Page 24 of Picture This

“I love you, Emily. But you aren’t getting your way with this one. Have a good night.” I stepped around her and climbed the stairs. Except before I could march to the door, she called my name.

“Noah.” She waited until I turned. “You don’t even know her. Not really.”

“You’re wrong. I know her. She has the kind of heart that makes me want to be a better person. She’s funny. She’s brave. She’s smart. She’s tough. She doesn’t like people to see her cry, so she sneaks away whenever she’s upset. She can’t stand it when different foods touch on her plate. Spiders freak her out. Driving on the interstate makes her nervous. She’s happiest with a camera in her hands. She always wanted a dog named Frank and a cat named Beans. She gets shy when you give her a compliment. I don’t know everything about her, but I know her.”

And I wanted a chance to learn more. Delylah looked at me with those pretty brown eyes, and I wanted a chance to make her smile. I was done pretending there wasn’t a spark.

“Do you know why I broke it off with those other women?” I asked my sister. “It’s not because I’m picky. It’s because they weren’t—”

“Delylah.” Emily finished my sentence as realization dawned. Then she smacked a hand to her forehead. “They weren’t Delylah.”

I grinned. “Now she gets it.”

Chapter 7

Delylah

The hotel room’s phone was pressed between my shoulder and ear as I flipped through the menu on my lap.

“Anything else, Miss Banks?” the woman in the kitchen asked.

“Dessert.” I tapped the last page. “Any recommendations?”

“You can’t go wrong with any of the options, but my favorites are the fruit tart and chocolate cake.”

“Great. I’ll have both.”

“Excellent decision,” she said. “Let me just read this back to you. I’ve got a cheeseburger, medium well. A side of steak fries. The mini crab cakes. A loaded baked potato. A fruit tart and a chocolate cake. Anything else?”

There was a very real chance I wouldn’t fit in my bridesmaid dress tomorrow. “Could I also have a Diet Coke? Actually, red wine. I mean both. A Diet Coke and a glass of red wine. Your house cabernet will be lovely.”

“Of course. We’ll have that up to you shortly.”

“Thanks.” I returned the phone to its cradle and flopped on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

It was painted a pretty shade of cream, just like the walls, that brightened the space and complemented the plush white bedding. The bed frame was made of rustic reclaimed wood. A soft burgundy rug covered most of the oak floor.

As far as hotel rooms went, this was certainly not a bad place to spend a quiet night. Except there was a pit in my stomach that half of the room service menu wasn’t going to fill. I wanted to be in that canvas tent, sitting on the floor, playing cards with Noah.

Maybe it was for the best.

I’d spent most of my life dreaming of Noah Chappel. If something happened between us and then it fell apart, well . . . maybe I was better off dreaming.

He’d been about to kiss me, right? Or had I imagined him leaning in? I guess I’d never know.

When it came to Noah, timing had never been on our side. Maybe that was for a reason. Maybe it was time to finally let him go.

On a sigh, I pushed up on my elbow and trudged into the bathroom to comb my damp hair. I’d taken a hot shower after we’d gotten back to the lodge, and the edges of the mirror were still fogged. The scrape on my leg was tender, so was my ankle, but neither ached as much as my heart.

A knock came as I was putting away the hair dryer. I limped across the room, opening the door. “Thank”—my lip curled—“you?”

Jake stood in the hallway, dressed in dark jeans and a crisp gray button-down. His eyes were clear, his face freshly shaved. He must have slept off this morning’s bourbon. His gaze dragged up and down my baggy sweats. “You made it back.”

“Sure did.”

“I was worried.”

“No, you weren’t.” I crossed my arms over my chest, arching an eyebrow. “What do you want, Jake?”