Page 15 of Naughty Noelle
I swallow hard around the knot in my throat. Noelle’s pain is palpable. Henry doesn’t talk about it, but I know he misses his father terribly. I think back to the conversation I had with Henry after the funeral. I clear my throat. “You know I’m a man of science.”
She nods.
“So, I don’t believe in magic, but I believe in facts. And it’s a scientific fact that all matter is made up of energy.”
Noelle is silent but I can tell she’s listening. I smooth the ends of her hair. “Humans are matter. The difference between formsof matter is the way the atoms and molecules fit together, but ultimately, as Einstein said, all matter is energy.”
“Okay,” she says, and I hear the question in her voice. I’ve not shared my beliefs with anyone before and my chest feels a bit tight as I struggle to put my thoughts into words.
“Energy cannot be destroyed. It just changes from one form to another. Your father isn’t gone, Noelle. That energy may be changed, and it doesn’t exist in the way you wish it would, but it’s still somewhere. Some of it is in you, and Henry, and your brothers and sister. I like to think of that energy still existing when I think of my grandfather – and when you walk across that stage in the spring, I want you to think of your father’s energy as being with you and the joy he would experience seeing you accomplish your dreams.”
Noelle is still in my arms, and I fold my lips in, pressing them tight as if I can take back my explanation and wondering if I should have just kept my mouth shut.
“That’s really beautiful, Hiro,” she finally says, quietly. “I like that thought.”
I exhale shakily as she snuggles into me, linking my fingers with hers and turns the movie back on. I turn my attention to the television, watching a couple ice skating hand-in-hand and I think about Noelle’s energy. She’s like stardust and even though she’s been here for less than a day, I’ll never be able to be here at the cabin again without being reminded of her.
6
Noelle
Iwake slowly, pulling the soft cotton sheet up over my nose. It’s chilly in the room and the tip of my nose is cold. I stretch languorously, snuggled deep under the warm, heavy blankets. I’m not looking forward to leaving my cozy cocoon.
The only thing that would make it better is if I was waking up in Hiro’s arms. My toes curl into the sheets. I don’t know what made me swoon harder, the way he lit my body up like fireworks on New Year’s Eve or the tender way he held me while we watched a silly Christmas movie, kissing away my tears when the heroine got her Christmas wish.
I absolutely would have liked to continue what we started, but Hiro noticed my yawns at the end of the movie and insisted on carrying me up stairs and tucking me in bed alone so I could get a good night’s sleep. I was almost worried that he regrated what happened between us earlier, but then he leaned in and gently kissed me, sending little zings through my tummy.
I’ve never really talked about my memories with Dad since his death. My mother was barely holding it together after the accident and Henry, Greyson and Adelaide had to dive right in to ensure Black Holdings didn’t suffer. Bax, Ollie and I were left on our own, trying to make sure Mom was okay and she was trying to make sure we were okay, but those days are a foggy nightmare I’d rather not revisit.
Remembering that day at the Christmas tree farm hurt, but for the first time, I could also recall some of the happiness we experienced together. It’s bittersweet, but I’m glad I have that memory and talking about it with Hiro felt right. Comfortable.
I glance out the window and notice pale blue sky, the sun playing hide and seek with the silvery clouds. I hope Hiro doesn’t try to get out of hunting for a Christmas tree with me today.
I throw off the covers and bounce out of bed. I throw on some sweatpants from our shopping trip and a pair of thick wool socks and head downstairs, inhaling tempting scents of bacon and fresh coffee as they emanate from the kitchen.
Hiro is pouring two cups and he places one in front of me as I slide onto the stool.
“Two sugar and cream, right?” he says.
I nod, taking a sip. It’s delicious, but something niggles at my brain. “Um, Hiro?”
“Hmm?” He’s at the stove with a kitchen towel thrown over his shoulder as he flips pancakes.
“How did you know how I take my coffee?”
He stills. “Lucky guess?” He lifts the pan off the stove, stacking the pancakes on a plate. I snag a piece of bacon from the bowl on the counter as he’s setting out breakfast.
“Pancakes, bacon, maple syrup, fruit, whipped cream and coffee? Who are you?” I ask, eyeing the fluffy stack.
He hands me a fork and gestures at the pancakes. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that I think Henry would starve if his chef disappeared and he didn’t have access to room service or catering. I’m not even sure he knows how to make toast, let alone something that looks like this.”
A dark blush tinges his cheekbones. “It’s just breakfast.”
I nearly fall off the stool when I take a mouthful. “It’s so good,” I mumble. “Where’d you learn to cook like this?”
He shrugs, settling in on the stool next to me with his black coffee. “This isn’t fancy. And I like to cook.” He drizzles syrup from the fancy carafe like a pro. “Eat up, if you still want to go hunt for a tree. It’s cold out this morning.”
