Page 42 of Cluelessly Yours

Grant carries around the little sloth Noah got for him like it’s his new best friend, taking him to kindergarten and sleeping with him at night and even asking for a separate plate of dinner for the furry friend.

And every time I see it in his backpack or tucked in his arm or at the fourth chair at our table, I think of Noah.

Of how he is with the boys. Of how he is with me.

I shake myself out of my thoughts and focus on the priority at hand—table forty-two. Vin asked me to give them the five-star treatment, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

“Good evening,” I say cordially to the well-dressed man and woman who look about twenty years older than me. “I’m Sammy, the general manager here at La Croisette, and I just wanted to stop by and introduce myself and make sure everything is going well with your meal.”

The gentleman smiles up at me after placing his soup spoon back on the plate beneath his lobster bisque. “Everything is splendid.”

“Very delicious bisque,” the woman adds. “Compliments to the chef.”

“I’m so glad to hear that. It’s one of Chef Vinny’s specialties,” I respond with my most professional smile. “He’ll be thrilled to hear your praise.”

They eat up my ego-fluffing, and I lean forward to whisper conspiratorially. “And if you don’t mind, after you finish your dinner, I’m going to have your server bring over a dessert that’s not technically on the menu but will undoubtedly finish your meal off perfectly. The only stipulation is that you have to let me surprise you.”

The woman beams and rubs two hands together. “Oh, this sounds like fun.”

“Just tell me one thing…do you like chocolate?”

She nods with wide, excited eyes. And her dinner mate chuckles. “My wife doesn’t just like chocolate, shelovesit.”

“Good.” I grin. “Consider your dessert on the house.”

Both of them beam, and I don’t waste any more time interrupting their meal. “Enjoy your dinner.”

But as I walk away from their table, my eyes drift in a very predictable direction again.

Noah is still alone, sipping on amber liquor of some sort. From previous occasions I’ve shared with him at my sister’s behest, I’d imagine it’s bourbon.

He hasn’t asked you out because you’re too closed off.My sister’s words at lunch on Monday echo inside my mind.Noah cares about you.

Is Brooke right? Is the only reason he hasn’t asked me out because I’m not showing signs of being open to it?

Now is your chance to find out, my mind whispers.Just go over there and talk to him.

My feet are heading in his direction before my brain even agrees to it. When I make it to his table, his concentration on the condensation on his drink is intense enough to give me time for one last deep breath.

In and out, I try to filter everything but confidence out of my lungs.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Noah looks up with an instantaneous smile. It’s like he doesn’t even have to see me. He knows the sound of my voice. “Sammy!”

“I didn’t realize you were one of our reservations tonight,” I respond with an equally big smile. “Please tell me you didn’t do all this work to make sure I follow through on the white-wine-soaked-mussels offer. I would have hand-delivered those to your apartment. I probably should have already,” I admit sheepishly.

“I’ve actually had this reservation for a while. I was hoping I’d see you tonight, though. But I wasn’t sure if you were going to be too busy to say hello.”

Flutters of affection lap at my stomach as Noah’s blue eyes hold mine captive.

“I would never not make time to say hi to you, Noah,” I confess, forcing myself to hold my position and the eye contact.

“That’s a high compliment from someone as busy as you are,” Noah remarks tenderly. “I promise to be worth the effort, okay?”

A promise to be worth the effort? If that isn’t a sign, I don’t know what is.

I have to open myself up to the possibility of more. I have to give myself the freedom to feel love. I have to—

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