He raises an eyebrow. “Some people might object to it.”
Noah is a color-inside-the-lines person. A rule stickler. Hell, he’s a rule setter. He had me tickled curious. Now I’m hooked. “Then I’m your girl.”
“You should wait until you know what it is,” he says as the song ends and morphs into another.
“I trust you,” I answer.Besides, how bad can it be?
We change dance partners and before long, all the girls are dancing together around Kiara. Then the parents’ generation joins us, I dance with Uncle Bill, Mom dances with Ms. Angela, then Ms. Angela switches us so Mom and Uncle Bill are dancing together.
Finally a circle forms, someone inevitably spins a beer bottle, and we end up in a showdown ofHow low can you go. Lane wins, closely followed by Cassandra.
Sweaty and out of breath, I step out of the tent to cool down, my still-bare feet digging in the dewy grass as I walk down toward the river. Once at the shore, I raise my eyes to the starry sky and take a deep breath.Best day of the year so far.
A faint jingle has me turn my head. Noah is stepping out of the tent, nursing a bourbon. Against the brightness of the party behind him, I can’t tell where he’s looking, or if he even sees me.
“Willow?” he calls out.
Damn it—the sound of my name in his mouth… I shake my head, chuckling at my silly self.Let it go, Willow. Jesus.
“Over here!” When I’ve established he’s heard and seen me and is coming down in order to, in all likelihood, tell me about this project of his, I turn around and sit on a bench to admire the river at my feet, gilded as it flows under the fairy-light covered bridge to my left, then on my right turning to a silver shimmer reflecting the moon.
Because frankly, I don’t need to feast on Noah’s rolled-up sleeves, his dangling bow tie, the messiness of his hair. Besides, I’ve decided it does nothing to me anymore.
Nothing.
“Hey,” he says softly.
“Hey,” I answer, not turning around.
“Brought you these,” he says, standing in front of me, my shoes dangling off his fingers.
I can’t help but giggle. “Careful, Prince Charming, they might actually fit.”
He tilts his head. “Funny. Well, anyway,” he starts, placing the shoes carefully at my feet, “about what I said earlier.”
“Yeah?”
He takes a long draw on his drink, finishing his glass, and exhales loudly. “We should get married.”
The desperation on his face cracks me up. I laugh out loud and look to the river. “I don’t need to do anything like that. Just because all our friends are getting married doesn’t mean we need to feel peer pressure. They’re all happy now, but give ’em two, three years, and watch them all bitch about married life and sleepless nights as they ‘start a family,’” I say, making air quotes.
“But you orchestrated Colton and Kiara’s relationship.” He sounds puzzled, maybe even a bit upset.
I sigh. He’s right. “Look, except for our friends’ rare cases, I don’t believe in marriage. But I take back what I said. They’re all great together, and they’ll be happy until their tits and balls get in the way of their walking. But it doesn’t mean you or Ihaveto get married. There’s nothing wrong with being single. And I’mnevergetting married.”
He chuckles bitterly, and I wonder if he’s heartbroken over his ex-fiancée.
“Wait. D’you need relationship advice?” That has to be it. He saw the magic I made happen with Kiara and Colton. He just mentioned it. “Who is it?” I sit taller, feeling a lot better about myself now. Since I’m O.V.E.R. Noah, I have no problem helping him out. There’s something about feeling of value to others that just fuels me. My sight is adjusted to the night now, and I can clearly make out the crease between his eyebrows.
He takes the glass again, drinks what has to be melted ice cubes, then says, “I’m talking about getting married to each other.”
“Sorry what?” I must have heard wrong.
He sighs. “I’ll make it worth your while,” he says, his gaze fleeting to the spot under my arm where the price tag digs into my flesh.
My brain freezes for a moment, then bile rises in my throat. He wants topay metomarry him? “This is the twenty-first century. Things aren’t done that way anymore.” I want to add something biting, something that would betray how insulted I feel, but instead I ask, “Why would you even want to do that?”
He takes his glasses off, rubbing his eyes, but stays silent.
