My fingers move before I can drop my phone.
He liked talking to you too. Thanks for being kind to him.Send.
I barely set the phone down before it lights up again.
Can I see you tonight?
My heart stutters.Boy, he doesn’t mess around.I look at the clock. It’s late. Too late to tell Noah I’m running an errand.
It’s kind of late. I don’t want to have to explain to Noah why I’m leaving the house after I already took all my makeup off. I never do that. He’ll worry.
I set the phone down again and waltz into the kitchen, busying myself with wiping my counter. One thing about Bill entering my life, my counters have never been cleaner. I’ve wiped them all down again and am working on the front of the fridge when Noah’s phone pings. He retrieves it from his pocket and says, “Hey, Mom, I’m heading to JD’s for wings with the guys from the team.”
I blink. “Wait, what? I fed you two meals at the diner. How are you even hungry?”
“I've been training.” He moves toward the front door, slips on his shoes and jacket, but pauses to look back at me. “Besides, wings are just a snack. Nobody can get full on wings.”
“Okay, try not to be out too late. You know I can’t sleep well until I know you are home, and I have to be at the diner at five again.”
“Sure thing. I’ll be back by midnight. I have practice tomorrow too.” He strides forward while typing on his phone and closing the door behind him.
Without pause, my eyes cut to my phone.
I pick it up and do something I would never have thought I’d ever do.
Me: Actually, Noah just left with friends. What do you want to do?
He answers in seconds.
Bill: How about wings at JD’s? It’s bucket night.
I shake my head, smiling despite myself.
Me: I like wings, but not JD’s. That’s where Noah’s going. Actually, anywhere public might be a risk.
Bill: Okay. Not JD’s or anyplace public. I could pick them up, and we can eat them at my place.
My stomach flips. I stare at the message as my breath catches. I’m not going to his place! Is he insane?
Me: That’s way too private. I’m not ready for that.
His reply is quick:
Bill: Okay. Not my place. Somewhere public but not public, and private but not private. I have an idea, but it’s a surprise. Meet me at the diner.
My thumb hovers. My heart races. Every part of me is screaming at me for doing this. Well, every part except my heart. Before I talk myself out of it, I manage a simple:
Me: Give me twenty minutes.
eighteen
Bill
Flurries swirl through the night air, dotting the windshield with winter sparkles. I leave the engine running, lean back in the driver’s seat, and watch the dark windows of the diner.
Ruth pulls up next to me and gets out of her car, pulling her pink coat tighter around herself, while her usual knit hat is tugged low over her ears. She sprints forward with her head down like she’s trying to avoid winter.
The tops of her high cheekbones turn a little redder with each second they fight against the wind. I step out of the car, hustle around to her side, and open the door for her.
