Page 18 of Noel with the Mountain Man
While I'm out, I stop at a small hardware store and buy something else. Something I've been thinking about since last night.
When I get back, Noel's made the bed with fresh sheets and is attempting to organize the kitchen.
"How can anyone live like this?" she asks, gesturing at the haphazard cabinet situation. "There's no system."
We spend an hour rearranging everything to her specifications, and I pretend to grumble about it even though I love watching her make this place ours.
That night, we make dinner together. She tells me about her ex, about how he always made her feel like she was bothtoo muchandnot enough.
"He was wrong," I say, chopping vegetables.
"I'm starting to believe that."
"Good." I set down the knife and turn to her. "Because you're not too much. You're exactly right."
She kisses me, and we nearly burn dinner because neither of us can stop touching each other long enough to focus.
After we eat, I lead her to the couch. "I have something for you."
"Another orgasm?"
"Later,” I say, smiling. I pull out the small box from my jacket pocket. “It’s a small thing…”
Her eyes widen. "Kyler—"
"Don’t panic,” I say with a laugh. “Just open it."
She does, and pulls out a simple key.
"It's to my place," I explain. "In Lexington. I want you to have it. So you can come and go whenever you want. So you know you have a place with me."
Her eyes fill with tears. "That's..."
"Too much?"
"Perfect." She launches herself at me, and I catch her, laughing. "It's perfect. You're perfect."
"Far from it."
"Perfect for me, then." She pulls back to look at me. "I don't have a key to give you. But I have this."
She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small plastic snowman—the kind that's clearly from a kindergarten craftproject. One of its stick arms is slightly crooked, and there's too much glitter.
"My students made these before break. This is the one I made." She sets it in my palm. "I know it's not fancy, but—"
"It's perfect," I say, echoing her words. Because it is. It's bright and messy and full of joy. Just like her.
I set it on the mantel next to our popcorn garland, and when I return to her side, she leans against me, surveying our strange little collection of decorations.
"We're really doing this," she says softly.
"Yeah. We are."
"My friends are going to think I'm crazy."
"My sister definitely will." I pause. "She's been trying to set me up for a year. She's going to lose her mind when I tell her I met someone."
"Good crazy or bad crazy?"
