Chapter Thirteen

KATE

“How did you seriously not know John Cryer was in Pretty in Pink?”

Noah walks alongside me, ice cream cone in hand as he shrugs his shoulders. I question his choice of flavor—mint chocolate. He might as well have been eating toothpaste.

“The Two and a Half Men guy?”

“Yes, the Two and a Half Men guy,” I repeat, walking beside him while indulging in my own delicious choice of butter pecan. If Americans do anything well, it’s their ice cream. “He played Ducky.”

“Is this like some rom-com movie?”

I stop mid-step, yanking him back to me, which almost causes his ice cream to topple over. Annoyed, he performs a balancing act before expressing an annoyed look.

“Just to be clear,” I state, passionate about the subject we’re discussing, “You’re telling me you’ve never heard of the movie Pretty in Pink?”

Again, he shrugs his shoulders, oblivious to the serious nature our conversation had just turned. I’m mind blown while observing him. Watching him carry on like this isn’t a big deal.

Sure, he’s a guy, but Pretty in Pink is like a rite of passage into adulthood.

“The movie has the word ‘pink’ in it,” he complains, furrowing his brows together. “Die Hard doesn’t have the word ‘pink’ in it. Now, that’s a great movie.”

“Oh, Noah.” I sigh, continuing to walk with my head shaking. “There’s so much I need to teach you, young grasshopper.”

We stroll along the boardwalk, welcoming the sea breeze. I’d only ever been to Santa Monica Pier once, and the experience was extremely enjoyable. It reminds me of a lot of Brighton Pier, a seaside amusement venue in East Sussex. My parents took us there as children, and along with that came great memories.

As we stroll along the pier, the sun begins to set, sinking into the Pacific Ocean, which surrounds us. The view is amazing, cathartic, and easing the stress building within me as the time ticks closer to going back to Manhattan.

Various shops line the pier, snack shacks to shops selling trinkets as well as souvenirs. We’ve already hit the old-fashioned soda shop, but nevertheless, I still enjoy looking at each store and seeing what they offer for sale.

A few local fishermen are hovering by the edge, toying with their yarn in hopes of scoring the catch of the day. They don’t appear annoyed by the noise of the children running around or the screams echoing from the thrilling rides surrounding us.

We head toward the large Ferris wheel called the Pacific Wheel. Noah buys us two tickets, and then we stand in line behind two other patrons. It’s been years since I last rode a Ferris wheel, the novelty of it all somewhat amusing in my head.

“Are you looking forward to going back home?” Noah asks before the attendant opens the carriage door to let us on.

We sit side by side as I lace my arm into his to block myself from the sea breeze knocking the carriage about. Holding onto him feels comfortable, and unlike other men I’ve been around, he never makes me feel uncomfortable when our bodies touch. Perhaps our misadventures that first night broke all tension between us. Though funnily enough, Noah and I never feel any tension—the two of us just gel.

I purse my lips, staring into the ocean and admiring the panoramic views as we begin to rise. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

“You don’t like New York City?”

Letting out a sigh, I think about his question. Noah has this odd way of reading my mind before I’ve even said a word. In ways, he’s much like Charlie. The two of them are very intuitive, or perhaps I’m just too comfortable around them, and my body language is readable.

“Home isn’t Manhattan…”

“Then what?” he questions. “England?”

I shrug my shoulders, the void in my answer only raising more questions within my racing mind. What’s wrong with being a nomad? Perhaps I don’t need a home. My purpose in life can be to wander the earth alone. Gee, can I sound any more pathetic and morbid?

“Does it have to be a place?” I pose the question back to him. “What if you don’t know where home is because it’s not a physical destination?”

Noah nods with his distant stare. Like me, the ocean view becomes magnetic, almost as if with every crash of the waves onto the shoreline, a piece of us washes away.

“So, this guy, Dominic,” Noah mentions the name with slight animosity. “If that’s what you want to call him.”

I laugh, knocking his shoulder trying to lighten my mood. “Do you think I faked a name? That’s his real name.”

“You’re in love with him.”

“I’m not…” I stammer, hating the words ‘love’ and ‘Dominic’ in the same sentence. “It’s not love, okay? Yes, I feel something, but I’m not “in love” with him.” I use air quotes to accentuate it.

Rather than speak, Noah nods his head knowingly, a habit of his when he either tries to think of something inappropriate to say or has nothing to say at all. I watch his profile, admiring his sharp jawline. He has the kind of face that stops you in your tracks—handsome and striking like an iconic movie star.

“So, help me out here. Connect the dots… you’re not in love with him?” Noah asks, raising his brow while watching me. “But you’ve still got no response, and you’re pining for him?”

“Pining for him?” I laugh again, his choice of word humorous. “Who are you? Danielle Steel?”

His eyes gleam as his chuckles softly, making him even more handsome.

“Look, I spent this week with a bunch of romance authors, so cut me some slack. I’m trying to understand this whole love thing.”

Our carriage stops at the top of the Ferris wheel. The view is breathtaking, the California coastline stretching for miles in the distance. Beneath us, a ray of bright lights illuminates the pier as crowds of people stroll around. It’s nothing like Manhattan. The open space allows me to breathe for just a moment to take it all in.

“This is beautiful,” I murmur. “I feel so…”

“Content,” Noah says, while I squeeze into his side tighter. “It’s like a whole other world up here.”

“It really is,” I whisper, breathing in the fresh air. “So, are you telling me Noah Mason has never been in love before?”

With a slow and steady gait, his usual long pause is accompanied by him loosening his shoulders. “I’m not cut out to fall in love. I just want to have a good time.”

Noah’s honesty is very forthcoming, and what makes our friendship unique. In his presence, I feel my complete self without the lies I often tell to please everyone. Eric is great, but his immaturity at times, becomes too much for me. I crave a real man by my side, and not necessarily someone I need to fuck or marry.

Despite our closer relationship now, Lex will always be my mentor. I rely on him to educate me, teach me how to succeed. We have a professional relationship as well as a personal friendship that took years in the making. Even if Charlie wasn’t in the picture, he isn’t the type of guy I’d sit around the couch with and watch movies with an oversized tub of popcorn. However, in the boardroom, there’s no one else I would rather be with.

Yet with Noah, there’s this feeling of completeness between us. Like I’ve known him my whole life when, in fact, it’s been two weeks.

“How do you know you’re not cut out to fall in love if you’ve never been?”

“I guess you have a point,” he agrees, his expression indifferent. “I can’t say it’s something I think about. As I said, I just live life on my terms.”

I nod, agreeing with everything. Before Dominic, I lived life on my terms, and now I’m here in a cul-de-sac of regret.

“So question…” I pose, shuffling onto my side, so I’m facing him. “Why did you agree to the bet on settling down?”

Noah raises his eyebrows, the smug expression radiating superiority while he rests his arm on the back of the carriage.

“I don’t like to lose.”

I roll my eyes, smacking him on the chest lightly causing him to scowl.

“Charlie is so determined. She’s like cupid reincarnated,” I tell him, hoping he understands Charlie’s passion to spread love in this world. “If she thinks she can get you to settle down, have babies so she’ll have nieces or nephews, she’ll make it happen.”

“Cue the baby talk,” Noah groans. “I’ll keep the charade up, so she thinks I’m serious. But don’t you dare tell her otherwise. Whose team are you on, anyway?”

I let out a long-winded sigh. “You’re preaching to someone who thinks love is a giant fucked-up ball, and relationships are—”

“Unnecessary?”

“Trouble.”

The Ferris wheel begins to move again until finally, our carriage is at ground level, and it’s time for us to hop off.

We hit up the arcade, passing the time with some old favorites while we laugh over our competitive streaks. Noah doesn’t treat me differently because I’m a woman, and his competitive streak only wants me to prove him wrong for once. We argue while lost in the world of Pac-Man, battled each other at pinball, and then, I challenged him to dance revolution. At first, he argued and said not a chance in hell, but with a much-needed push of calling him a loser, he relented and won the goddamn competition. The guy can dance.

“So, you can move. Big deal,” I complain.

“You’re such a sore loser,” he gloats, jabbing my ribs with his finger. “Just when I thought you were unbreakable, I broke you.”

Catching my breath, we leave the arcade and step back outside. I quickly check my phone, noting the time. With an early morning flight, it’s almost time for me to leave if I want to catch any sleep.

“I should probably go,” I tell Noah.

“Wow, I knew you were competitive, but now you’re bailing on me because you lost?”

With a wide grin, unable to hide my true feelings, I push him toward the edge of the pier trying to spook him.

“Don’t get so cocky. I’ll be back, and your arse is my target.”

“You think you’re so fancy with your British arse talk,” he mocks, throwing an accent to imitate me. “I expect you back here. I’ll challenge you, but I’m pretty certain those legs of yours can’t keep up with me.”

“Hey,” I shout, oblivious to the people surrounding us. “I’ll have you know I work out a fair bit. Maybe it’s your big mouth that distracts me with all your smack talk.”

Noah snickers. “Oh yeah, that’s it.”

I lace my arm into his as we walk toward the end of the pier for one last look at the view. Even though I haven’t spent a lot of time around beaches having lived on the mainland for most of my childhood and young adult life, something about the view of an ocean always conjures comforting ideas into my head. It’s renewing my soul, my values, and standing here with Noah makes it all the more evident.

The past two weeks have been exactly what I needed. Charlie is right. Being surrounded by family and friends eliminates the loneliness which surrounds me in Manhattan. I’ve slowly found a piece of myself, learned not to take things so seriously, and somehow being with Noah restores my confidence.

I left New York City with uncertainty of who I was anymore, but I’ll be damned if I’ll return the same woman.

Noah places his hands on my shoulders, relaxing me with the grin spread wide across his face. It’s incredibly easy to see how women fall at his feet. The arrogant bastard is so damn good-looking. Yet deep inside, the comfort he gives me is more than I could’ve asked from someone who, to begin with, was supposed to be a hook-up.

“Why are you smiling like that?” I question, running my tongue along my teeth. “Do I have food stuck in my teeth? A bird shat on me? I knew those damn seagulls would get to me.”

He shakes his head, pursing his lips. “You’re going to be okay.”

“Huh?”

“You’re going to be okay,” he repeats, keeping his gaze fixated on me. “You’re going to go back, be the fierce boss you were born to be. And then, you’re going to be okay. You don’t need him, and you’ll be just fine.”

I stare into his eyes, searching for any sort of reasoning to his words. “How do you know?”

“Because I know.”

Noah inches closer. Leaning down, he places a kiss on my forehead, lingering while reality begins to sink in. A simple gesture, one filled with nothing but pure belief, gives me the confidence I need to realign my head and heart once again. There’s every reason why I should be okay and only one reason why I shouldn’t.

The good outweighs the bad.

Pulling away, my shoulders finally relax as a wave of calm steadies my anxious heart. With a weightless gaze, I reach up to graze my finger along his cheek in a friendly gesture.

“I better go. I’ll text you tomorrow to complain about my flight and remind me to ask you how exactly do you hook up with a stewardess.”

Noah dips his head, a smile creeping across before his eyes lift to meet mine once again. “A gentleman never tells.”

I touch his hand one more time before turning around to head back toward the car. He mentions he will Uber home, so I can return the rental to the airport first thing tomorrow morning.

As my steps away from him begin creating distance, he calls my name one more time. I turn around, and still, where he stands leaning with his back against the ocean, he folds his arms with his signature smirk.

“Don’t go falling in love on me. Remember the bro code? We don’t do love.”

I bow my head, unable to hide the smile gracing my face. “I’m kind of new to this bro code thing, but I promise not to fall head over heels for a guy.”

Noah shakes his head, letting out a laugh. “Bye, Kate… you crazy bird.”

“See,” I nod, grinning back. “You’re becoming a Brit already.”