful. She likes to spend holidays insulting everyone and telling us how much she hates everybody and how we’ve all fallen short of her extremely high expectations.”
I knew it was no excuse, but maybe she’d been a product of her times. “How old is she?”
“Ninety-one.”
“Wow. That’s pretty old.”
“Yeah, well, she’s in fantastic shape and sharp as a tack. I figured she made a deal with the devil at some point and he’s in no hurry to have to live with her. And technically she’s only twelve in evil hag years, so . . .” He finished adding the spinach and threw in some cheese. “She was a stage mother who forced my mom into the business.”
“Maybe that could help you understand your own mother a little better.” It made me sad that Noah didn’t talk to his parents. He was such an amazing man that they were the ones who were definitely missing out. And I heard the note of loss in his voice when he talked about them. The one he tried to hide.
I told myself to stay quiet, but I did not like things that hurt him, and this did. “I know it’s none of my business, but I think you should consider calling your parents. I think it would be good for you and that some part of you does miss them and does want things to be better between you. People deserve a second chance.”
&
nbsp; Instead of responding, he went to take the steaks out and let them rest. He started plating lunch while I put the salad on the table. I decided not to bring it up again unless he did. He was a grown man who could make his own decisions. We sat down to eat, and Noah changed the subject, telling me the story of the last time he took Magnus with him to a pitch meeting. And how Magnus had peed on the director’s shoe—something he’d never done before.
“Is that why you get a dog sitter when you go to work?”
“Yes,” he said. “I can’t exactly bring him with me anymore. But to be fair to Magnus, the director was later prosecuted for sexual harassment and I’m glad we didn’t work together. This also means that Magnus is obviously a good judge of character. Like how much he loves you.”
“Of course he does. I give him steak,” and I slipped him my last bite, which he started munching on. “Which makes me your favorite person, right, Magnus?” But Magnus just ignored me now that he had his prize.
Noah put down his fork and reached for my hand. He had this thing he did where he would lean toward me and I couldn’t help but be drawn in. He would drop his chin and look up at me, and it was totally disarming.
“Juliet.”
“Noah.”
“Magnus isn’t the only—” Whatever he’d been about to say got cut off by a knock at his front door. He furrowed his eyebrows at me and asked, “Who could that be?”
Why was he asking me? George Lucas could be at his door, for all I knew.
He went to answer the door, and it surprised me when I heard Shelby’s voice.
I got up to join them, and she was standing in the doorway with Allan. She hugged Noah hello and introduced him to Allan. It was weird to remember that she had her own relationship with Noah because of her working on his house. I liked that they knew each other and were friendly. It joined the two big parts of my life together. The men were shaking hands, and she came rushing over to me, her eyes bright and happy.
We’d been in touch mostly via text where I sent her updates as to what was happening with me. Not explicitly detailed updates, but she basically knew what was going on. I wondered what she was doing at Noah’s house.
“What are you guys doing here in the middle of the day?” She could have been there to work, but she had Allan with her, and that seemed odd.
“Juliet!” She hugged me and pulled back to say, “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I couldn’t wait one second longer and had to tell you in person. I did what you said. I got a new dream.”
“What’s going on? What do you mean?”
Allan came over to join her, putting his arm around her shoulders.
Shelby grinned at me. “Allan and I are going to Las Vegas to get married. Right now. And we want both of you to come with us and be our witnesses.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Now it was my turn to shriek in happiness for her. “What? That’s insane! I’m so thrilled for you guys!” I hugged both her and Allan while Noah congratulated them. “But Vegas? Why now? Why not wait until the weekend?”
Allan said, “We were talking this morning, and we decided that we wanted our forever to start now.”
“We don’t have to worry about anyone else being there, so there’s no reason to wait,” Shelby added, but I heard the way her voice faltered at the words anyone else. I knew that it was in part due to her mother not being here, but given that Allan was so flagrantly choosing Shelby, just like he said he would, she must have also been talking about Harmony.
I wondered if Harmony knew. And if she didn’t, I would have liked to be there when she found out and her head exploded.
“Do you already have airline tickets?” Noah asked.
“Not yet,” Shelby said. “We wanted to make sure you guys could come so we could all fly together.”
“We could drive,” I offered, but that quickly got shot down.
“I have a photo shoot tomorrow afternoon,” Noah said, right as Allan added, “I have a deposition,” and Shelby jumped in, “Demolition for this needy movie star I’m working with.”
“And I have to feed and walk a dog,” I announced, feeling a little less than.
“Let me make a call and get us a flight so that we can go on our own schedule,” Noah said. It took me a second to understand what he meant, but Allan got there much faster and protested, “You don’t have to do that.”
But Noah had his phone out and walked away from us with Allan following at a bit of a distance, presumably to try to talk Noah out of it.
That wasn’t going to happen.
“You’re getting married!” I said to Shelby and hugged her again. “I can’t believe it. I mean, I can, but you’re going to be a married lady.”
“I know this puts you in a bind, but I’m going to keep paying rent until you make other arrangements.”
This hit me hard, like running straight into an accidentally closed door. Of course she would be living with Allan after she got married. But that was supposed to be two years from now, not tomorrow. “You’re moving out.”
Her lower lip started to tremble. “I don’t want to leave you. I think that’s one of the reasons I held on to the idea of a double wedding for so long—that neither one of us would be leaving the other. I don’t want you to be alone.”
“I can get another roommate.” At her crestfallen expression, I hurried to add, “Of course she won’t be you. No one could ever replace you. And I’ll come visit you and you can visit me and we’ll do girls’ nights.”
“Right.”
But my promise felt a little hollow. Things were going to change completely. While I was ninety-nine percent thrilled for her that she was marrying the man she loved, that one percent twinged with sadness at the idea that we weren’t going to be living together anymore.
Noah and Allan were arguing. Allan said, “You can’t do this. You can’t hire a private jet to fly us to Las Vegas.”
“It’s already done.”
“I’ll pay you back,” Allan insisted.
“No, you won’t. It’s a wedding gift. I also made hotel arrangements for all of us.”
Allan looked exasperated and like he didn’t know what to do.
“Give it up, Allan,” I called out. “You won’t win.”
Noah grinned at me and winked, and Shelby sighed. “I love how he looks at you. Do you even see it? How soft his gaze is every time you speak? It happens when he and I are talking about you, too.”
They talked about me? Like how? I wanted to ask her, but given that we had company, I couldn’t really dive into it. So I settled on, “I don’t know what you’re trying to say here.”
“He’s about to fly us on a private jet to Las Vegas, which I personally have always dreamed about doing, and he’s made hotel and car arrangements. And no matter how good I am at interior design, this is not for me. This is all for you. Because I’m your best friend and he wants to make you happy.”
“No,” I protested. “He’s a really generous person. We—”
“I swear on all that is holy, if you say that you are only friends, I will hurt you. This is my wedding day. You have to humor me. And I say you may not know it yet, but that boy is falling for you.”
My throat suddenly felt too tight, and my head went a little woozy. That couldn’t be true. I was about to say as much, but Shelby continued, “I am also officially asking you to be my maid of honor. I stopped by our favorite rental shop and picked up a white dress for me and a purple one for you.”
“I’ve been waiting my whole life to be your maid of honor.” We hugged again. Allan came back, wanting to talk to Shelby—probably to tell her this was all too much—but Noah seemed determined, and Shelby was even more determined to get her way and seemed enthusiastic about the luxury setup.
I made my way over to Noah and pulled him aside.
“You don’t have to do all this,” I told him.
“I want to. And technically, I’m not doing it. My new assistant is.”
“You h
ired another assistant?” His last one had moved to Florida, and I knew he’d been looking to replace her. “When?”
“A few days ago. Reina helped pick him out. His name is Kyle. He’s very good. I needed one.”
“For things like last-minute Vegas weddings?” I asked, shaking my head. I was pretty sure this didn’t fall under poor Kyle’s job description.
“Exactly. I did try to tell you about hiring him, but then you did that thing to my earlobe that makes me lose track of space and time and so I forgot.”
I blushed at his words and hoped that Allan and Shelby hadn’t overheard.
Noah cleared his throat and announced to everyone, “The plane will be ready to go in about three hours, which gives us time to pack up and head out to the private airport. Let’s meet back here and I’ll have a car ready to take us over.”
Both Allan and Shelby thanked him profusely, but Noah just waved it away. They left, promising to rejoin us soon, and when the door closed, I hugged Noah. “Thank you. This means a lot.”
“You’re welcome.”
I breathed him in. “Chartering a private plane is expensive.”
“It’s not that much to go to Vegas. Only a few thousand.”
I let out a short laugh. “Oh. Silly me. Just a few thousand.”
This made him pull back to look down at me with an amused smile. “I do have a lot of money.”
“Like, my brain knows that, but I forget because of how you live. You could be in a mansion with servants, and instead you’re in this hovel.”
“Soon-to-be completely renovated hovel,” he reminded me. “And I don’t know. I don’t need more house than this.”
I so liked that he was practical, because that’s exactly how I was, too.
“And,” he continued on, “I think you should spend money where it matters.”
There was that reminder again at how completely different our worlds were. That he had money to spend on the things he deemed important. “Does it bother you that I’m a dog groomer?”
His face became perplexed. “Why would it bother me?”
“It’s not some glamorous job.”
The Seat Filler: A Novel Page 22