Chapter Eight Parker
Chapter Eight
Parker
There aren’t many people I don’t like. I believe everyone deserves a chance, maybe even more than one in some cases.
But if I were forced to make a list of people I’m not so fond of, Leonard Figgins would top that list.
Who does he think he is? I don’t remember him ever being so pushy. So cruel. He’s asked questions about the theater project before, and sure, he’s grilled me on it, but never to that degree.
Okay, so some of his questions were valid, and I totally understood them, but I have a plan. I’ve been saving up for this for years. Every penny I haven’t spent on the absolute necessities has gone to this project, which isn’t an insignificant amount. The business with Axel does quite well, and it’s not that expensive to care for just me. I’ve built a nice savings. It’s not enough to cover the costs the donation won’t, but it’s still enough to keep it going.
I’m prepared for this. I’m ready for this. And I won’t have someone like Leonard try to knock me down before I’ve even started. I understand he was just doing his job and reporting on the happenings around town, but it still felt like an attack. I really shouldn’t be surprised, given his dislike of me for being friends with Noel, who he always thought stole the spotlight from him.
After Figgins’s heated questioning, no one else wanted to step up and grill me on the renovation, so the crowd dispersed quite quickly.
Now it’s just me, Noel, and a few stragglers hanging behind, including Axel.
“I ever mention how much I hate that twerp?” He glares after Leonard, who is hurrying away, likely because he knows he’s stirred up a storm.
“Me too,” Noel agrees.
“Wow. Look at that. You two agree on something.”
They exchange a quick look—one that I know holds much more meaning than I can decipher—and then look away just as fast.
I tip my head at Axel in a silent question, but he shakes his head.
“I’d better get going,” he says instead. “Mary took the kids to the park, so I’m sure she could use my help.”
“Oh.” I frown. “I thought we were going to Rossi’s afterward to celebrate.”
“Rain check?”
I nod. “Yeah. Rain check.”
Axel wraps me in his arms, hugging me tightly. “Proud of you,” he whispers so nobody else can hear. “Knew you could do it.”
“Thank you, but the hard work hasn’t even started yet,” I say as we pull apart.
“You kidding? That was the hard work. The rest of this? It’s easy. We do it every day.”
He’s right. We do. The rest of this renovation? Easy peasy.
“See you in a bit.”
He completely ignores Noel, who is still lingering, then takes off toward the park in the town center.
That leaves me and Noel.
“Where’s Gran?” I ask him.
“She’s walking back with friends. She was getting tired and insisted I stay out so she could nap in peace. Guess she’s flashing back to our teen years when we’d play video games entirely too loudly and annoy her to no end.”
“ You were the loud one.”
“Yeah, because you always cheated.”
“Did not,” I insist.
“Did too. Why else did I always call you Cheater Peter?”
I glare at him, but he smirks.
Silence settles between us, and it’s awkward, something that’s never happened with us before. I hate it.
“So ...,” I say because I don’t know what else to say.
“Yes, Peter?” His smirk is still in place.
I blow out a breath. “You didn’t have to do that, you know? Step in and help. And you really didn’t have to say you’d stay and help. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of ... well, whatever you do back in LA. Movies and stuff.”
He shrugs like it’s no big deal when we both know it is. “I know. I wanted to.”
“You wanted to raffle yourself off for a date night?”
“Well, no. That was your doing, remember?”
I wring my hands together and grimace. “I’m sorry. I sort of panicked.”
“No shit.” He laughs. “I guess I kind of deserved it after what I said.”
I stiffen at the mention of the words he uttered to me before I took the microphone.
Unlike some people, I keep my promises.
In all fairness, he was right. I didn’t keep my promise, and I’ve had to live with the repercussions for the last decade.
“I’m sorry. It was uncalled for.”
“It’s okay,” I tell him.
“It’s not. We said we were going to put all that behind us, and I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“No, maybe not, but it was still true.” I clear my throat. “Anyway, you don’t have to do the auction. We’ll figure something else out.”
He shoves his hands into his pockets. “I’ll do it.”
“You will?”
“Yeah. I mean, I’m going to complain about it, but I’ll do it.”
I smile. He has that effect on me. One minute, I’m upset with him for calling me out, and the next, I’m smiling and laughing at his jokes. It’s always been that way with us.
“I expect nothing less.”
He turns his eyes up at the sun, squinting. “So, what now?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what are you doing the rest of the day? I thought we might want to get together to come up with some other fundraising ideas.”
He wants to get together with me .
It’s a ridiculous suggestion. Completely absurd. Totally and utterly ludicrous.
And yet, I still find myself saying, “Sure. Let’s go check out the new Rossi Café.”
He folds at the waist, holding his hand out dramatically. “After you, my lady.”
I roll my eyes, charging by him, leading us to the sidewalk. I don’t take us to Borgen Avenue. I’m not sure I’m ready to stroll with Noel through the middle of town. Instead, I stick to the outer road, taking us the long way to the café.
We walk side by side, our arms brushing together every few steps. It’s the same thing we’ve done so many times before, but it feels different now. Every step feels loaded, and every brush feels like it means something.
I wish we could turn back time and go back to when it was simple. I miss simple.
Suddenly, Noel pulls to a stop, and I instantly realize my mistake in taking us this way.
He steps up to the cemetery gate, the one I’ve been coming to every month for the last ten years, and stares longingly at the headstones.
We stand like that for several moments before he finally looks at me.
“You mind?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Not one bit.”
He pushes the gate open, and we make our way down the small dirt path toward the back. It’s the path I’ve walked so many times, so I stop when he passes by the turn he should be making.
He notices, turning back to me.
“Shit. It is that way, isn’t it?” His shoulders fall forward in disappointment as he returns to my side. “Can’t believe I forgot.”
“Well, it has been a while.”
He swallows hard, putting his head down, and we keep trudging along.
Halfway down, we take another turn, then walk past five plots before I stop. I let him go ahead, knowing he’ll need this moment to himself.
Noel sucks in a deep breath, then turns to the old graves.
“Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad.” He smiles softly. “Been a minute, huh?”
He crouches down, reaching forward to run his fingers over each letter in their names. I know because I’ve seen him do it so many times in our youth.
“Sorry I don’t have any flowers. But I guess that’s okay because it looks like someone already took care of that for me, didn’t they?”
He glances over at me with suspicion.
I shrug in response, but he knows I kept up the tradition while he was gone.
At first, I did it because he asked me to. But after we stopped talking, I kept coming here. Maybe because it was a way to stay connected to Noel, or maybe because even though I never met his parents, they still felt like such important pieces of my life. Either way, I’ve kept it up for ten years and don’t plan to stop anytime soon.
He offers a smile before turning back to his parents. I move away to give them privacy. Whatever he’s saying, that’s for them, not me.
Since it happened before I moved here, sometimes I forget that Noel lost his parents just like I lost my dad. Sure, his parents were taken from him instead of choosing to leave, but we were both left behind one way or another.
It’s part of what helped us bond in the way we did all those years ago. I just never expected it to be the same reason we fell apart.
I busy myself with reading the other headstones in the cemetery, though I’ve done it a hundred times before, and wait patiently while Noel has his moment.
I’m unsure how much time passes before he finally joins me, his pinkie brushing against mine.
“Hey,” he says quietly.
“Hey,” I respond like a dolt. I move my hand away as subtly as possible, not because I don’t want to touch Noel, but because I want to touch him far too much.
If he cares or notices, he doesn’t mention it.
“Thank you, Peter. For taking care of them, I mean. That means ...” He looks out over the top of my head, his eyes, which are rimmed red with unshed tears, narrowing for a moment before he peers back down at me. “It means a lot. I know those aren’t fancy words, but they’re all I have. So yeah, thank you.”
He’s right. They aren’t fancy words, but they’re exactly what I need to hear.
“Anytime.”
He nods, then clears his throat. “So, lunch?”
I smile. “Lunch sounds good.”
“Holy macaroni and cheese. I didn’t expect this place to be this packed,” I say as we squeeze—and I really do mean squeeze because this place is standing room only—through the front door of Rossi Café. “I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this.”
“You kidding me? The second I saw that wall, I knew this place was going to be fucking buzzing.”
“That wall was your idea.”
“Well, I guess I’m just that good.”
I smack his stomach, and I really, really shouldn’t have.
It’s hard and bumpy, and my gosh , how many abs does he have under there? Sure, I’ve seen him shirtless in his movies—it’s practically a requirement for every film of his—but I didn’t think they’d be this nice in real life.
“Peter?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you feeling me up right now?”
I jerk my hand away, realizing that, yes, I was feeling him up.
Heat steals up my cheeks, and I duck my head in mortification.
He laughs, and I want to smack him once more, but I’m too afraid I’ll accidentally start groping him again.
“Parker!”
Oh, thank heavens.
“Gianna!” I call out to the woman waving at me from behind the counter. “Come on,” I tell Noel as I start toward her.
We make our way to the side of the front counter, and Gianna bounces over, her smile worth a million bucks. She shoves through the door we’ve built into the side and throws her arms around my neck.
“This is incredible, Parker!” She squeezes me tightly. “I cannot believe it. Everyone is gushing and cannot stop talking about the waterfall on the accent wall. And the wall color? Ugh. The sage is so perfect!”
“I’m so glad you like it, but, Gianna?”
“Yes?”
“I can’t breathe.”
“Oh!” She releases me with a laugh, and I suck in a breath of much-needed air. “Sorry. I just got so excited.”
“It’s okay. I’m really so happy you like it.”
“I do. So much. Even more so today, now that there are customers here. Oh, and— Greta! Greta!”
Gianna waves her wife over to us, and Greta passes their employees to join us.
“Parker.” Greta’s smile rivals Gianna’s as she wraps her arms around her wife’s waist and tugs her close. “This is incredible. We love it. Thank you. Truly.”
I wave off her words of praise. “It’s nothing, really.”
“Nothing? Are you kidding me? This is life changing. You’ve turned this dusty old café into something people will flock to see. It’s ...” She shakes her head. “I don’t have the words for what you do for this community, always fixing up the businesses and now the theater too. It’s ...” She sighs. “It’s truly awe inspiring.”
My face begins to heat for the second time since I’ve walked in here. Thankfully, it’s for something much less embarrassing this time.
“The waterfall was Noel’s idea,” I say, hoping to draw their attention to him.
It works, Gianna’s eyes lighting up like she’s just realized he’s here.
“Holy shit!” She smacks her hand over her mouth. “I mean, shit. No. Fuck. No. Crap! Holy crap! The Noel Carter is in my restaurant.”
He chuckles. “I’ve known you since we were babies, Gi.”
“Yeah, but that was different. You were the dorky theater kid then. Now you’re ... well, you’re Noel Carter .”
Greta rolls her eyes. “You’ll have to excuse my wife. She’s a fan.” She sticks her hand out to Noel. “We haven’t officially met yet, but I’m Greta. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Nice to meet you,” Noel says, shaking her hand. “Anybody willing to shack up with Gianna and handle her awful singing voice is good in my book.”
“Hey!” Gianna complains. “I wasn’t that bad.”
“Babe, I love you, but you can’t sing to save your life.” Greta presses a kiss to Gianna’s head. “Anyway, it was great to meet you, Noel, but I’d better get back to the front counter. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re a bit swamped.”
“Of course. No problem.” I wave her away.
“Can I get you guys anything? Our treat, of course,” Gianna offers.
“Yeah, we’d love to treat you to lunch. Both of you,” her wife agrees.
“I mean, I wouldn’t say no to a sub.”
“Yeah, of course. Anything special on it?”
“Double—”
“Everything and extra EVOO,” Gianna and I finish for Noel.
He laughs. “Yeah, that.”
He’s a creature of habit. I’ve heard him order the same thing his entire youth, and Gianna’s helped make the sandwich nearly just as long.
“One double meat, double cheese, extra EVOO Rossi Italian coming up,” Greta says. She looks at me. “Your usual?”
“Please.”
“You got it.”
She hurries away, and Gianna turns to us.
“I’d better go help,” she says. “Find a seat. We’ll bring everything out once it’s ready.”
She gives me another hug before breezing back behind the counter. Noel and I shuffle through the packed shop toward the back. I don’t miss how many people have their phones out and pointed our way. It’s so strange. Is this what Noel deals with all the time? People watching his every move like this? I couldn’t imagine how hard that would be to deal with.
“People are taking photos,” I murmur to him as we approach a table tucked as far away from the prying eyes as we can be without sitting outside.
“Yeah, they do that. Just ignore them. I’ll have my agent take care of it if they cause too much of a stir.”
He pulls my chair out for me, and it reminds me of all the times he’s done it before. He’s always been a gentleman like that. I’m glad to see that hasn’t changed.
“Thank you,” I mutter as he takes the spot opposite me.
And that’s the way we sit for several minutes—just there.
We don’t talk. We just sit.
It’s strange. We’ve been in this café together so many times before, but it’s different now, and not just because of the new paint on the walls and the new layout. Everything with Noel feels like that now—the same yet different. I’m not sure how I feel about any of it yet, just like I’m not sure how I feel about him staying.
I haven’t allowed myself to think about it much because what’s the point? He’s leaving again in six weeks. He’s here to help raise funds, and that’s it. That’s all it means.
“Man, I didn’t even think about it, but do you know how many Rossi breakfast sandwiches and subs I’m going to get now that I’m staying in town? Think it would be worth it just for that.”
“Does Gran know this? That the only reason you’re sticking around is for sandwiches? Not spending time with her?”
His eyes widen. “No, no. That’s not what I meant. I—I—I—” he sputters, and I laugh at his attempt to fix his mistake.
I know he’s not just staying for sandwiches. Or at least, I hope that’s the case.
He sighs, giving up with a grunt. “There are other reasons too.”
“Like my mother’s coffee?”
“For starters.” He grins, resting his arms on the small gray table we’re sitting at. “So, tell me more about this theater. I suppose since I’m sticking around and helping raise funds for it, I should hear some of your ideas.”
“Oh.”
I don’t know why his interest surprises me. Maybe because I thought he would use his name for clout and not do any of the hard work or care about what’s happening. Why should he? He’s taking off again at the end of his stay, never to think about this place again, I’m sure.
“Well,” I start. “It’s going to be a dual theater.”
“People are going to be dueling?” He sits forward. “Are we talking about jousting or swords? Oooh. Or are you going with the Western theme—a good old-fashioned shoot-out? I’m partial to the swords. There’s real art behind master swordsmanship.”
I glower at him from across the table. “ Dual. D-U-A-L.”
“Oh.” He settles back in his chair. “Less exciting—but continue.”
“Anyway ...,” I say pointedly. “We’ll have two sections: one for plays and one for actual movies. We’ll have to soundproof the heck out of it, and we’ll only be able to show one movie at a time, but it’s far better than the alternative, which right now means a three-hour round trip to see a movie.”
Noel nods a few times. “I like it. It sounds doable and makes the space more functional than what Ms. Goodman used it for.”
“Man, I miss that crabby woman,” I say about our old theater director.
Part of the reason it took so many years to get the renovation underway was because of her unwillingness to part with the building. Even though it was sitting empty after the tree fell through it, she still didn’t want to let it go. So it remained untouched until last year when she passed away and the property reverted to the town in her will. It then took another six months to convince the town council it should be used for a new theater. Of course, that led to me having to assure the others on the restoration committee it was a worthwhile project and that they should hire Cooke & Pruitt Renovations to head the project.
If it weren’t for my anonymous donor and Axel and me working so hard to prove ourselves capable of handling such a project by renovating rental properties and businesses around town, I’m not sure I would have gotten the green light to get the project off the ground.
I only hope the rest of the town has as much belief as my donor and turns out for the raffle next weekend so I can prove Leonard and all the other cynics wrong once and for all.
“She hated me.”
I gasp. “She did not! She loved you! She hated me .”
“Then why do you miss her?”
I shrug. “Nostalgia.”
Noel laughs. “I get what you mean. There’s been a lot of that for me lately.”
We both know what he’s referring to—him being back. Us.
But we don’t address it.
Instead, I tell him about my other plans—the concession stands, something Ms. Goodman was always against, how the movie club that meets in the park is already on board to rent the theater out monthly, and even my ideas for plays.
“You’ve spoken to the school board? Are they okay doing productions there, even if it means providing a chaperone? I know we always struggled with getting someone in there.”
“Are you kidding me? Of course they are. Did you know their theater department hasn’t been able to put on a real play in five years ? They’ve just been sitting around on stools reading lines in the middle of the gym after basketball games. I already have three teachers signed up to volunteer. Besides, I think nobody wanted to do it before because of Ms. Goodman. She was so ...”
“Mean?” he says with a laugh.
“ So mean. Gosh, remember that time she threw the script at you? Like, straight up chucked it right at your head, then made you pick it up and give it back to her?”
“I can’t believe she got away with it.” Noel shakes his head. “Nowadays, there’s no way that would fly.”
“And with good reason. Our parents should have never allowed us back after that.”
“Please. As if they could keep us away. We practically lived at that theater.”
I smile. We did practically live there. In fact, one time, we even stayed the night there. Not on purpose—we totally fell asleep in the dressing room on a pile of clothes after a late-night painting session and got grounded for it—but still. It really was like our second home, even if it meant putting up with Ms. Goodman.
“I’m glad you’re bringing it back,” Noel says quietly, his attention on the tabletop. “I’m not sure I’ve told you that yet, but it’s true. Those words you spoke during the ceremony ... I feel them too.” He lifts his eyes to me, and I don’t think I’ll ever get over how clear yet so stormy they are. “I know ...” He exhales slowly. “I know I haven’t been around, but no matter where I’ve been, I’ve always had a piece of that place with me.”
My throat tightens with emotions I wasn’t expecting, especially not sitting in the middle of the café.
It doesn’t feel like he’s just talking about the theater. It feels like he’s talking about me.
Luckily, I don’t have to respond, because Gianna chooses this moment to bring our food out to us.
“Okay,” she says cheerily. “We have one Rossi sub, double meat, double cheese, and extra EVOO with a side of Rossi chips that I know you’ll love.” She sets the overcrowded plate in front of Noel. “And one meatball sub, extra provolone with two pickles on the side for you.” She settles my plate in front of me. My sandwich looks wimpy compared to Noel’s, thanks to all the extras he had added on there. “And finally, I brought your lavender lemonade, Parker.” She turns to Noel. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I grabbed you a water, but if you want something else, just let me know and I can grab it.”
“Water is fine. Thank you.”
“Of course. If you two need anything else, flag me down.”
“Thanks, Gi. This looks incredible. You really didn’t have to—”
She waves off my praise. “Please. This is nothing. Now eat. Enjoy.”
She tosses a wink, then hurries back to the front counter, which is still at least ten people deep. It’s amazing to watch people leave, just for someone else to waltz in and fill their spot seconds later. I’m thrilled people love the makeover. Hopefully, it means continued good business for many years to come.
My lavender lemonade is swiped from the table the moment we’re alone again.
“Hey! That’s mine!”
I reach for it, but it’s pointless. Noel’s arms are too long, holding it perfectly out of reach.
“Sorry. Taxes.”
I swear the world slows down as he closes his mouth around the straw, just like I swear I see his tongue poke out.
Don’t react. Don’t react. Do not react, Parker!
He takes a healthy sip, then lets out a loud and exaggerated “ Ahhh. ” He licks at his lips. “Refreshing.”
He sets my drink back down, and I glare.
“I hate taxes,” I mutter, scooting the lemonade closer to me so he can’t steal it again.
“Don’t we all.” He picks up his sandwich and takes a bite. “Holy fuck.” He moans, his eyes rolling back into his head. “This is fantastic,” he says around a mouthful of food.
It has no business being so hot, especially not when he has olive oil running down his chin, but it is. It so is.
I reach for my drink, praying he’s too preoccupied with the sandwich to notice the shake of my hands, and gulp down half the cup in one go.
“So Greta said businesses, as in plural. This isn’t the first place you’ve fixed up, is it?” he asks after his second bite. I haven’t even picked up my sandwich. I can’t. I’m too busy watching him.
“No. I redid the bookstore, Fran’s, the frozen yogurt shop, and now this. It’s not much, but it’s helping them keep up with the latest trends.”
“And those rental properties, too, right?”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
I fidget in my chair, not liking where this questioning is going. Who’d have thought I’d be grilled so much today? “Some other projects here and there. Nothing ... big.”
“Hmm.” He picks up his napkin, wiping at his mouth. “Anyone I know?”
I sigh. “Just ask, Noel.”
“Fine.” He sets his napkin aside and sits back in his chair. “Did you redo my grandmother’s kitchen?”
I knew this question would come eventually. I’m not surprised Gran didn’t mention the renovation to him. I visit her at least once a week, and we have a very firm No Noel policy. We don’t talk about him at all—not a peep. We keep it strictly about us and the bond we’ve formed over the years. Sure, that bond exists because of Noel, but when we’re baking in her kitchen together, we pretend he never lived there at all.
“I did.”
“How much?”
I jerk my head back. “What?”
“How much did she spend on it?” he asks, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I want you to refund her.”
There is no way he just said what I think he did. “Excuse me?” I ask.
“She doesn’t need to spend her money on things like that. So, how much was it? I want to pay for it. I can transfer it now if you know your info, or write you a check this afternoon, whichever you prefer.”
“You think ...” I inhale sharply, trying to calm myself. I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation right now. “You think I’d charge your grandmother for a remodel? I practically grew up in that kitchen. She’s the sole reason I even know how to make scrambled eggs. I didn’t charge Gran a dime for that.”
“Fine. Then what did you spend on it? I’ll pay you back.”
“I don’t want your money, Noel.”
I don’t even bother trying to hide the venom in my words. How dare he think he can come in here and throw his money at me.
He tosses his phone to the table with a heavy sigh. “Then what do you want, Parker? Huh? You keep going around, doing all these great things, like resurrecting the theater, taking care of Gran’s house, and putting fresh flowers on my parents’ graves. What is it you want?”
“You! I want you!”
I freeze, almost like I’ve been hit by some fancy, techy, time-freezing ray gun straight out of Spider-Man or something.
Apparently Noel’s been hit with it, too, because he sits unmoving. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at me with wide eyes.
I hold my breath. Maybe if I’m not breathing, he’ll forget I’m here, and maybe if he forgets I’m here, he can forget I just said that.
Maybe I can forget I just said that.
Ugh, why did I say that? What the heck was I thinking? What the heck is he thinking?
Then slowly, he blinks, and I suck in a desperate breath.
“Parker, I—”
“I have to go,” I announce, shoving out of my chair. It’s loud and undoubtedly draws attention, but I don’t dare look back to find out. Or stick around, for that matter.
I push through the crowd and bolt out the front door, leaving behind my untouched lunch and Noel calling after me.
But I have to. I can’t face him, not after what I just said.
And not after meaning it so much.