Chapter 9 - THE MAN WHO DIDN'T ASK ME TO COMPETE
I met Noah Reed in a bookstore in Cannon Beach.
Not dramatically.
No spilled coffee.
No accidental collision.
No cinematic moment.
I was standing in the travel section, holding a guidebook upside down.
He noticed.
“Either that's a very unusual reading technique, or you're having a difficult day.”
I looked up.
A tall man stood beside me.
Dark hair.
Warm brown eyes.
A faded green jacket.
I glanced at the book.
Then laughed.
“Both.”
He smiled.
“Fair enough.”
His name was Noah.
He was thirty-six.
An architect.
Recently moved back to Oregon after several years in Portland.
He was looking for a book about coastal restoration.
I was looking for something to do besides think about my canceled wedding.
We ended up talking for twenty minutes.
Then he asked:
“Would you like coffee?”
I hesitated.
He smiled.
“No pressure. There's a place across the street with excellent cinnamon rolls.”
I looked at him.
“Are the cinnamon rolls really that good?”
He nodded solemnly.
“Life-changing.”
I laughed.
“Okay.”
We sat beside a window overlooking the ocean.
We talked about books.
Architecture.
Travel.
Bad movies.
Favorite childhood memories.
For the first time in months, I wasn't explaining why I deserved consideration.
I was simply having a conversation.
At one point, Noah's phone rang.
He glanced at the screen.
“My sister,” he said.
I felt my stomach tighten.
He noticed.
“Everything okay?”
I nodded.
“Yeah.”
He looked at the phone.
Then silenced it.
“I'll call her back later.”
I stared.
“You don't need to answer?”
He smiled.
“If it's urgent, she'll text.”
I looked down at my coffee.
Such a small thing.
Such an ordinary thing.
And somehow it nearly made me cry.
Noah leaned forward.
“Emma, are you sure you're okay?”
I took a slow breath.
Then said:
“I recently canceled my wedding.”
He blinked.
“Oh.”
I laughed nervously.
“That's probably not first-coffee conversation.”
He smiled gently.
“It's your conversation. You can tell it however you want.”
I looked at him.
And for the first time in a long time, I felt no pressure to perform.
We walked along the beach afterward.
The wind was cold.
The waves loud.
Noah didn't ask for my number until we reached the parking lot.
And when he did, he said:
“If you'd rather not, that's completely fine.”
I smiled.
“I'd like that.”
He grinned.
“Good.”
As I drove back to my hotel, my phone buzzed.
A message from Daniel.
Mia says you're seeing someone. Is that true?
I stared at the screen.
May you like
Then turned the phone face down.
For once, Daniel didn't get to decide what my evening meant.
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