Chapter Eighteen Parker
Chapter Eighteen
Parker
When Noel told me he was leaving early, I wasn’t as surprised as he probably expected me to be.
That day we ran into Figgins, I felt something brewing. I prepared myself for the possibility that Noel would leave before our six weeks were up, and I swore that no matter how soul-crushing it felt, I would put on a brave face and make the most of our days left together.
I think I’ve done a good job of keeping that promise.
We’ve spent the last several days wrapped in nothing but one another. It feels just like before, with us being so attached at the hip. Wherever he goes, I go, and vice versa. I even went to the gym with him yesterday, and I’ve lived here twenty years and never once stepped foot inside it until then. I learned I hated burpees but would suffer through a hundred if it meant one more minute with Noel.
“You’re walking like you fell down a flight of stairs.”
“That’s because I feel like I did.”
He laughs. “It was one day in the gym.”
“And for someone who never goes, it was rough.”
I shuffle through the aisles of Jill’s Bait & Tackle. We’re grabbing supplies for Tater Tot Tuesday. When I asked Noel if he was sure this was how he wanted to spend his last night here, he looked at me like I’d just asked him to fly to the moon.
“What’s on the list again?” I ask him.
“We don’t have a list, remember? You insisted you’d remember everything and then stole my pen while I was trying to make a list because I knew you were lying.”
“I would never do that.” I totally did do that. “Now, tell me what you forgot.”
“ You forgot jalapenos, Fritos, shredded cheese, onions, and sour cream.”
“See? We never needed a list.” I stick my tongue out at him.
He rolls his eyes. “Let’s just grab the supplies, smart-ass.”
We wander through the aisles, adding a six-pack of Watermelon Lime wine coolers and a bottle of wine to our basket before heading to the checkout.
Peggy is her usual not-so-chatty self, and we grab our bags and head out toward my mother’s house.
I limp up the sidewalk. We’re just a block from our destination, and then I can sit at the counter, make my Tater Tots, and get a break. I heft the grocery bag in my arms up higher.
Noel sighs. “Would you just let me hold that?”
“No. You’re already holding all the other groceries.”
“Yeah, and that’s the heaviest bag. Just give it to me.”
I cut him a glare, and he snaps his mouth shut. “Fine. Then struggle.”
“You’re so annoying,” I mutter to him as we turn into my mother’s driveway.
“That’s not what you were calling me this morning. I believe the words sex god were used once or twice.”
I roll my eyes. “You wish.”
Though, to be fair, that assessment wouldn’t be far off.
He just laughs, then helps me up the porch steps.
I whirl around to face him once we reach the door.
“Now, I’m going to open this door, and we are not going to discuss our sex life. At all. Understood?”
He nods, barely holding in a grin. “Understood.”
“Good.”
I push open the door, not bothering to knock.
“Mom!” I call out, taking off my shoes. “We’re here!”
“And we are definitely not talking about our sex life, so don’t even ask!” Noel yells.
“Noel!” I hiss, glaring at him, and I hear my mother laugh.
“Good to know,” she hollers back. “We’re in the kitchen!”
This time, I’m not surprised by the use of we . Clifford’s been joining us for Tater Tot Tuesdays since he and my mother went public.
At first, I wasn’t sure how I felt about my mother dating. Not because I didn’t believe she shouldn’t, but because she never had before. But she and Clifford are perfect together. They complement each other so well that I’ve often wondered why they didn’t get together much earlier.
We make our way back to them, and I’m unsurprised to find her at the stove, stirring away.
“Chili is just about ready,” she says over her shoulder.
“Perfect, because I’m starving,” I tell her, setting the bag of groceries on the counter and practically falling onto a stool. My shoulders sink in relief. “Oh, gosh. That feels good.”
Mom lifts her brows. “I’d ask what’s wrong, but I’m a little scared, given Noel’s announcement about what topics are and aren’t up for discussion tonight.”
I throw the man in question another glare, and he laughs it off.
“I took her to the gym yesterday,” Noel explains.
“We have a gym?” Mom asks.
“See?” I say to Noel. “I told you I’d never heard of it before.”
“How ...” He shakes his head, stopping himself from asking a silly question. “Never mind. I forgot who I was talking to. Yes, we have a gym. It’s behind Jill’s.”
“Shut up.” Mom looks at her boyfriend. “Did you know this, Cliff?”
He nods. “I knew.”
“Wow. And to think you know a place.” Mom goes back to stirring the chili, muttering about what other secrets this town could be hiding.
Noel begins pulling the supplies we brought from the grocery bags and setting them on the counter. “Is there anything I can do to help?” he asks my mother.
She smiles over at him. “Just sit your butt next to Parker. It’s your last night here. You’re not helping me cook.”
“I tried to offer too,” Clifford says, “and it’s not my last night here. Why can’t I help?”
“Because, love, you eat baked beans for dinner at least four nights a week. You’re hopeless in the kitchen.”
He shrugs. “She’s got me there.”
Noel settles on the stool next to me, his leg pressing against mine like it’s where it belongs.
I’m going to miss this. These little moments. The small ways he finds to touch me. Or having him here for Tater Tot Tuesday. The familiar scent of his cologne. Just him .
I’ve always felt content in life. I have a house I love, a cat who is a monster but I still adore, a mother who is one of my best friends, and a business that is doing well.
Then Noel came back and showed me that while things were good, they could be great.
And I want great. I want him back in my life. I want everything I didn’t know I was missing.
But I’m not going to get it. He leaves in less than ten hours, and I have no idea when he’s coming back.
Mom announces the chili is done, and we get to work making our pans of tots. Noel and I split one, topping ours with fresh jalapenos, shredded cheese, and bacon bits before sliding it into the oven.
“Noel, Cliff, why don’t you two head outside and start the fire?” my mother suggests. “Parker and I can bring these out when they’re done.”
The guys take off outside, and the second the door snaps shut behind them, my mother turns to me.
“How are you holding up?” she asks, leaning her elbows against the counter, her stare boring into me like she’s looking into my soul.
“I’m okay.”
She gives me that look only a mother can give. The one that says, Come on, it’s me.
I sigh. “Really, Mom. I’m okay.” She doesn’t look like she believes me, and so I force a smile. “I swear.”
But even I can hear the shake in my voice.
“Have you talked about what this means for you two?”
“No.”
“Why not? Don’t you want to be with him? You’ve loved him since you were a kid.”
Of course I want to be with Noel. More than anything. But it’s not that simple.
How could we even make this work? Would Noel live here? Would I live in LA? Would I have to give up my business with Axel? And what about all the chaos that comes with being a star? Would I even want to deal with that? Could I?
I don’t know.
“What’s the point? We both want different things. Noel wants to live in LA, and I want to stay here. Nothing’s changed over the last ten years.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
But it is true. He still wants a life I’m not sure I want to live. Or even could live. It’s the same thing he wanted when he was eighteen and the same way I felt when I was eighteen.
We might be older, but we’re at the same spot we were when he was leaving last time.
“Can we talk about something else?” I ask.
She opens her mouth like she wants to argue but thinks better of it, instead nodding.
“Okay,” she says.
Relief floods me. Thank gosh, she’s dropping it.
“But can I just say one more thing?”
I groan. “Like you weren’t going to anyway.”
“For what it’s worth,” she continues like I never spoke, “Noel is worth the work. I think this thing you two have is worth it too. Seeing you this last month with him here ...” She shakes her head with a soft smile. “I haven’t seen you like that in a long, long time. You’re happy with him. He makes you happy. He always has, even when he’s annoying you. That kind of love ... It doesn’t come around often, trust me. So whatever is holding you back, I’m here to tell you that you’re strong enough to work through it. Especially if it means having a shot at the kind of love you and Noel have.”
She pushes off the counter, then moves to the oven and pulls it open.
“Grab some plates, will you?” she asks like she didn’t just drop that bomb on me.
Noel does make me happy. He always has. Some of the best memories of my life include him, and I don’t think that’s a coincidence. I know it’s because of him and the impact he’s always had on me. From the day I met him, something about him drew me in. I don’t know if it was his smile or how he complimented my backpack or what, but I liked him instantly. He made me feel welcome. He made me feel safe. He made me feel loved .
Twenty years later, he still makes me feel all those things.
I push from the stool and do as she asks. We plate our dinners and then take them outside, where Noel and Clifford have a fire roaring.
We make light conversation as we eat our dinner, and I participate, but my mind is halfway on the ticking clock hanging over our heads.
And when Noel pushes up from his chair, I know it’s time.
“Astrid,” he says, crossing the lawn to my mother as she rises to meet him. He wraps her into his arms, hugging her tightly, and I love how they cling to one another. They’ve always had a bond, and I’m forever grateful for the way my mother took him in as her own over the years.
I turn away from them, giving them a moment alone.
I jump when a hand lands on the small of my back.
“Sorry,” Noel says. “You ready?”
I give him a small smile. “I’m ready.”
I hug my mother goodbye and promise to check in with her tomorrow, then I wave to Clifford before Noel navigates us back through the house and out the front door.
We’re quiet as we hit Borgen Avenue. It takes me a minute to realize we’re not headed toward my house, but I know instantly where Noel is leading us without him saying a word.
Five minutes later, we walk down the lane to the Noel Carter Theater, then push inside.
We sidestep the mess Axel and his crew have made, careful not to touch anything, then make our way to the stage.
Noel helps me up, and we walk to center stage, sitting at the ledge and letting our feet dangle over.
It takes me back ten years to the last time he was leaving and we did this exact thing.
“So,” Noel says.
“So,” I echo.
We laugh, and the tension is broken.
“I still can’t believe you’re renovating this theater.”
“Me neither,” I say, looking around the empty room. “It’s going to look so different when you see it next.”
His feet stop midswing, and I realize what I’ve just said.
“You are, right? Coming back, I mean.”
“I am,” he says quietly.
“When?”
He considers the question for a moment. “I don’t know. I know we haven’t really talked about it, and that’s my fault. I didn’t want to fill you with empty promises, so that’s all I have for now. I don’t know when I’m coming back, but I know I am . I wish I had a better answer, but I don’t.”
I wish he had a better answer too.
I wish I had a better answer for the situation we’re in. But I don’t. We’re stuck until one of us decides to budge.
We sit on the stage for another half hour, then finally make our way back to my house. The walk that usually takes five minutes takes us twenty, both of us trying to stretch this out as much as possible.
I don’t bother asking Noel if he wants to come inside. He walks in behind me like we do this every night.
We go straight to my bedroom.
There are no words exchanged. We know exactly what’s happening here.
This is it. This is our goodbye.
Noel steps up to me, takes me in his arms, and kisses me like he never has before—like he never will again.
He pulls my shirt over my head, then undoes my bra with deft fingers before unsnapping my jeans. I shimmy them down my legs, kicking them aside.
Noel steps back, drinking me in with hungry eyes.
“You’re perfect,” he says. “So fucking perfect.”
Then he’s kissing me again, and we fall onto the bed. He crawls on top of me, fitting himself between my legs, then tugs his shirt over his head, tossing it aside before his lips are back on mine.
I unbutton his jeans, pushing them down as far as possible, and then he finishes the job. I sigh in relief when his naked body presses against mine.
He keeps kissing me as he slides inside me with a gentleness we’ve thrown right out the window the last few days. He thrusts into me slowly and softly, our lips never once breaking apart.
My orgasm barrels through me, and Noel’s follows soon after.
When he’s finished, he rolls off me, tucking me into his side.
I fall asleep, and when I wake up, Noel is dressing near the foot of the bed.
Moonlight streaks into the room, and I use it to memorize every inch of him, from his raven hair to the scruff lining his jaw to his strong shoulders and corded arms. Every part of him I can see, I commit to memory ... just in case.
When he goes to turn my way, I slam my eyes closed, not wanting to see him go.
Noel tiptoes back to the bed and then kisses my head.
“Goodbye, Peter,” he whispers.
Goodbye, Noel. I love you.
But I don’t say that. I don’t say anything. I lie there, pretending to sleep.
Pretending like my heart isn’t breaking in two.
It’s not until I hear the front door click shut that I finally let the tears fall.