Page 64 of Loving Josy
I wave him off. “Five more minutes! I’m almost done up here.”
He mutters something I can’t hear, probably calling me stubborn, but I don’t bother responding. My phone vibrates in my pocket, the sudden buzz pulling my focus.
I freeze.Josy.It has to be her, we have been texting all day. She’s constantly been on my mind, and the thought of receiving another text sends a jolt of excitement through me. Without thinking, I shift my weight and start to reach for my phone.
“Hey, you better not be texting on the roof!” Esteban shouts, laughing, but I barely register his words. My fingers brush the edge of my phone, my mind already racing with what she might’ve said.
Then, in slow motion, it happens.
My boot catches on a loose shingle, and suddenly, the solid surface beneath me gives way. The world tilts as my balance disappears, and for a split second, there’s nothing but air.
“Noah!” Esteban’s voice cuts through the panic as I tumble backward, gravity pulling me hard and fast.
I hit the edge of the roof first, the impact jolting through my body before I continue to fall. My hands are flailing, trying to find purchase on something. Anything. The ground rushes up to meet me, and then everything goes black.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Josy
The morning sunlight streams through my bedroom window, warming my face and coaxing me out of a deep, dreamless sleep. For a moment, I blink in confusion, my mind catching up to the fact that I’ve overslept. Normally, I’d be scrambling to get ready for work, but today, I don’t care. A smile spreads across my face as I stretch lazily, every muscle in my body deliciously relaxed.
Last night wasn’t just perfect. Life-changing.
I glance to the pillow beside me and find a folded piece of paper resting there. My heart does a little flip as I grab the note, Noah’s familiar scrawl greeting me.
"Good morning, beautiful. I hated leaving you, but I couldn’t be late for work. I’ll see you later. Don’t miss me too much. P.S. You snore, and it’s adorable."
I laugh softly, pressing the note to my chest. Noah Ross is mine. I can’t believe it’s real. After everything—all the doubts and obstacles—we’re finally together.
Reluctantly, I get up and rush through my morning routine. By the time I arrive at the coffee shop, the place is bustling with activity. Customers crowd the tables, chatter fills the air, and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods wraps around me like a hug.
Violet is at the counter, her expression harried but determined as she hands over drinks and takes orders. A few tables are cluttered with empty mugs and plates, but I’m too elated to care. I make my way behind the counter, flashing her a grin.
“Morning!” I say cheerily.
She stops mid-motion, narrowing her eyes at me. “Girl, what’s up with you? You’re practically glowing. What happened last night?” she whispers, leaning in conspiratorially.
I laugh, feeling heat creep into my cheeks. “I’ll tell you later,” I murmur, brushing past her to stash my purse in my office.
The next few hours fly by in a blur of orders, smiles, and chaos. Violet throws me questioning glances every chance she gets, clearly dying to know what’s going on, but I stay tight-lipped. When things finally slow down, I’m behind the counter reorganizing the leftover pastries when I spot Mrs. Henrietta and Mrs. Mirtha walking in.
As always, they’re a vision in their matching floral dresses, gleaming pearl necklaces, perfectly coiffed hair, and their makeup flawless. They’re Honey Springs gossip royalty, and they know it.
“Well, if it isn’t our favorite mama-to-be!” Mrs. Mirtha exclaims, her sharp eyes zeroing in on me. “My dear Josy, how have you been feeling? That baby bump of yours is growing more beautiful by the day.”
I smile, touched by her warmth. “I’ve been feeling?—”
“Hold on just a minute,” Mrs. Henrietta interjects, waving a manicured finger at her friend. “Mirtha, are you calling Josy fat? Have you no tact?”
Mrs. Mirtha gasps, clutching her pearls dramatically. “Fat? Henrietta, I said beautiful. Maybe if you cleaned your glasses once in a while, you’d hear people correctly!”
“Don’t you start with me,” Henrietta huffs, planting her hands on her hips. “I hear just fine, and what I heard was you practically calling her a balloon!”
I can’t help but laugh, covering my mouth as they bicker like an old married couple.
“Ladies, ladies,” I say, holding up my hands. “I’ll have you know I feel great, and I don’t mind being compared to a balloon as long as it’s a pretty one.”
“That’s the spirit!” Mrs. Mirtha beams. “See, Henrietta? She has a sense of humor. You could learn a thing or two.”
