He nods solemnly. “It’s got everything. Resilience. Groove. A betrayal arc. Love. And that beat drop? Come on. That’s how you know love’s real, when it survives betrayal and a key change.”
I’m laughing now, a real one, loud and sudden and unladylike. “You’re unbelievable.”
“But think about it,” he continues, totally straight-faced. “You get your heart broken. You go down. You get back up. And then boom—‘Return of the Mack.’ You’re back, baby. That’s romance. That’s life. That’s healing.”
I shake my head, still smiling. “You might be insane.”
He finally turns, his eyes darting over my face. “Maybe. But it makes you smile. So maybe I’m really winning?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not making it worse.”
His blue eyes reflect the faded sunlight. “You already made radish stars for America, Birdie. You’ve got nothing left to prove.”
And for once, I almost believe it. “So tell me about your heartbreaks? What inspired this ‘Return of the Mack’?”
Noah’s smile drops. “There weren’t a lot of notable heartbreaks. Just one. And the rest of the women I dated didn’t hold a candle to that heartbreak. I ended it before it even had a chance to begin.”
I cock my head to the side. “Only one heartbreak?”
He shrugs, eyes studying the sky, avoiding mine. “It’s true what they say, you never really get over your first love.”
______________
We walk slowly, like neither of us is in a hurry for the night to end. A soft breeze brushes past, lifting the edge of the foil over the container I’m balancing in both hands, half-eaten plate of nachos and all. Noah carries a plastic tub of what might have been someone’s attempt at chili, or possibly dessert. Hard to tell.
“Remind me again why you didn’t grab your own dish?”
“I’m telling you, Mildred stole my container. It was the bacon. I put too much bacon in it, and people do crazy things for bacon. She took my mac and cheese in the good container and left me with this. She and I will be having words later.”
Above us, the stars have come out in full force, scattered like glitter across navy velvet. Crickets sing from every bush and tree, not loudly, just constant. Like background music for a movie scene I didn’t realize I was walking through.
“I didn’t expect tonight to feel…” I trail off, trying to wrap words around the squirmy thing in my chest. “Good. But also weird. I’ve never had that much fun at a neighborhood block party before. Should I feel guilty about that?”
Noah glances over at me. “Do you think you should?”
I snort. “Maybe. But I don’t want to.”
“It’s okay to enjoy life again.”
I smile at the sidewalk. “Thank you. For tonight. Even if I did insult a neighborhood matriarch and question the emotional integrity of her Bundt cake.”
Noah slows his steps until we stop at the edge of my driveway. He shifts his container under one arm. “Anytime.”
A breeze kicks up again, carrying the scent of someone’s barbecue and the distant hum of laughter still drifting from a few houses down.
“You were perfect,” he adds, so casually that I almost miss it.
I turn toward him. “Don’t lie to me, Noah. I was a hot mess and probably committed the equivalent of social HOA arson.”
“Maybe. But like… the charming kind. The kind that warms up the whole place.”
My mouth opens, a retort halfway out of my lips, but I stop. He’s looking at me like he sees right through all the layers I usually keep zipped up tight. I’m not sure if it makes me want to run or stay still forever.
We reach the porch, and I fumble with the key before realizing it’s in the wrong pocket. Of course it is. Always so polished, Birdie. Except when you're not.
