Page 102 of They Are Mine

I nod, because yeah, I bet she is.

“How’d you meet her?” I ask.

He smiles, like he’s replaying it in his head. “Bumped into her at work.” His voice goes soft, a little distant. “She was everything I dreamed about. Like… too perfect to be real.”

No shit.

“She’s a hell of a woman,” I say, more to myself than anything.

“An angel,” he says.

That makes me pause.

That’s a strong fucking word.

Angel.

Not just beautiful. Not just perfect.

Something holy.

Something devotional.

I tilt my head slightly, watching him. “You okay with this?”

Because fuck, I don’t know if I would be if I was here first.

Noah meets my gaze. Steady. Certain.

“Yeah,” he says. Then, after a pause, like he’s measuring his words carefully, he adds, “She’s pretty sure she needs you.”

What?

That’s an odd way to put it.

Before I can press, Juliet walks in, carrying a casserole dish, steam curling from the edges, smelling like heaven.

She sets it down on a hot pad in the center of the table.

“I hope you’re both hungry,” she says, beaming. “I made lasagna. Pasta from scratch.”

I stare at the dish.

My fucking favorite.

I swallow, my throat suddenly dry.

Coincidence?

Juliet smiles, so sweet, so fucking knowing, and then turns back toward the kitchen.

“I’ll get the garlic bread. Go ahead and start!” she calls over her shoulder.

That ass.

That little fucking bounce in her step.

Jesus.

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