Noah smiled in a way that made my knees weak. It was a good thing I was sitting down.
“I have an idea,” he said. “Let’s take this pizza to go.”
15.
Noah had his waiter friend box up our pizza, then he drove us out to the harbour. It was late evening, so there weren’t many boats coming and going. Looking out to sea, I felt a small measure of calm, and my appetite returned. We climbed the high wall that surrounded the harbour and sat with our legs dangling over the edge as we ate.
“So, what are you going to do about your fanboy?” Noah asked, nudging me with his shoulder.
I glanced at him. “You mean Kean? Nothing to do. He’s … whatever.” I said, making an annoyed hand gesture.
“He’s … whatever,” Noah mimicked, and I gaped at him, a grin tugging at my lips.
“Did you just do an impression of me?”
“What if I did?” he shot back in a voice that was freakily similar to mine.
“Oh, my goodness, stop. You’re freaking me out.” I swiped at his shoulder.
He chuckled impishly, and I studied him. His personality was an odd dichotomy of man and boy. Sometimes I saw the world-weariness of a person who’d lived a hundred lifetimes in his eyes, and then others he seemed like a mischievous little kid, just now especially.
“I forgot how good you are at accents. I guess that goes for impressions, too.”
He smirked. “I’m pretty sure I can be good at a lot of things.”
A heat warmed my cheeks, and I glanced away, changing the subject. “What’s been going on in the world of Aleksy anyway?”
Noah blew out a breath. “I packed the bartending in when I got the job with Mayor McBride, so Aleksy’s been retired for a bit.”
“That’s too bad,” I said, an attempt to flirt. “The Polish accent suits you.”
He lifted an eyebrow, like my comment surprised and intrigued him. “Oh yeah?” He slipped into Aleksy’s accent effortlessly. “You like a bit of the old Aleksy, do you?”
“Maybe.”
“I’ll have to talk like this more often,” he said, leaning in close.
“Okay, stop now. It’s too weird how believable you are.” Besides, I thought to myself, his real voice would always be my favourite.
He gave an amused laugh and picked up his slice of pizza, taking the last few bites.
“Thanks for the phone by the way,” I said. I’d been meaning to thank him for a while, but whenever I was around him I got distracted and forgot.
“You’re welcome. If there’s anything else you need, just ask.”
Wow, that was nice of him. “I think the phone is more than enough. I know you spent a lot more on it than what I gave you. I’ll pay you back.”
He waved me off. “No need.”
“I insist.”
He cast me a speculative glance. “You can help me with tomorrow night then.”
“You mean with the get together you’re throwing for all your parents’ old friends?” He nodded. “What do you need help with?”
“The food, mainly. I can’t cook for shit. I’ll take care of the booze.”
“In that case, we better stop off and get some groceries on the way home.”
“That can be arranged.”
We finished eating and made our way back down the wall. Noah put his hands to my waist, lifting me the final few feet before settling me on the ground. I flushed at the intimate touch, remembering his words from back in the restaurant.
I’m the only one who gets to touch you.
Barely suppressing a shiver, I followed him back to where he’d parked the car.
***
When Dad and I first moved into Vee’s house, one of my favourite things to do was hide inside the dumbwaiter. I was fourteen, way too old for hide and seek, but I still got a kick out of sneaking in and waiting for my dad to walk by. I’d jump out, and he’d clutch his heart in fright, then we’d laugh about it while Vee shook her head at my childish antics.
She’d never been particularly caring or fond of me while Dad was alive, but she hadn’t been outright cruel. Not like she was now. Maybe I was too much of a reminder of the husband she lost.
We looked so much alike with the same thick brown hair and wide brown eyes.
Guilt tugged at my chest as I prepared a large charcuterie board for Noah’s get-together tonight. I couldn’t seem to rid myself of thoughts of Vee, her presence as she hid away up in her room could be felt all around the house. It was a heavy, oppressive sense of bleakness. I felt an odd lack of anger towards her now, and I didn’t know why. Maybe because she just seemed so lost.
I should try harder to help her.
The worst she could do was tell me to eff off, that she didn’t want my help. My dad had loved her, so she must’ve had some redeeming qualities.