It’s Thanksgiving, and we’re stargazing with my family. It’s pretty cold, so the others don’t last long. I’m glued to my chair and Dad’s six-inch telescope—waiting for the reemergence of the giant red star Aldebaran from its occultation behind the moon—when a warm hand slips beneath my curls to heat my neck.
“You’re cold,” Noah says.
“Not anymore.” Two months together—two months of talking and running and laughing and kissing—and his touch still warms me like the summer sun. Maybe it’s only because it took us so long to get together, but I find myself wishing there were more hours in the day so I could spend them all with him. I reach down and back to pull him closer with a hand on his calf, keeping my eyes on the scope. His body blocks the breeze, warming me even more. I’m tempted to leave the scope, but Aldebaran should show up any second.
Besides, Dad is out here too.
After our second, infinitely-more-successful setup, I took Noah home to meet my family. Though separating to drive our two cars back to the house was painful, it did allow me time to call Claire and give fair warning. I’m not sure what leverage she used to threaten everyone; it must have been powerful. My parents didn’t wink, Kaden didn’t posture, Zach didn’t show off.
Frankly, it was a little unnerving how easily Noah slid into the family dynamics.
Mom even convinced him to stay over for her birthday party the next day, which suited me fine. She says my neglect of her for Noah that weekend was the best present she’s received in years.
Explaining to Jamie when I got home Sunday night was more than a little uncomfortable, but she took it like a trooper. It didn’t hurt that she’d finally noticed Chris’s attention. Even so, Noah and I still spend more time at his apartment than mine.
Finally, Aldebaran emerges, peeking out from behind the full moon like a shy child shielded by his mother’s skirt. I watch for a few more seconds, reveling in the sight and Noah’s patience as he continues to shield me from the breeze, before standing up to share the view. I stretch my back while I wait for my sight to adjust from the brightness of the magnified moon.
“Do you want a turn?” I ask.
“I’m good.” He lifts the binoculars he’s been using, then sets them on my abandoned chair and unzips his coat, holding it open in invitation.
I look over my shoulder to check how zoned out my dad is at his scope, surprised to see that he’s not there. “Where’s Dad?” I ask.
Noah takes my hands and slips them beneath his coat, coaxing me into his warmth.
“When did he go in? Is he okay?” I ask, confused. Dad’s always the last one to leave.
“A while ago. He’s fine,” he says, laughter in his eyes.
“Why—”
“Grace.” His thumb brushes across my lips. “Don’t worry about it.” He wraps his arms around me gently.
Dad’s classical music has given way to . . . “Boston?” I ask.
He smirks. It’s a little lopsided.
My heart pounds. Is he . . . ? I mean, we’ve talked, but I hadn’t allowed myself to hope that he’d do anything so soon.
“The first time I saw you, you took my breath away.”
I start to say something. He silences me with a featherlight kiss that leaves me wanting more.
“I had a feeling about you, but neither of us was ready. I’ve watched you walk out of my life more than once, and I don’t ever want that to happen again.”
He tucks an errant curl behind my ear, trailing unsteady fingers down my cheek, and taunts me with another quick kiss. “I know we haven’t been together that long, but I don’t want to waste any more time. You’ve brought peace back into my life, motivated me to regain my family and myself, taught me so much. I want to share every moment with you, spend the rest of my life and beyond learning with you.”
His knees shake against mine. I tighten my hold, willing him to say the words I’m aching to hear.
“I love you, Grace,” he says, his eyes shining in the moonlight. “Marry me?”
“I love you too,” I say, overwhelmed with joy and belonging and acceptance, “and I would love to marry you.” I close the distance between us to seal my answer with another kiss. “You know,” I say, retreating just enough to speak, “equivalent height is pretty convenient.”
His lips tighten into a smile against mine. “It’s true,” he mumbles back.