to take our order at that moment. Noah told him about the appetizer we wanted, and then I ordered eggplant parmigiana.
“I’m vegan, so can you please leave off all the cheese? Unless you have plant-based cheese products, that is.”
“No, miss, I’m sorry. We don’t.” The waiter looked a little perturbed. “But I can serve it without cheese, though then it’s not really parmigiana anymore. Also, the eggplant itself is dipped in egg and breaded.”
I sighed. “Okay. Can you do the eggplant just fried without breading, please? I really appreciate it.”
The server nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.” He shifted his attention to Noah. “And for you, sir?”
Noah ordered spaghetti with meatballs, and then the waiter left. I tried not to look back at the picture takers. Noah was right; I had to learn to just pretend they weren’t there.
He took a sip of wine and smiled at me. “I’m so glad we could do this. I missed you these last couple of weeks.”
“I know. I missed you, too.” I wrinkled my nose and leaned forward. “I guess this was a little foretaste of when you’re at training camp, huh? I should get used to talking to you by text and phone calls once the season starts.”
“I had an idea about that.” Noah linked our hands again, his eyes sparkling. “I was thinking how much I’m dreading the time when I have to give football almost all my time again. And I thought . . . why don’t you move into my house?”
My mouth dropped open. “What?”
“Move in with me, babe.” He lowered his head and spoke quietly. “Listen, we both know that’s the direction we’re going, right? We know we want to be together, and that will mean moving in together. Well, why should we wait?”
“Uh, well, for a lot of reasons,” I sputtered. “One of which is that I work over ninety minutes away from your house. That’s a hell of a commute for me.”
“I was thinking about that, too. I know you love St. Agnes, but maybe you could start to split your time. You know, cut down your hours in Harper Springs, and when you were working there—say two or three days a week—you could stay at the cabin. Then the rest of the time, you could be in Tampa.”
“And what am I going to do with the rest of my time?” Dismay was evident in my voice—at least, it was to me—but Noah just plowed ahead.
“Well, you wouldn’t have to do anything, if you didn’t want to. But if you did, if you were bored or whatever, you could see about working at a hospital or a smaller practice in Tampa. Or if you didn’t want to do that, we’re setting up Angela’s foundation, and I know we could use your help there.”
“Noah, no.” I was careful to speak quietly, too, well aware that now others were looking at us, too, thanks to the picture-takers. “I don’t want to work on the foundation. I think it’s a wonderful, worthwhile cause,” I added hastily. “But I’m a doctor. I don’t want to do anything else.”
He shrugged. “Okay. Then find something at a hospital. You’re an excellent doctor, Emma. You won’t have trouble finding something.”
“What about my cabin? My land?” Having my own property where I could indulge in my favorite passions—growing food and herbs, making my own supplements—had been my dream for a long time. Noah knew this. We’d talked about it often.
“You can keep it. That can be our country home.” A grin spread over his face. “We can stay there more in the off-season. That works out well, anyway, because our off-season is farming season in Florida. See? It’s perfect.”
It was not perfect, not by a long shot, but I was trying not to let myself get upset. Noah loved me, I knew this. He cared about my dreams, about my career and my life. I just had to figure out a way to make both of our lives work together.
Our appetizer was served, and I took those few moments to re-center myself while the waiter fussed, placing small plates in front of both of us and describing the fresh oil and tomatoes that were part of the dish. Once he’d gone away again, I took a deep breath.
“Listen, baby.” I gripped his hands, looking into his eyes. “I am so . . . touched that you would suggest that. But I think it’s too soon.” When he started to speak, I shook my