Page 79 of The Love Bus

LUNA

I cradled my coffee in both hands, just sitting. Breathing. Watching the sun crawl over the horizon, casting everything in that soft, pastel hush.

In a few hours, tourists would descend with their beach chairs, umbrellas, coolers, and kids in neon swimsuits.

But for now, the world was still.

Still enough to let old memories of gran drift in— waking me with the smell of toasted cinnamon and the rich comfort of her coffee drift in.

It was bittersweet now. Some things hadn’t changed, but so much had. Because I was the one who’d put the cinnamon rolls in the oven this morning. And I was the one drinking the coffee.

Which, by this point, had long since gone lukewarm.

I didn’t move to refill it. I just sat, rocking gently in my grandmother’s old swing, staring out at the ocean the way Gran used to—like it might tell me something if I listened hard enough.

In the distance, a man was walking along the shore. Alone. Too far to see clearly, but I tracked him anyway, without really meaning to.

I should’ve felt content.

And I did. Mostly.

I had things now I hadn’t dared to hope for a few months ago—this spectacular cottage, my own little show, a publishing deal, even a handful of vendors placing orders.

I had a future.

The only thing missing was the man I couldn’t stop thinking about.

Noah.

He had this annoying way of sneaking into my thoughts in the quiet times, but also in the loud ones.

I’d moved into the cottage two weeks ago now, and every single day, I’d hovered over my phone. Asked myself, Should I? From what Babs had told my mom, he had not, in fact, reconciled with his wife. So…

Casual. I’d say something light.

“ Hey, just wanted to say hi .” Delete.

“ How are the fish? Has Pippa come home?” Delete.

“ I miss you.” Absolutely not. Delete.

I stared at the screen, then typed:

Me: Thinking about you.

Send.

Down by the water, the man stopped. Hunched over a little. Didn’t look like a shell collector. Maybe he was looking for shark teeth.

Seconds passed.

Then my phone pinged.

I jumped. At least the coffee that sloshed onto my wrist wasn’t hot.

Noah: What a coincidence. I’m doing the same thing.

My stomach flipped, and I stared at the message. Had I expected him to answer? Maybe? But not right away.

Me: Is that so?

Noah: Yup. In fact, I’ve been doing a lot of that lately.

I blinked. Heat bloomed in my cheeks. My heart was pounding even though I felt lighter than I had in weeks.

Me: Who is this again?

Noah: Just a guy you met on vacation.

Me: Oh, right. I vaguely recall...

Down on the beach, the man stood still again.

He was facing this way now, with a phone in his hand.

I watched him for a long second.

His build. His posture. The way he held his head slightly tilted.

Another ping.

Noah: What are you wearing?

I snorted.

Me: Silk pajamas and fluffy slippers, of course. Lazing around my castle.

Noah: You’d look just as good in shorts and a sweatshirt—barefoot.

I laughed, but then…glanced down…at my shorts and one of my oldest hoodies, stained with coffee now. At my bare feet.

My fingers hovered over the touchscreen.

Me: What about you?

Noah: Just my shining armor—it’s a little tarnished lately.

Me: We can’t all be perfect. I know I’m not.

I held my breath, and he didn’t respond right away.

The man on the beach took a few steps forward, and the way he moved tugged at something in my chest.

Familiar in a way that made my breath catch.

Then another ping.

Noah: You look perfect.

I froze. Looked at my screen. Then up at the man.

He took another step closer. And then another.

The sun kissed his hair just right. And even though it was impossible, I knew...

His gait. Easy, confident. The way my entire body knew he was here, even though my brain said I was dreaming.

I stood. Slowly.

Shaking.

He stopped in the sand, at the base of the porch steps, and just…stared up at me. Looking so heartbreakingly… Noah .

My voice came out as shaky as I felt. “You’re here.”

“Yeah.”

“But…” I swallowed. “Why?”

He took a breath, and his fingers flexed at his side. And those eyes…they gazed right into my soul.

“I want more than a fling.” No hesitation. No uncertainty.

My heart skipped a beat.

We both just stood there, neither of us moving, the sea air thick with so, so many feelings, so many unanswered questions.

“You’re not with Courtney?” I had to be sure.

He shook his head and then ran a hand through his hair.

“No. God, no. My mom…she just… she lied to you that day in Vegas. Luna, if I’d known the crap that she told you…

” He looked away, jaw tight. “I didn’t even know until yesterday.

I would’ve followed you to the airport. I wouldn’t have let you leave like that. I swear.”

I believed him. And yeah, I’d had my heart broken before. I’d been lied to. But this…

I didn’t say anything at first, processing.

It was Noah. Of course, he wouldn’t lie to me.

His mother had. Which was, admittedly, far more believable.

I finally nodded, stepped aside, and gestured toward the house.

“Want a cup of coffee?” I said quietly. “I’ve got cinnamon rolls in the oven.”

He exhaled, like I’d offered him oxygen and not sweet breakfast pastries. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

And just like that, as though I’d summoned him with my text, he was walking into my cottage.

The dawning sun spilled across the hardwood floors, and the kitchen smelled like the perfect morning—buttery cinnamon sugar baking into homemade dough. It was sweet and rich and something you’d want to wake up to every single morning.

Like Noah, actually.

I closed the French door behind me, and then the man I’d been dreaming of looked around slowly, like he was trying to take it all in.

“It looks even better than the videos,” he said.

“You’ve been watching my videos?” I asked, stopping on my way to the kitchen.

He scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah. I guess that sounds kinda creepy…”

“No.” He’s here!

He’d been watching my videos!

“Not when it’s you,” I added.

Which was totally true, only…I was actually, pretty careful about not putting too many personal details online, something I’d learned the hard way. “I didn’t say where I live. How…how did you find me?”

“There was a shot in one of your videos,” he said, stepping closer. ““It was the break—right past the rock wall. I’ve surfed that stretch. I knew exactly where you were.”

I blinked. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” His eyes met mine.

“So, you just… thought you’d come down and do some…surfing?”

“Surfing was the back-up plan.”

“Did you need a back-up plan?” I asked, turning toward the coffee pot, trying to keep my tone light.

“I hope not.”

I reached for a second mug and poured. “You still take it black?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder.

He hesitated. “Actually…make it how you make yours.”

That caught me off guard. I stirred in a little creamer, a pinch of sugar—just enough to take the edge off.

“Thanks.” His fingers brushed mine as he accepted the cup and, a pull of heat—from him, not the coffee—had me hesitating.

He wasn’t in a hurry either.

When I let go, he shook his head. “Seeing your videos, you just doing your thing…I couldn’t stay away any longer.”

“Why would you want to stay away?”

But also, why hadn’t I thrown myself into his arms like I wanted to?

“I didn’t.” He glanced up, his eyes looking more blue than gray.

“But everything between us…even though it felt like I waited a lifetime to actually kiss you, this…we…happened so fast. And I didn’t want to get in the way of you figuring things out.

I would’ve liked to talk about everything before things blew up in Vegas, but… ”

I nodded, remembering how hollow I’d felt on that plane. “Probably would’ve been a good idea.”

“Yeah. But.” Huge wince. “My mom.”

I rolled my eyes. “Moms, sheesh .”

We both laughed. And just like that, the tension eased. We sank into the loveseat, close but still not touching, talking about our moms like we were longtime friends. Their strange boundaries, the way they both tried to protect us while being lovingly— maddeningly —manipulative.

“You heard about everyone on the bus knowing everything? And…Babs?” I asked.

“Yeah, I heard.” He took a sip from his mug, then looked at me and didn’t look away. “You know that I would’ve said something if I’d known.”

“I know.” I nodded, no hesitation. “Of course, you would’ve. I just felt so…exposed, I guess. Like I’d been in a fishbowl the whole time. Speaking of which, how are Jumbo and Plink, by the way?”

“The same.” He didn’t elaborate. Of course, he knew there was more.

“Babs meant well—I know that—and Mom said it was her idea. But still, Babs went along with it. She kept the secret.” I tucked a knee up toward my chest, absently tracing the rim of my mug. “But I’m trying to see the whole picture, not just how it felt in the moment.”

He tilted his head. “So, what now?”

“I’ve had some good talks with my mom since I’ve been back.” An understatement, really. “I think we both understand each other better now. And it’s better, even if we’re a work in progress.”

I glanced at him, watching the corners of his mouth twitch—listening but also processing.

“My mom loves me,” I added. “And I think she’s starting to realize that loving me means letting me make my own choices. Even if they’re mistakes.”

He gave a small nod, then sighed. “Yeah, I think I’ve got some conversations to have with my mom too.”

“Maybe there’s a support group for moms who love too hard.” He sent me a sideways glance.

That earned me a soft laugh. “Meddlers Anonymous?”

“Exactly. Step one is admitting you can’t control your adult child.”

“Right.” He closed his eyes for a second and exhaled through his nose. “She went way too far, though. And I won’t let that kind of thing happen again. Ever."

His voice was low, serious. Like maybe he was defending something precious—me?

It felt like an apology but also a promise.

"Boundaries," I said, like an echo, my voice soft.

“Yeah.”