Noah smirked. “That’s not because I’m famous,” he said, amused. “That’s because they’re wondering what you’re doing out with a known troublemaker.”
AJ smiled because he was probably right, and he smiled back. Her heart rate climbed.
Should she mentionSNL?
The way he was looking at her now, so unguarded—AJ wanted to deserve that again. She cleared her throat. “Do you remember that time we watched ‘Fire & Water’ at the store?”
It was the night they’d talked about their dads. Noah wasn’t smiling now.
AJ reached for the mauve napkin ring that had come with his flatware. “I-I think you were right. We do say the worst things to the people we care about,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
“Age.” Noah’s expression was unreadable. “I am too. For what I said. And…for not writing you back. I wanted to. I-I had your note open for like a week. But in the end, it just…seemed like it would complicate things.”
“Yeah, no, that makes sense,” said AJ quickly. She let her eyes drift from his napkin ring to her engagement ring. “And hey, it all worked out, right? In the end.”
Noah let out a breath. “Right,” he said matter-of-factly. “So, when’s the wedding?”
AJ dropped the paper band. “Next year sometime. We don’t have a date yet.”
“You and Brian, I assume?”
AJ nodded. Noah’s long fingers picked up a fry and swirled the ketchup around his plate.
“Is he working this weekend or…”
“He’s at his parents’,” said AJ. “He’s had to be here way too much the past few months.”
She wanted to ask if Allison Seabring wasworking this weekend,but the impulse faded as Noah began to inscribe her name in the ketchup, hooking the J under the A, just as he’d done insideLaughter & Death.A bandage covered his knuckles that AJ hadn’t noticed before. He dropped the fry when he saw her looking.
“I was really sorry to hear about Pat,” he said, tucking his hand under the counter.
AJ looked up at his handsome profile. This was his serious side; his mouth sloped down slightly on the left, making his face appear longer from this angle. “Thanks. Yeah, it’s brutal.”
“It’s devastating,” said Noah, turning toward her. “Does he have kids?”
AJ told him about Patrick’s family, about the emotional strain on Elle and on their parents; Noah’s head inclined in absorption, his eyes bright. As he listened, AJ felt an old certainty lap her anxiety: that nothing she could tell him would be wrong or unwelcome.
More than that—she felt warmth. It was crude, and it was simple, but it was coming from him, and it told her that some form of their bond had survived.
“Time has lost all meaning,” she was saying. “It feels like this happened three days ago, but when I look up it’s already April. The weeks just keep stacking up.”
Noah nodded slowly. “And so do the bills, right?”
A sickening hotness swept over AJ. She hadn’t been consciously thinking about the conversation she had overheard that morning, but she’d inadvertently led them to it. Now it all came flooding back—the number, the panic, the sinking stone of an unsolvable problem.
“We’ve got it covered,” she mumbled.
“I’m sure you do,” said Noah. Something in his tone immediately got under her skin.
“We do,” she said.
“I know,” said Noah. “And if for whatever reason you end up needing help—”
“We don’t need help,” said AJ, heat rising to her face. “I have a plan.”
“Oh yeah?” said Noah, eyes glinting.
It was as if Noah questioning her produced the answer, as if a lifetime of jumping into scenes with him had conditioned her brain to expand at his suggestion. AJ met his eyes with resolve as her next step illuminated with stark clarity.
