Page 81 of The Love Bus

SEVERAL MONTHS LATER…

S pring had returned to Matunuck, and with it, the scent of salt and blooming lilacs outside my grandmother’s cottage. Inside, it smelled like garlic, basil, and sun-dried tomato—aka, live-streaming in progress.

"And once it thickens," I said, giving the spoon a little flourish toward the camera, "we’ll add the cream and a splash of white wine. Not too much—unless you’re planning to nap straight through dinner. And hey, no judgment here."

Behind me, Pippa stretched out long and lazy across the windowsill, eyes half-lidded in the late afternoon light. She technically belonged to Noah, but after a single visit, she gave up her wanderlust tendencies and claimed permanent residency at the beach house. As it turned out, she loved me.

She wasn’t the only one.

Noah spent most of his free time here as well.

So much so that, a few weeks ago, he’d brought the fish over as well. Feeding time was a two-person operation now—one of us would distract Jumbo with a net, and the other snuck flakes to Plink—and I swear, although my mom disagreed, Jumbo was looking slimmer these days.

It was nice, us all-but-officially living together. Like a big happy family, but with more animals and less children.

In my favorite place in the world.

I reached up and touched the pendant at my neck, fingertips grazing the smooth stone.

Just before Christmas, I had gone with Babs to her jeweler—the one who could press ashes into something beautiful.

I’d brought Gran and Dad with us, in the only way I could, and had pendants made for all three of us.

When they’d opened theirs, I’d held my breath.

It wasn’t quite closure.

But it was a way to carry them forward, close to our hearts, where they'd always belonged.

The front door creaked open, and before I could finish stirring, Beans sprang to life from where he had been napping in the other room—ears up, tail in full-body wag, toenails clicking madly across the floor.

Beans was the miniature dachshund I’d adopted last Christmas, but he’d made his allegiance clear months ago. I was the one who rescued him, but his heart? Very much spoken for.

What could I say, the little wiener had great taste!

Noah, wearing a navy tie, a white coat folded over his arm, and a stethoscope draped casually around his neck, dropped to his haunches to give Beans a little love. When he glanced over at me and winked, I nearly dropped the spoon in my sauce.

We’d been together for ten months now, and this guy still gave me serious butterflies.

But I couldn’t give into them now. Definitely not while streaming.

I’d decided that my viewers didn’t need to know everything about my life.

I was up to two hundred thousand subscribers now, and Noah and I were careful to keep personal things personal—mostly.

They could know I lived on the beach, but not the name of the town. They could know I was engaged, but they didn’t have to watch it happen. And they could see Noah’s hand, sometimes a little of his arm, and on a few occasions, the back of his head, but they never saw his face.

And honestly, my viewers seemed to eat it up—the mystery of it all.

"You’re just in time for a taste test," I said, with my on-camera smile so he knew I was recording.

Noah grinned and, with Beans hot on his heels, stepped closer. I leaned out of the shot and welcomed him home with a quick kiss—the kind with definite promise, though.

“Okay, full disclosure? This is one of those dishes that accidentally impresses people. Just don’t tell them how easy it was.”

"And what is this accidentally impressive dish?”

"Pasta with sun-dried tomato cream sauce and seared scallops," I said, plating a small serving and sliding it across the counter. Then, watching the likes spike and the comments come rolling in, I flashed the ring on my finger to the camera. “Nothing but the best for my handsome fiancé.”

Noah tried a bite off camera, groaned, and gave a dramatic chef's kiss. “I hope you know, I’m keeping this. This is my dinner now.” He scooched the plate closer to him with a playfully protective scowl, and I laughed.

“Well, you heard him. I guess it’s time for dinner. Until next time!”

It took all my focus to finish the video with a flourish and end the live broadcast. As I was saving the file, I felt Noah coming up behind me.

"You keep feeding me like this, and I’ll never leave," he murmured, wrapping his arms around my waist.

I grinned. "Now you’re catching on.”

Technically, Noah had an apartment a few blocks away, but unless he was on call or my nephews were visiting, he spent his nights at the cottage.

He’d joined a local medical practice back in December—a group of three doctors who split their time between clinic hours and house calls.

Every other Thursday, he volunteered at The Ocean Light Community Center, offering care to underserved patients.

"I thought I’d miss the adrenaline," he’d told me once. "But it turns out, I really like actually knowing my patients."

We’d both found a rhythm. Surfing together on sunny mornings, skiing on snowy weekends. And somehow, always checking in with the other before planning anything major. Because that was what love looked like now.

It wasn’t sacrifice. It was showing up.

“Our moms had lunch again this week,” I said, curling into his side. “They’re practically besties now.”

Noah chuckled, brushing his lips against my hair. “I knew she’d come around.”

“Lucky for us,” I said, smiling. “I think once she stopped trying to manage your happiness, she was able to finally see it. And now I think she just wants to be part of it.”

He nodded, quiet for a moment, his hand trailing gently along my arm.

“Honestly,” I added, “I get it. We both love the same person. Kind of hard not to end up on the same team.”

And then I looked up and let myself just…gaze into his eyes. “How was your day?”

“Well, Mrs. Smith’s blood pressure is finally down. But Mr. Smith’s rash is not—he’s convinced it’s from the hospital detergent, so he’s refusing to wear a gown. And Little Jonesy—the kid with the toe infection? Tried to bribe me with a Snickers if I told his mom it was caused by a spider.”

Noah calls all his patients either Smith or Jones. It’s a patient privacy thing.

He regaled me with a few other stories, keeping me up on some of his favorite patients while we set the table together.

For the first month, when he’d been working out his notice up in Boston and we had only recently gotten together, he’d tried not to talk about work at all.

And when he had, it had mostly been about the problems there—the politics, the budget cuts, the layoffs.

I was so glad he was out of that environment now, even though the patients up there had lost a great doctor.

Noah topped up my glass of wine and leaned back. “Did you figure out your saffron-and-lemon risotto?” he asked.

“I added a little more parmesan and a touch of white pepper, and it’s pretty much perfect.”

He glanced up. “I get it for lunch tomorrow?”

“Absolutely.” It was one of the perks. “Oh, Ashley’s coming down this weekend with the twins,” I added, dabbing the napkin at my mouth. I frowned. “But…something’s off. She says it’s to work on the wedding stuff, but I’m not sure that’s it. Beckett never comes with her.”

He looked up from his plate. “You think something’s going on?”

I bit my lip. “She says everything’s fine. And maybe it is. But I don’t know...I just want her to be okay.”

“She’s got you. That helps.” Noah always knew how to make me smile.

"Tay emailed this morning,” I said. “She finally booked her flight. She says she’s got some time off, so she’ll definitely be at the wedding.”

"That’ll be great to see her."

"And Babs. Of course."

Babs, who I now knew was a permanent fixture in Mom’s life.

But thoughts of our guest list vanished when Noah reached across the table and grabbed my hand. And then pressed a kiss on the back of my fingers.

“I can’t wait to make us official,” he murmured.

My heart… Oh, the love, it just kept growing. And I hadn’t thought that was possible. This feeling surprised me every day. Sometimes more than once.

June was coming fast, and with it, our wedding cruise. A small affair—just family and a few friends. Nothing public. Nothing performative.

"You know," I said, studying him, "I used to think love was about sacrifice—so much work. Like everything had to be perfect, but also holding back, to make space for the other person. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah?"

I nodded. "But with you, it’s like...a hundred and a hundred. Both of us showing up. Whole. Not perfect. But all in. And it isn’t work at all. Because I want this…more than anything else."

This time, Noah leaned all the way across our small table and kissed me. Another promise.

"That’s what I want too," he said.

I held on to him, my hand around his neck, my fingers brushing his skin, playing with the ends of his hair.

"I am so glad we were roped into that bus tour,” I murmured against his mouth.

Best decision I’d ever made.

He stood, sliding his chair back without a sound, and came around the table. I was already rising, untying my apron and tossing it aside, meeting him in the middle.

One arm curved around my waist, pulling me flush against him. With the other, he reached for his wine glass and lifted it between us, eyes never leaving mine.

“To the ride of our lives,” he said.

I raised mine, clinking it gently against his.

“To the ultimate fling,” I said, a grin tugging at my lips.

“Damn straight.”

We both took a sip, but then the glasses were set aside.

Noah didn’t just reach for me, he lifted me, effortlessly, like I weighed nothing at all. I laughed in surprise and wrapped my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist, clinging to him like an eager little monkey.

“What about dessert?” I whispered, breath catching as he started walking slowly, deliberately, toward the bedroom.

His mouth claimed mine before he answered, wine-flavored lips hot and hungry. Noah gave my backside a wicked little squeeze.

“I’ve got dessert right here.”

Well, who could argue with that?

The door clicked shut behind us, and yeah… It should go without saying…

I got my just desserts.

— The End?—