Forever Theirs

Chapter 6

Before anyone could voice their needs, the insistent shrill of my phone sliced through the studio air. I pivoted, leaving the unfolding conversation with the photographers, and walked back towards the quiet sanctuary of my office to answer the interruption. The caller ID illuminated Noah's name, a familiar comfort. I slipped inside my office, closing the door to muffle the ambient noise of the studio, and settled into my worn desk chair. With a tap, I answered the call, immediately placing it on speakerphone so my hands remained free. My fingers danced across the keyboard, pulling up the familiar website of our go-to pizza place, ready to take down the lunch orders for the team. Noah's voice flowed through the speakers, a smooth, calming cadence that always seemed to ease the edges of my stress. I leaned back in my chair, the gentle rumble of his words washing over me. Soothed by his presence, I realized with a start that I had completely missed a question he had posed. "Sorry," I mumbled, a sheepish grin spreading across my face despite him not being able to see it. "Could you repeat that?" A warm chuckle resonated through the phone. "Just wondering if you've had lunch yet," he repeated, amusement lacing his tone. "Not yet," I replied, glancing at the clock on my computer screen. "Still in the deliberation phase of what exactly I'm craving." Our conversation meandered pleasantly, touching on the ebbs and flows of my day so far. I recounted a particularly challenging photoshoot and the usual flurry of last-minute client requests. I also mentioned my plan to make a quick trip to the store after the studio doors closed for the day, a necessary restocking mission to replenish our dwindling supplies. "Hold on a sec," I told Noah, pausing our chat. I scooped up the laptop and carried it out to where my employees were gathered, their heads now huddled together in animated discussion. "Pizza time!" I announced, placing the laptop in their midst so they could collectively decide on their preferred toppings and combinations.

While the photographers debated the merits of pepperoni versus mushrooms, I retreated back to the quiet of my office, resuming my conversation with Noah. We talked a little longer, the comfortable silence punctuated by occasional updates from the other room as the pizza order slowly took shape. Eventually, with promises to catch up later, we disconnected the call.

My attention shifted to the small notification that had popped up on my phone screen while I was engrossed in my conversation with Noah. It was a reminder about my doctor's appointment scheduled for the following day. I quickly typed out a message to my assistant, requesting his presence at the office. With that task delegated, I returned to the inventory spreadsheet, my fingers flying across the keyboard as I meticulously updated the counts. The aroma of freshly baked pizza eventually wafted through the studio, a tantalizing reminder of the impending lunch break. I closed the inventory file, grabbed my purse and keys from my desk, and headed out to the car to pick up the order. The short drive was filled with the comforting scent of melting cheese and warm dough. Back at the studio, balancing the stack of pizza boxes, I made my way to the break room, announcing to everyone where I was placing the much-anticipated food. Retreating once more to my office, I noticed an unexpected figure seated in the chair by my desk. Their back was to the door, obscuring their identity. A polite, "Can I help you?" escaped my lips as I walked further into the room. As I rounded my desk and sat down, the figure turned, and my question dissolved into laughter. It was Noah, a warm smile lighting up his face.

"Surprise," he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He picked up a small, unassuming bag from his lap and offered it to me. A question mark hung in my expression as I took the bag. Peeking inside, my heart did a little flutter. He hadn't just brought me lunch; he had thoughtfully prepared my absolute favorite sandwich: ham and cheese with crisp lettuce and juicy tomatoes. Nestled beside it were a chilled Sprite and a bottle of water. I closed my laptop, the inventory momentarily forgotten. Moving over to the small round table where Noah was already sitting, I arranged my impromptu feast. I placed the sandwich on a plate, adding a small handful of chips for good measure. As I took the first blissful bite, Noah simply watched me, a soft, contented smile playing on his lips. Only after I swallowed did he begin to eat his own food, his conversation flowing easily as he inquired about the rest of my day and my plans for the evening after closing the studio. "Well," I began after finishing another bite, "I was planning on doing a thorough clean of the studio. And then I need to run to the store. We're getting low on a few essentials." We continued to talk for another half hour, the comfortable familiarity of our connection filling the room. Eventually, Noah stood, offering a lingering hug before heading out.

With Noah gone, I returned to the task of inventory, double-checking the storage closet to identify any cleaning supplies that needed immediate restocking. The afternoon passed in a blur of organizing and tidying. As the last client and photographer bid their farewells, I walked them to the front door, ensuring the lock clicked securely behind them. I turned off the upbeat music that had been the studio's soundtrack for the day and flicked off the lights, plunging the space into a quiet darkness.