A couple days after the press conference, I waited for Noah at Miranda’s Brew for lunch. I nibbled on a turkey sandwich while my coffee cooled. Soon, I spotted Noah at the counter as he paid for his coffee and salad.
After Noah finished at the counter, I waved him down. I smiled broadly as he brought his food and briefcase over to the small table at which I sat. He returned the smile timidly.
“Good afternoon, Noah,” I said as he sat down.
“Good afternoon,” he replied, although his response was missing his normal enthusiasm.
“Is something wrong?”
“No, no, of course not.” He paused. “So, how did Andrew take the flowers?”
I cringed.
“Not well, at first.” I brushed the matter off with a wave of my hand. “Don’t worry. We got past it.”
Noah frowned but nodded.
“That’s good, I suppose
