There was definite relief in his eyes when he said, “Sure thing. Let’s get you back home before you turn into a pumpkin.” I couldn’t figure out if it was a good or bad thing that Noah seemed to recognize the Cinderella-ness of my situation. Maybe he thought that tonight was our one shot at the ball, only I was telling him that I was ready to dash down the stairs and make a break for my carriage and leave my sole chance behind.
Because his assertion wasn’t too far off. Every moment since I’d met him had taken on this sort of Cinderella filter that was coloring everything around me. Like I was in somebody else’s Instagram story with mood lighting and hearts in my eyes. It wasn’t me, and tomorrow my pink Converse shoes would turn back into . . . well, they would stay pink Converse shoes. But this whole Noah Douglas thing would be over, and my life would be back to normal.
But, as my mother would say, them’s the breaks.
“Do you need to check in with anyone before we leave?” I asked, grabbing my clutch and making sure my phone was still inside.
“Reina and Morgan have other clients, and Annie’s off the clock and enjoying herself on the dance floor, where no one thinks she’s having a seizure. We’re good.”
I nudged him with my elbow as he enjoyed his own joke with a laugh. Then we said our goodbyes to Chase and Zoe, and she insisted on getting up to hug me. “I am going to look you up and I’ll be calling you!” she said.
“Sounds good!” I responded. I hoped she would. I genuinely liked her.
Then she told Noah, “You’ve got a good one there.”
He smiled, a real smile, and said, “I know.”
I didn’t bother protesting this time. Everybody seemed pretty set on their own interpretation of what was happening. Although my cheeks did flush slightly, and I hoped no one noticed.
“Let me just text Ray so he can meet us out front. Okay. Done. Shall we go?” he asked as he slid his phone into his pants pocket. Then he did the most adorable thing. He offered me his arm while his hands were still in his pockets. It was such an old-fashioned and sweet gesture it made my heart swoon. I wondered if he’d learned it when he did that remake of Pride and Prejudice. He’d been the absolute best Mr. Darcy.
I slid my arm through his, and as we walked out of the party, I was back to that upscale-zoo feeling. Flashes going off, people looking at us and whispering. “Everyone’s staring at us,” I told him.
“Are they?”
“Yes. And every last one of them is wondering if you lost a bet.”
That got me a real, full-throated laugh again that still felt thrilling, and another part of my defenses melted.
“Not true. They’re all wondering how I got so lucky.”
I let out a grunt of disbelief. I had always been comfortable in my own skin and with my appearance. Sure, there were times I wished my thighs were a little smaller or my boobs a little bigger or that I could tan in the sun instead of frying like a lobster, but for the most part I was okay with me.
But I didn’t have any delusions that I was on the same level with the typical women he dated, because I was not the double-D, fluorescent-white teeth, hair extensions, and fake eyelashes kind of girl. The kind that filled this room.
“More like they wondered how you got lucky when you had that Hannah person as your date.”
“Hannah? That was a setup by my publicist.”
I blinked in surprise. Shelby had called that one, too. “Do you do everything your publicist tells you to do?”
He took a moment, as if collecting his thoughts. “I started out my career on a kids’ show. I played a character named Felix. A lot of actors never overcome that one role they are famous for. It becomes the only way the public can see them. I was in danger of that happening to me, but I have an amazing team who has guided me onto the path I wanted to be on. My agent, Sandy, and Reina are the best in the business. So when Reina said, ‘Bring Hannah Fremont as your date,’ I did.”
“What about tonight?” I asked.
“They said I could make tonight about me.”
The implication was there—that me being with him as his not-a-date was what he wanted. I couldn’t deny what he seemed to be admitting without using the actual words.
When I didn’t respond, he kept talking. “Sandy and Reina are the reason I’m where I am in my career.”
He was really selling himself short, and it made me lay on the sarcasm nice and thick. “Yes, your talent has nothing to do with it, I suppose.”
“Another backhanded compliment. You keep giving me those and I might get a big head.”
“Might?” I teased. “I don’t think you need any help there.”
He laughed again, and the world around me became so dazzling and bright that it took me a second to come back down to earth. So it took me another second to realize that someone was calling his name from a distance. More than one person. But his long legs kept eating up the ground in front of us, and I was glad I could keep pace. “I think someone said your name.”
“A lot of people say my name. I don’t have to respond. I promised you a ride home, and right now that’s what I’m going to do. My debt to this particular society has been paid in full for the night. I’m off the clock now.”
His words made my toes tingle. Why did it make me feel brilliant and special that I was the only thing he was focusing on? That in this moment, keeping his word to me was more important than anything else?
The sea of photographers outside had pretty much cleared out, and there was only a handful of fans waiting near where the cars were picking up people leaving the party. We had to wait only about a minute, and Noah waved to the remaining fans who were calling to him.
I wondered if any of them were going to try to attach themselves to him like a baby sloth, but they were fairly outnumbered by the guards.
The car pulled up, and Noah opened the door for me. I got in, and he slid in next to me.
And closed the door. And the car left.
“Wait. Aren’t we forgetting some people?”
“No.”
“What about your merry band of work wives?”
A smile. “They can take care of their own travel. They can just call our car service. They’ll be safe.”
He had a car service? Couldn’t he have just called that for me, too?
He wants to take you home. He still wants to spend time with you.
It seemed so dumb that I hadn’t really figured that out before, that he wanted to be alone with me without his entourage around, but it was like it had just occurred to me and I didn’t know what to think.
“Ray needs your address,” Noah said. “Or if there’s somewhere else you want to go, we can take you there instead.”
Why was I getting the distinct impression that if I told him I was in the mood for Rio de Janeiro, we’d be heading for an airport? “Home is good.”
I recited it to the driver, and Ray nodded. “We’ll get you there quick as we can, but there’s traffic.”
It was LA. There was always traffic.
Then Ray pushed a button to raise the dividing barrier between the front and back of the car. The movement of that dark window sliding into place had this feeling of finality for me.
It made the space feel so small, and Noah was so big, sucking up all the room left in the back seat.