Why would he want to be with someone like you? the voice whispered at me, and this time I didn’t have an answer.
I put my van in park and turned off the ignition. I got out of the car to switch places with him, and when we crossed paths in front, he stopped to give me a hug. “Just in case I get us into an accident and we don’t make it,” he teased.
“Don’t wreck my van,” I told him.
“I’ll do my best.”
We got back in and put on our seat belts. I told him to put his foot on the brake and turn the key to start the engine.
“Your check-engine light is on,” he said, pointing at the dashboard.
“I checked it. The engine is still there.”
“Funny,” he said in a tone that indicated he didn’t think it was funny at all. “It seems ominous.”
“It’s fine.”
“I’m pretty sure that it’s more of an order than a suggestion. I don’t think cars give you a heads-up just in case you feel like investigating.”
“I can’t afford to take it in.” There was a silence that hung there and I could feel how much he wanted to offer to pay for it, but it was my responsibility, not his.
We were just friends.
Then I went and blew my own inner declaration by asking, “Where did you go last night?”
“I had to go have drinks with this journalist, Mike something, for an interview about my upcoming release. Have I told you about that yet? It’s about the life of Blackbeard. It was fun playing a pirate. Anyway, I ended up being a little bit late for it because of your mom’s play.”
Given Noah’s loose relationship with time, I realized that his little bit late was probably quite a bit late, and I melted at the thought that he had done that for me. I’d been jealous for no reason.
Not that I was even allowed to feel envious of what he was doing or who he was with.
“Wait,” he said. “What’s with that tone? Are you jealous?”
“No.”
“You are,” he practically gloated. “You’re jealous. You thought I was with another woman.”
“You’re allowed to date whoever you want. We’re friends. It’s fine.”
“You don’t seem fine.” He was enjoying this way too much. “But you don’t have to worry. You’re the only person I’m sort of kissing and then making ill.”
“Good.” I hadn’t meant that word to slip out, and I ignored his goofy grin. “Back to driving. Have you ever played Mario Kart?”
“No.”
“That’s a relief, because real driving is nothing like video games. You have to take the car out of park and put it in drive. You steer with the steering wheel and let your foot off the brake and then press slowly on the gas. Don’t run into stuff and press the brake when you want to stop. That’s pretty much it.”
He did as I’d instructed him, inching the van forward. And he didn’t accelerate. At all. While he didn’t strike me as a cautious person, he was driving like he was eighty and had cataracts.
“You can go a little faster,” I told him. “If you were driving any slower, we’d be going backward.”
He had hunched over the steering wheel, and I could see the strain in his shoulders and his forearms. His very excellent forearms.
The van lurched forward as he gave it too much gas.
I put my hand on his thigh. “You have to do it slowly. You can’t push it that hard. Ease into it. Just go slowly.”
He glanced down at my hand. “That’s not helping me relax.”
I quickly pulled back. “Sorry.”
We did more lurches and slamming stops, and I was glad that I was wearing a seat belt. Part of me wanted to tease him, but his frustration was palpable. This went on for about five minutes before he’d apparently had enough.
He swore and put the car in park. “I don’t like being bad at things.”
“I can’t imagine it happens to you very often.”
“Nope.”
“Welcome to my world,” I told him.
His body softened at that, finally relaxing. He reached out to caress the side of my face. “You’re not bad at kissing. You’re just scared. There’s a difference.”
Noah really was an amazing man, and I felt so lucky to be hanging out with him. I was struck with the desire to do something nice for him, to show him how much I liked him.
“We need a break,” I announced. “Switch places with me.”
Instead of getting out of the van, I climbed over the seats so he could move over, and then I got into the spot he’d just vacated.
I did a quick search on my phone and started following the directions. He reached for the phone, but I swatted his hand away.
“Where are you taking me?” he asked. “If you don’t tell me, that’s basically kidnapping.”
I just smiled. “It’s also called a surprise.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“Where have you brought me?” he asked when we got out of the van.
“You really were sheltered, weren’t you? This is called an arcade.”
He frowned briefly at me. “I know what an arcade is. I suck at driving so your first thought was, what, let’s play video games?”
“Not quite.” This time I reached for his hand and brought him inside. Just as I’d hoped, the two party rooms were filled with screaming kids and balloons. “You said your biggest regret was not getting to have or go to a birthday party as a kid. I found you two.”
“We can’t just crash some kid’s party. Or two parties.”
“Sure we can. You’re Malec Shadowfire. They’re going to be thrilled that you’re here.” I went into one of the rooms and waved. “Hi, everyone! Is it okay if we join you?”
At first there were a lot of confused looks from both the adults and the kids until one little blond toddler came over to him, his mouth hanging open. He stared up at Noah and then uttered a single word. “Malec.”
Then all of the kids were swarming Noah, shouting questions at him, hanging on to his legs, tugging at his hands. One of the parents approached, asking if she could get a picture of him with the children. He said sure, and there were excited giggles and some very adorable pictures taken.
After dozens of photos had been shot by all the adults, I said, “You guys, I think Malec Shadowfire needs some birthday cake.” One of the moms nearly broke her own neck in a rush to cut Noah a piece of cake.
I, however, did not get one.
He ate his cake with everyone staring at him, and then the apparent birthday boy said, “I want to open more presents!” That got everyone’s attention and the boy, who, according to the giant poster hanging on the wall, was named Tucker, climbed into a chair to keep opening gifts. And seeing new toys held more appeal than Noah apparently, as the kids migrated over to watch him tear into wrapping paper.
All except for one little girl. She had to be about four or five, her curly brown hair in two pigtails, and she was wearing a Disney Belle dress. Her eyes were enormous and sad-looking. Noah crouched down to her eye level. “Hi.”
“Why did Malec have to die?” she asked, her lower lip trembling. “He was good. He shouldn’t have died.”