CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

AMBER

It was good seeing Blake and Rob again, and it was nice meeting Ryder.

“This is a big ask,” Noah says to the three of them before exiting the hospital. “But would you mind letting me borrow the car and finding another way home? Amber and I want to be alone. Have some more talking to do.”

Turns out, Noah told the driver of the car that brought us here that he wouldn’t be needed any longer. That’s a head-scratcher.

“Of course,” Ryder says. “Not a problem. I can have a car here for us in fifteen minutes.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Noah and I get into the limo. “Nice car,” I say and slide to the middle.

“It is,” Noah replies, leans in, and kisses me. A long, deep kiss that I’ve missed so much.

“You happy about the baby?” I ask.

“Are you kidding? I’m thrilled.”

“What about Farrah? When she finds out we’re back together and I’m pregnant, she’s going to flip.”

“I have somebody taking care of it.”

My pulse races. “You’re not going to have her killed, are you?”

Noah stiffens and raises a lone brow. “Have you been watching gangster movies?

“No, but I’ve seen enough to understand what somebody’s taking care of it means.”

“Not this time, I’m afraid,” he says. “Nobody’s getting snuffed out. I have a lawyer friend who’s an expert in dealing with people like Farrah. She’ll either take down everything she’s posted and issue an apology, or life will become extremely difficult for her and her family. I hope it doesn’t come to that because her parents aren’t bad people. Her mother and mine are close.”

I’m torn either way. Part of me would like to see Farrah brought to her knees, yet the other part wants to offer forgiveness. Tough choice.

“You’ll never know how grateful I am that you came looking for me,” I tell him.

“I am, too.” He kisses me again. “You ready to come back to New York?”

“Yes, I am.”

He tells the driver we’re going to my house and gives him directions. When we arrive, he says, “You go on in. I have a few calls to make, and I’ll be there.”

I wonder what’s up.

He must understand the hesitation. “I need to have my brothers get my things and contact the pilot. Then I want to talk to Ryder and thank him for everything he’s done.”

That’s an answer I can live with. “Okay,” I say and get out. Walk to the door and go inside. Mom and Dad are in the kitchen eating a sandwich. A good-looking sandwich, too, I might add. Am I ever hungry!

“Where have you been?” Mom asks.

Since Noah will be in any second, I jump right to it and give her the abbreviated version of what’s happening.

“He’s here?” Mom asks.

“Out front. He should be coming inside any second.”

My parents are up and out of their chairs in no time and heading for the front door.

“Mom. Dad.”

They don’t slow down. I pick up Mom’s sandwich, take a bite, and follow. They reach the door the same time as Noah.

“Well,” Dad says in a deeper than normal tone and steps in front of my mother. He didn’t seem mad a moment ago. Maybe it’s been building. This man did knock up his daughter, after all.

“Now, dear.” Mom squeezes his elbow. “Let’s not.”

“I’d like to know who he thinks he is?”

“Charles,” Mom scolds. “That’s enough.” She smiles at Noah and pushes Dad aside. “Won’t you please come in?”

Noah walks in, and I hook him by the elbow.

“Shall we go to the living room?” Mom asks.

“Do we have time?” I ask Noah.

“Time?” Mom repeats.

“I’m going back to New York with Noah.”

“Today? Now?”

“We have time,” Noah says.

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

Noah and I sit on the couch, and Mom and Dad sit in their chairs. It doesn’t take Noah fifteen minutes to have my parents eating out of his hand. Another twenty minutes after that, he receives a call. “Would you excuse me? I have to take this. My brother.”

“Of course,” Dad answers.

Noah gets up and walks a few feet away.

“I like him,” Mom whispers.

“I do, too,” Dad agrees.

“Thought you might once you got to know him.”

Noah comes back. The phone call was brief. “I hate to be rude, but the plane’s ready. Shall we get your things?”

“Why don’t you help her, dear,” Dad says. “I’ll keep Noah busy.”

I give Noah the there’s-nothing-I-can-do shrug.

He answers my dad, “I’d like that.”

“Good. Let’s sit back down, then.”

I touch Noah’s hand and leave him there.

“So,” I hear Dad say and stall when Mom and I reach the stairs.

“Don’t worry about it, dear,” Mom says. “He seems more than capable of handling your father.”

“You think?”

“Don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go, then.”

We ascend the stairs and enter my room. I’m quick to grab my suitcases and even quicker to shove things in.

Can’t believe how understanding my parents are, but then again, money has a way of talking, and Noah’s a loud talker.

“That’s it.” I slap the suitcases closed. I’m only bringing the minimum.

“You sure?” Mom double-checks.

“Yes, Mom.”

She hugs me. “Your father and I will come visit.”

“That would be nice.” I grab my bags.

Mom gently slaps my hand. “No! Let me.”

“I can do it, Mom.”

“I said I’ve got it.” She grabs the handles, lifts the bags, and heads for the door. “Coming?”

“Right behind you.”

Mom calls Dad before we reach the bottom of the stairs, and he’s Johnny-on-the-spot. She holds the bags out to him, and he takes them.

“Let me.” Noah forcibly intervenes.

Dad raises his bushy eyebrows, looks at Mom, and smiles.

From there, we head to the car.

Dad whistles. “That yours?”

“No, sir. My cousin’s.”

“Wow.”

The chauffeur sees us coming, pops the trunk, and races to Noah. “Let me get those for you, sir.”

“Thank you.”

Noah opens the back door while the driver sets the bags in and closes the trunk.

Dad peeks in the car and whistles again. “This is something.”

“You ever been in one?” Noah asks.

“Haven’t had the pleasure.”

“Want a quick ride?”

“Don’t we need to go?” I ask.

“Just around the block.”

Dad’s already in the back seat, holding his hand out to Mom. “Come on, dear.”

“You sure?” Mom asks Noah.

“Yes.”

She gets in.

I kiss Noah on the cheek. “Thank you for this.”

“My pleasure.” He helps me in, and we drive.

Dad talks the whole time we’re in the car: Oh, these seats. I could sleep in here. Are they heated? What is that? A refrigerator? Is that a minibar? How many stations that TV get?

Noah remains polite and answers all his questions. Dad has a great time.

The car pulls back in front of my parents’ house and stops. The driver gets out, and Mom begins to cry. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you, too, Mom.”

Me, Mom, and Dad hug and kiss while the driver stands on the walk holding the door open.

“Guess we better let you go,” Dad says.

“You better,” I answer.

“Any time you want to visit, let me know,” Noah says. “I’ll send the plane, and maybe Ryder will let us borrow the car to take you to the airport.”

“You think?” Dad says.

“I know,” Noah answers.

Dad beams. “That would be great.”

“Bye, Dad.” I push his shoulder.

“Bye, dear,” he answers and kisses my cheek.

He slides out of the back seat while Mom and I kiss one last time, and then she follows him.

We wave, and the driver closes the door and scurries around the front and gets in. Looks at Noah in the rearview.

“Airport,” Noah says.

“Yes, sir.” He starts the car, puts it in gear, and we’re off.

“Your parents are nice.”

“Yeah, they are.” I snuggle next to him. “Thanks for everything. Dad’s probably already on the phone calling everyone he knows, telling them about the car.”

“Glad he had fun.”

I rest my head against his shoulder and take his hand, stroke the back of it. “Thanks for coming for me.”

He kisses the top of my head. “I’ll always come for you. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

* * *

The driver pulls into the hangar, and we get out.

Blake, Rob, and Ryder are standing at the bottom of the airstairs. “About time,” Blake says.

“Yeah, well,” Noah replies and leaves it at that.

The driver pulls my bags out of the trunk and brings them over to us. Rob takes them from him and marches up the stairs. “We better be going.”

“All right,” Noah replies.

Blake says to Ryder, “You sure you don’t want to come along?”

“Vegas? No, I better not.”

Noah cringes when he says it.

“Oh, shit,” Ryder responds. “Fucked up, didn’t I?”

I tilt my head at Noah. “What’s he talking about?”

“I want to take you to Las Vegas and get married in one of those little chapels.”

“Now?”

“I can’t wait any longer. I love you too much.”

This is a lot to take in. And it seems so fast. What about my parents? My siblings?

“What do you think?” Noah asks. “Come on. If you want to have a big ceremony sometime down the road, that’s fine. People are doing it all the time. I can’t wait any longer for you to be my wife. Please say yes. You’ll do it.”

I smile. I’m done thinking. “I’ll do it.”

“All right.”

We kiss, say goodbye to Ryder, and board the plane.

Twenty minutes later, we’re in the air.

Vegas, baby.