Noah’s petting slows, and he turns me around to look him in the eye.
“Good!” he smiles. “Because I want to throw you the best party you have ever had.”
“That might be kind of tough. My dad bought me a pony when I was six!” I tease.
Noah’s mouth falls open. Dumbfounded, he stares at me. I start laughing. “Kidding,” I say.
“Phew, you had me scared there. Ponies are pretty hard to beat,” he leaves my side, and grabs an envelope in the kitchen. Offering it over, I’m a little reluctant to take it, not knowing what it is.
“Open it,” Noah insists.
I turn it around a few times in my hands. There is something inside, although I have no clue what it could be.
Slowly, I open the envelope and turn it upside down in my palm, trying to extract whatever object is hidden. A shiny gold key falls into my hand. Startled, I look up at Noah.
“Just in case you ever need to use it, I wanted to make sure you had one,” he says. I look up at Noah and then back down at the key.
“I don’t know what to say,” I finally tell him.
“Don’t say anything.” He kisses the top of my head and heads back to his unpacking.
He doesn’t even think twice about giving me little gestures like this, and somehow the thought never crosses my mind to do the same in return. Standing in Noah’s new apartment, I wonder why that is as the burn inside starts to resurface.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Eva
My party rapidly approaches and time flies by faster than I had anticipated. Noah has been busy the last two weeks, hard at work figuring out all the specifics that Michael and Rex want to add onto their club. He spends his days working, measuring and drawing up plans, making whatever progress he can while the two co-owners fight endlessly over what they actually need versus what they thought they wanted.
I fill my time working as well. I even pick up two new freelance positions in Orange County. I haven’t told Noah exactly where the new magazines are located yet. Normally, the magazines might have hired someone else, but when I had a video conference with the editors, elaborating on how much I know the town, how often I still visit, and how much family I still have living in the area, they agreed to take a chance on me. Even though things are going great between me and Noah, I still secretly think of that job at the L.A. Times. I’ve even followed up and stayed in contact with a few people in the office, knowing that persistence usually always pays off.
The night before my big birthday celebration, I agree to meet Gwen for drinks after work. Noah happily pushed the idea, since he’s still swamped with work trying to figure out how to cut unnecessary costs for Rex and Michael’s addition. Excited and ready for some fun you can only have with your best friend, Gwen and I decide to hit some local pubs downtown and walk home if need be.
Our first stop is a small bar on Main Street, which is probably only about five hundred square feet. The place makes up for the lack of room inside with a small patio out back, though. White string lights line the fences, and space heaters stand in the walkways as we make our way towards the patio and Gwen complains over my choice of seating.
“Really,” Gwen says as we reach a table by a fireplace and set down our purses. “This isn’t Orange County. Hell, I wouldn’t sit outside in SoCal this time of year.”
It’s fifty-eight degrees outside and it’s supposed to get much colder before the night is over. The good thing about being acclimated to both Northern and Southern California is that you can take almost any temperature the climate throws at you.
“Where is your sense of adventure,” I challenge. “A few stiff drinks and you’ll forget all about the cold.”
Gwen can’t argue with that. It’s basic knowledge. When a waitress arrives, we place our drink orders and wait in silence. Our relationship is never at a loss for words for long, though the absence between the two of us the last few weeks makes it hard to figure out what to say next.
“Are you excited about your party,” Gwen asks abruptly.
“I guess so. If I can handle two nights of back-to-back drinking, that is,” I say. Hangovers were one thing in my early twenties, although now nearing my thirties, they leave me hating life for several days after.
“You’re just not seasoned anymore. A night like tonight is exactly what you need to get you back in the saddle again.”
The waitress returns and sets our drinks on the table. She tells us to yell if we need anything else, or better yet, go inside for refills. Acknowledging the fact that we are the only ones crazy enough to sit on the patio, we nod and wait for the waitress to leave before continuing our conversation. Gwen glances at her phone briefly, and I do the same, pretending to have some important information to look at when in actuality I’m just buying time.
Why is this awkward?
“So,” Gwen sighs.
“So,” I repeat.
Gwen takes a long drink of beer and looks off into the distance. I have never seen her like this before. This woman normally doesn’t care what she says or how she says it.
