We’re just two people in a crowd of thousands, I remind myself. Two anonymous fish in an enormous sea. Noelle’s no more a target than anyone else.
That doesn’t make me feel overly assured, either.
“Are you okay?” Noelle asks once we hit the sidewalk again. “Do you have a headache?”
“What?” I look at her in confusion. “Why would you think I have a headache?”
“Because your forehead is all pinched up. And you keep gritting your jaw. So it’s either a headache or—” She gives me ayou’re bustedlook. “You’re thinking about how many people are in the city and trying to assess how much danger I’m in.”
“I’m not,” I reply quickly. “In fact, this is one of the safest parts of the city. So there’s nothing to worry about.”
“So you didn’t scare the crap out of that guy back at the intersection? The one wearing the green coat?”
“I didn’t scare the crap out of him. Trust me. If I’d wanted to do that—” I stop myself. Maybe it’s not the best time to talk about all the ways I could intimidate someone I feel is a threat to Noelle. “Anyway. He was being rude, staring like that. I just gave him a little warning is all.”
Noelle leans her head on my shoulder. Her hair tickles my chin. Despite the late hour, it still smells faintly of honey and vanilla, a scent I’ll forever associate with her. “My fierce protector,” she says, affection softening her tone.
“Yes,” I agree. I kiss her head before adding, “And to answer your earlier question, I really did enjoy the performance. I’ll admit, I was hesitant going into it, but once the story actually started…”
“It’s such a great story, isn’t it?” Noelle tilts her head to smile up at me. “I sawWickedin Seattle maybe ten years ago, but there’s just nothing like seeing it on Broadway.”
“Do you want to see about tickets to another show?” I ask. “I know tomorrow night is Jaz’s play, but we could probably fit in a matinee or something the night before we leave.”
“Maybe.” Noelle glances at a restaurant as we pass by. “Or we could go out for a nice dinner on Tuesday night. I’m sure Jaz has some recommendations.”
“Whatever you want to do is fine with me.” I kiss the top of her head again. “This is your trip, gorgeous. You want to seeanother Broadway show, we’ll do it. Want to go to a fancy dinner, tell me where and I’ll make it happen.”
Her lips curve into a teasing smile. “What if I want to go to one of those super-exclusive restaurants? One that has a six-month waitlist for reservations?”
“Then I’ll call Tyler and ask him to help. You know he can get us to the top of the list, no matter where it is.”
“True. But I don’t want a super fancy dinner. Just someplace where we can get a table with lots of privacy, plenty of candlelight, delicious food…”
“Done. We’ll ask Jaz when we see her tomorrow. Then you just tell me which place to make reservations for.”
Noelle looks up at me again. Emotion works in her eyes.“Webb.”
“What?” Worry surges. “Is that not okay?”
“It’s more than okay,” she replies. “I was just thinking… you talk about how you don’t know how to be romantic. But you do. You’re amazing at it.”
“Am I?” I mentally tick through the things I’ve done for Noelle that I’d consider romantic lately. There were the flowers I bought last Friday, just because. There was the new stuffed animal to add to her collection, a crested newt named Rufus. And then there were the champagne and strawberries I requested for the first night in our hotel room, a recommendation from Bea before we left.
“Yes, you are,” Noelle replies. “And it’s not just the gifts, though I love them. It’s all the things you do. It’s how you always get my coffee ready in the morning. It’s the towel warmer you installed in the bathroom so I’d have toasty warm towels when I get out of the shower. It’s seeing these musicals with me, even though I know they’re not your favorite.”
“I like them,” I add. “Just maybe not that one in the woods. They kept singing the same thing over and over. It got kind of redundant.”
She laughs. “Fair enough. That one’s not my favorite, either.”
Our hotel comes up on the right, the entrance all sleek marble and gleaming brass with the logo illuminated in light on the sidewalk in front of it. Two doormen stand on either side, dressed all in black. As Noelle and I near them, one of the doormen rushes to open the glass door for us, smiling brightly as he says, “Good evening, Mr. Anders. Ms. Snow. Enjoying your evening, I hope?”
Noelle beams at him. “Absolutely. We just sawWicked. It was wonderful.”
The doorman, whose name is Reginald, according to his nametag, nods in approval. “Oh,Wickedis fantastic. It’s my daughter’s favorite, actually. I took her for her tenth birthday last month.”
Noelle’s hand slips into mine. She hesitates before replying, “I remember going to the theater with my dad. That’s what made me fall in love with theater. Something about it… it’s different from a movie. With a play or a musical, you’re right there. Seeing the actors in person. The props. It just feels… magical.”
He looks at her for a long moment. Then he nods. “Yes. It is.”
