“And how am I supposed to pilot it and where am I supposed to land it?”
He waves a hand. “I can get you a pilot. The Malibu place doesn’t have a helipad, but I can put one in, no problem. And the building your bakery is in has a big enough roof—enough to support a small helipad.”
“Floyd—my landlord—is a dickhead.”
“I’ll make it worth his while.”
I suddenly realize Noah is totally serious, even though I was half-teasing when he got too extravagant for my middle-class mindset. He’s thought a lot of this through, put a lot of effort into visualizing what he’d like us to have together.
“But really, that’s just details,” he says. “What’s important is that you and I will be together. That’s why we’re in the center, holding hands.”
“With four kids…?” I glance at the strollers around the couple in the picture.
“Well, I thought you’d want more than one.”
“But four?” I ask, surprised he painted the ideal number of children I had in mind.
“Thought it’d be a good upper limit, although we can have more if you want. I’m flexible.”
The way he says “I’m flexible” makes me want to double-check. He shouldn’t think only about what I want, not if he hopes to build a future together. It should be whatwewant. “Don’t you have an idea of how manyyou’d like?”
“Nope. I’m not the one carrying them for nine months. I have more than enough money to support them financially, and it’s about you being happy with the family we end up creating.”
“What about your happiness?”
“Making you happy makes me happy.” He tucks a wayward tendril behind my ear, his fingertips brushing my sensitive skin and sending warm shivers down my back.
“What if you do something that makes me unhappy?”
“I’ll kick my own ass.” The response is prompt and serious.
“I don’t think you’re that flexible.”
“I’ll work on it. Or you can ask Griffin. One of my brothers, who does kickboxing. His kicks hurt like hell. I’ll be limping for days.”
I snort, then laugh at his exaggerated expression of pain. “Did you guys fight a lot?” I ask, curious about his childhood. I realize that we’ve never really talked about our families. I wasn’t in the mood to talk about mine since it hasn’t been that long since Dad died, and I didn’t want to dampen the mood, especially when I wasn’t even that close to him. And since I wasn’t going to talk about my family, I didn’t feel comfortable probing about Noah’s. I didn’t even realize his father was Ted Lasker until Noah crashed that godawful “date” with Joey.
“Nah. I mean, we argue and give each other shit as much as any siblings. But we’ve been always tight since it’s just us against the world.” A fond smile crosses his face, then he must see something in my expression because he adds, “Our parents just aren’t always around. And it turned out better that they mostly stayed out of our lives. We’re happier on our own.”
I nod. “I’m glad you have your brothers.” I wonder if I would’ve been less distraught over the loss of my mother and father if I’d had siblings. Although I’m close to TJ and Josie, I felt so bereft when my parents died overseas.
Okay, time to reset my mood.Don’t want to dwell on the past right now. I gesture at the final section of the canvas. “AndThe Last Supper?”
“The Last Supper?” Noah chortles, then tilts his head. “I guess it bears a passing resemblance… Does this mean my painting’s almost as good as a da Vinci?”
“Well… If you cut this section out from the rest of the canvas…”
“Can’t do that. It’s part of the whole manifestation.”
“With flying cupcakes and croissants. And a ring.”
“Yes. But you’ll notice there are no crème de la hairballs. Anyway, it’s the brothers and the wives getting together,” he explains.
“Do they have a lot of dogs?”
“Dogs?”
I point at the animals around their feet.
