Chapter Thirteen Noel
Chapter Thirteen
Noel
As I suspected, Gran had already turned in for the night when I got home from the Falls, and she was already off in town this morning, which I know thanks to the note she left attached to the fridge informing me she “needed a break from all the cooking” and to “fend for yourself.”
I smiled, wrote back a quick note asking if she wouldn’t be making any more banana bread, just to tease her, and then left for Rossi’s Café with one thing in mind—Parker.
Yesterday was not what I expected, yet everything I wanted wrapped into one.
I want more of it. Not just the sex either. I want more of Parker. I want to laugh with her again. Play with her again. Have fun again.
As much as I enjoy my life in LA, it’s never felt like home to me, not in the way Parker does.
I’ve missed that feeling far more than I realized.
I head down Harris Street, noting that almost all the anti-theater signs are now gone. Could it be the naysayers are finally getting on board?
I turn onto Borgen Avenue to find that the town is already buzzing with people, and to my surprise, they wave instead of putting their heads down or turning their noses up at me like they did when I first arrived.
It feels ... good. Better than I expected it would. I knew there was a chance people would be angry with me for leaving, but I never thought my neighbors I’ve known my whole life would ignore me. Now, though, they’re warming back up to me, and it reminds me of how I used to feel walking down these streets—safe.
“Noel!” Fran calls as I walk by the pie shop. “You hungry?”
I pat my stomach, already walking through the front door because the delicious smell wafting to the sidewalk is too irresistible. “Always. What do you have on the menu?”
She waves me over to the front counter, pointing at the display cases that show off the perfectly round pies she likely baked fresh this morning. From the smell of it, she’s still using her mother’s famous cherry pie recipe, which calls for just a bit of bourbon and only the best Rainier cherries.
“We have our staples: apple, cherry, and, of course, marionberry, which we all know is a Pacific Northwest classic. Then we have our specials: peach cobbler, blueberry cobbler, coconut, and white chocolate with graham cracker crust. And finally, our mixes: blue raspberry, white chocolate coconut, and apple coconut, which I know sounds a bit wild, but it’s so delicious.”
I stare down at the many options, unsure of which one to get because they all sound so damn good, and my stomach is already growling. I didn’t eat dinner last night, and after yesterday’s workout at the Falls, I need sustenance soon.
I look up at Fran. “Do you happen to know which one is Parker’s favorite?”
Her eyes widen for a moment before a grin breaks across her lips. “I sure do. It’s—”
“Apple coconut,” a voice booms from behind me.
I turn, tipping my head back to look at the giant. “Axel. Nice to see you.”
He grunts. “Hmm.” He shoves by me and points right at the apple-coconut pie. “Get that one. It was her creation.”
“Parker came up with it?”
He nods. “She and Fran here were tipsy on whiskey sours down at Bigfoot’s and were talking pies. They got hungry, snuck off to the kitchen here, and created this monstrosity.”
“Hey! I’ll have you know it’s our second-best seller so far this summer.” Fran pushes her chest out, her nose tipping up in the air. “Everyone but you loves it.”
“ Everyone is wrong. Coconut is the devil’s dandruff.”
“Actually, I believe that’s cocaine,” I interject.
He sneers at me. “You’d know, wouldn’t you, Hollywood?”
I draw in a deep breath, trying to keep my cool for Parker’s sake. I know she loves Axel, but man, do I want to punch him right now. And why wouldn’t I want to? He keeps taking shots at me. It’s only fair I fight back, isn’t it?
“I’m getting real—”
“There you are!” Parker comes blazing in through the door. “I’ve been looking all over for you, Axel. I— Oh. Noel.”
Gone is the contempt I feel for Axel. It’s swiftly replaced by elation.
Parker’s here.
Her eyes dart between Axel and me, and she carefully steps up beside me and places a calming hand on my arm, as if she can feel the tension radiating off me. “I didn’t realize you’d both be here. Is everything okay?”
“Fine,” I answer before Axel can. “I was just grabbing us some pie.”
“For breakfast?”
“Yep.”
“I knew I liked you.” She pushes to her tiptoes and presses a kiss to my cheek.
She does it so effortlessly that I don’t think she realizes it’s happened until Fran lets out a little squeak.
The baker smacks her hand over her mouth, eyes wide. “Sorry,” she says behind her hand.
Parker shrugs, either pretending not to be affected by Fran’s reaction or honestly not caring.
That would make one of us.
I care, and Axel cares too—if his flared nostrils are any indication.
“So what are you getting me? Because I hope it’s—”
“Apple coconut?”
“Yes! How’d you know it was my favorite?”
“Axel.”
She launches herself at the giant, hugging an arm that’s nearly as big as a toddler. “Oh, Axel. You really do love me, don’t you, best friend?”
He shakes her off, his lips turned down into his bushy red beard. “Stop it. It’s too early for this.”
“You’re going to admit it one day.” She grins up at him while he continues to frown. It’s his eyes that give him away, though. He adores her. It’s clear for anyone to see.
While I might never understand their friendship, especially given their history, I can see that it’s as genuine as it comes and that Axel truly cares for and wants the best for Parker.
I guess that makes him okay in my book.
“So, a slice of apple coconut and what else, Noel?” Fran asks from behind the counter.
“Cherry. It’s been far too long since I’ve had it.” I toss my thumb toward Axel. “And whatever the big guy wants. I’m buying.”
“A whole white chocolate and peach cobbler, then a slice of marionberry, please, Fran,” he requests with a smirk in my direction. “That’s okay, right?”
Dick.
I give him a tight smile. “Yep. Perfectly fine. Anything for my good friend Axel here,” I say, laying the sarcasm on thick. We’re far from being friends, and Parker is the only reason I’m letting him get away with this. I turn back to Fran. “Ring me up.”
“You got it,” she says, jovially punching the buttons on the screen with a bit of hum.
I’m sure she’s feeling extra cheery right now, what with selling this much pie before 9:00 a.m.
Fran gives me my total, and I hand over my black card, then turn to Parker. “What are your plans for today?”
“I’m heading to the theater. Want to join?”
Axel stares daggers at me over the top of her head, but it doesn’t stop me from telling her, “Of course. Can’t think of a better way to spend my day. Except for maybe at the Falls.”
Parker blushes, no doubt remembering yesterday, while Axel says, “Then take a hike.”
I ignore him, collect my slices from Fran, and then follow the duo out the door.
I wasn’t sure what I wanted out of the day, but now I can’t imagine spending it any other way—seeing Parker and annoying the hell out of Axel.
It’s the perfect combination.
“Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me the next fundraiser is a drinking competition?”
“I guess if you really, really want to break it down to basics, then yes. But it’s more about the bowling than anything else.”
“How so?”
Parker swings her legs back and forth as she shovels another bite of pie into her mouth. We’re sitting on the stage, enjoying our breakfast and coffee we grabbed from Rossi Café while Axel bosses around a crew as they work on replacing the walls.
Looking out at the now-empty theater ... Well, fuck. It’s got me feeling all sentimental. The last time I was inside was the night before I left, and I was too wrapped up in Parker to really appreciate it. Seeing it like this now takes me back to all the hours I spent on this stage and how much this place contributed to the person I am today. It’s strange seeing it so bare, but I know Parker is going to build it back up to something even better than before.
“I don’t know,” she says. “It just is.”
“But you want people to buy the beer, right? Because the proceeds from every purchase go to the theater fund.”
“Well, yes, but—”
“So it’s a drinking competition.”
“No!” She huffs, then laughs. “Yeah, fine. I guess it is a little bit. But we’re still hosting trivia, bowling, and having fun, so that’s something, right? Plus, it’s not just the proceeds from beer sales. It’s the food too. I still can’t believe Garth is doing all that.”
I snort. “I can. That guy has had a crush on you since sixth grade.”
“He has not!” she argues, but there’s no real indignation behind her words. She knows I’m right. “He’s just nice to everyone . Plus, he was a theater kid too. He’s sympathetic to the cause, that’s all.”
I roll my eyes, sipping my coffee, which is almost as good as Astrid’s. “Whatever you say, Peter.” I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “Can’t believe they let him keep that slogan. I saw it the other day, and my jaw about hit the ground.”
She tips her head to the side. “What? Not a fan of ‘Bigfoot’s Hideaway: Come See His Balls’?”
“Oh, I love it. It’s hilarious. I just can’t believe Leonard Figgins Senior let it get pushed through.”
“I think he was absent when we took that vote. It’s why it’s important to go to every town meeting. You never know what’s going to be on the ballot.”
“Clearly.”
She scrapes the last piece of pie off her plate and pops it into her mouth with a noise that shouldn’t be legal to make in public. It’s borderline pornographic, and I should know—it’s the same little noise she was making yesterday when she came on my face.
She drags her tongue across each prong of her fork, making sure to get every bit, and I watch her, barely holding back a groan ... and a boner.
I clear my throat, shifting my attention to anywhere else.
Axel’s crew is working fast, and I feel bad just sitting here with Parker while they do all the heavy lifting, but then she belches, and I know I’m right where I’m supposed to be.
“My goodness. Excuse me. I don’t know where that came from.” She pats her lips with her napkin. “Guess that pie was just that good.”
She’s always been like this with me—comfortable enough to be herself. I can’t count the dates I’ve been on over the years where it’s obvious the woman I’m out with is pretending to be someone she’s not. I don’t want that. I want real.
I want Parker.
“So does that mean you’re coming to the event?”
“I said I’m here to help fundraise, and I meant it.”
“I know, but . . .”
“But?” I ask, bumping my shoulder against hers. “What’s on your mind?”
“Well, you’re leaving.” She shrugs, looking down at where her legs are bouncing off the stage. “I know you’re only here for six weeks, and I don’t want to monopolize your time.”
She can’t be serious.
“Hey,” I say softly, reaching over and tipping her chin up toward me so she’s forced to look into my eyes. “I’m here for you, Parker. You know that, right? I’m staying for you.”
“I thought you were staying for the theater. Because you believe in it.”
“I believe in you .”
Her eyes widen, and I feel her swallow sharply. “Oh.”
“Is that really such a surprise?” I ask, dragging my thumb across her soft bottom lip, unable to stop myself from touching her.
“Well, no. I mean, maybe. You’ve always believed in me. I just ...” She shrugs again. “I don’t know. It just feels different now.”
“Because of yesterday?” She nods. “I don’t know about you, Parker, but yesterday didn’t change anything for me. Not when it comes to you. I still have all the same feelings about you I’ve always had. What we did ... It didn’t change any of that. Wait. No. That’s not true.”
Her brows crush together. “It’s not?”
“No. It made me want you more. And I already really, really wanted you,” I say, leaning in closer and pressing my lips to her cheek.
Her breath hitches, and I grin against her, kissing her again, all the way to her ear so only she can hear what I’m about to say next.
“You have no idea how badly I want to fuck you on this stage, Parker,” I whisper. “I wanted to do it ten years ago, and I want it even more badly now that I know what you taste like.”
She lets out a small gasp.
“If we were alone right now, I’d do just that. I’d roll you over and slide between your legs. I’d eat your pussy until you begged me to let you come, then I’d fuck you until my name echoed around these walls. Then I’d do it all over again just because I could.”
She gulps, and the sound is so audible that a few crew members look over to see what’s happening.
Parker waves at them, and I laugh, then pull away. Her chest is heaving, her pupils are dilated, and a tiny bead of sweat sits just at her hairline.
“Something wrong, Peter?” I ask her innocently.
She squeezes her eyes shut, shaking her head. “I hate you.”
I laugh. “You do not.”
“I don’t. I really don’t. Though sometimes, I think it would make things easier.”
I’m not sure what that means, but I don’t want to get into it now—not with Axel barreling into the room.
He stops just a few feet from the stage, his eyes locked only on Parker, pretending I’m not even here.
“We’ve got a problem,” he tells her.
Gone is the playfulness. Parker’s hackles are now raised. “What’s wrong?”
“Come look.”
Then Axel turns on his heel—still not sparing me a glance—and marches back out of the room.
Parker hops off the stage, and I scramble after her and Axel.
We skid to a stop when we find him standing in the middle of the entryway, his head tilted toward the ceiling.
“See that?” He points to the hole ripped through the ceiling. Fluffs of pink insulation that look like they’ve been covered in dirt hang out. “That’s—”
“Asbestos.” Parker groans, her hands going to her hips. “Crap. Crap, crap, crap.”
“How bad is it?” I ask, not entirely following along. I know how to use a hammer just enough to get me in trouble, but beyond that, I’m out of my element, and I have no idea what any of this means other than there’s a hole that shouldn’t be there.
“See those nasty gray and brown spots up there? Where it’s not all bright pink? It means we’re going to have to pause and get a team in here and make sure there isn’t more anywhere else,” Axel explains. “Will probably set us back a few days.”
“And cost us several grand.” She sighs, and I want to step up and comfort her, but I know she doesn’t need my rescuing right now. Or my distractions.
“Hey,” I say, tugging on her elbow.
She turns to me, her eyes full of worry, and I hate it so damn much. I wish she’d just let me help. Let me give her the money to finish this place exactly how she wants with no sacrifices, but I can’t do that either.
“I’m going to head out. Let you and your business partner get this settled, okay?”
She smiles softly. “Okay. I’m sorry. It’s just ...” She waves her hand toward the mess she’s just discovered.
“See you tonight?” I ask, and she nods. I move to press a kiss to her forehead, but when I catch Axel watching us from the corner of my eye, I change my mind.
Instead, I step back and give her an awkward wave, then head back to the theater to grab our trash.
I’m just about back to the entryway when I hear unmistakable muffled voices through the door.
I pause, listening in even though I know I shouldn’t.
“It’s not what it looks like.”
“Really? Because it looks like you two are dating.”
“And what if we are?” Parker challenges Axel.
I grin, able to imagine her clearly. I bet her shoulders are pressed back, and her chin is pushed up, just begging him to keep questioning her.
“Then that’s your business, I guess. But I’m just saying, I remember what happened before when he left, which he will do again.”
“I know how it was, Axel. I was there too. I lived it.”
Fucking hell. The pain in her voice ... It’s not what I expected. My heart was fucking crushed when I left and I realized Parker was never coming out to LA. But I had people to distract me and pull me out of it. I had a shiny new town to explore. Parker had what she’s always had, and I can imagine living here with reminders of us all around had to be tough.
I hate that I hurt her, but I can’t go back and change the past, no matter how badly I want to.
“I know,” he says. “I know. I just ... Fuck, Park, I just want the best for you, all right? You’ve had enough heartbreak between your dad leaving and Noel leaving. I don’t want to see you go through that again.”
“And I don’t want to go through that again, but this is my decision.”
Axel doesn’t respond immediately. Then he sighs. “I’ll respect that. Just ... don’t forget, okay?”
“I won’t.”
“Good.”
I kick open the door, announcing my presence, and Parker jumps, but not Axel.
No. He stares me down hard, his beefy arms crossed over his chest.
“Later, Peter,” I tell her, this time not giving a fuck and stopping to press a kiss to her head.
“Later,” she mutters, blushing.
“Axel.” I nod to him.
“Hollywood,” he responds.
He knows I heard every word. He wanted me to hear every word.
It’s another reminder that he’s been there in ways I haven’t.
It sucks, but it just reinforces what I need to do over these next few weeks—make sure that when I leave, Parker knows exactly how I feel about her this time.
Parker: How mad are you going to be if I say I have to cancel tonight?
I stop lacing up my shoes as I read the text from Parker. I was just getting ready to head to Jill’s to grab a few things for dinner, then walk over to her house.
I type out a response.
Me: Not mad. Just curious why.
Parker: Well, it’s a funny story really ... I forgot it was Monday.
Me: What’s so special about Mondays? Except for the fact they were invented by the Devil, of course.
Parker: Dinner at Axel’s.
Ugh. Fucking Axel again.
I roll my eyes, my thumbs flying over my phone screen as I ignore the incoming text from my agent asking if I got the script he sent over. It’s the one I promised him I’d read, but the second I realized it was a superhero movie some comic book studio is trying to launch as a new franchise, I tossed it aside.
I know it would be a hell of an opportunity, but it would also mean a lot of filming, and I’m not sure I want to make those kinds of commitments now.
Besides, I have other things to worry about, like when I’m going to see Parker again.
Me: You mean to tell me you have dinner at Axel’s on Monday, then Tater Tot Tuesdays at your mom’s the next day? Do you ever cook for yourself?
Parker: Not if I can help it.
Parker: I also go to your gran’s as often as I can, and you know she loves feeding people. I’m usually stocked for days by the time I leave.
Me: Spoiled.
Parker: Says the guy who requires all organic, freshly pressed orange juice in his dressing room with two ice cubes.
Me: I cannot believe they ran that story. It’s so not true, and you know it.
Me: All I did was ask for one glass with No Ice because I’m not Satan, and it got twisted into something else.
Parker: Hollywood is weird. I’d never want that life.
It’s not the first time she’s said something like that, and just like before, it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth because it feels like she’s telling me no all over again.
Me: You don’t even know the half of it. They make up the weirdest shit.
Like the time my friend Jude Rafferty took allergy medicine before a talk show and got a little goofy on them and tripped on live TV, showing the whole world his Snoopy underwear. It then spun into a whole story about him being on drugs, all thanks to one little mistake. It was wild to watch unfold, and I felt awful for the guy, especially since I know he hates the spotlight so much. Luckily for him, he’s found an amazing fashion blogger girlfriend who helps him tolerate it just a little better.
Parker: What other weird stuff have they made up about you?
Me: If you haven’t heard it, I’m not repeating it.
Me: Tell me again why you need to cancel?
Parker: First of all, boooo!
Parker: Second, I promised Axel I’d go to his house before I made plans with you, and I figured you didn’t want to come.
Me: Who said I didn’t?
Parker: Because you hate him?
Me: I don’t hate Axel.
Me: I just don’t particularly like the big fella.
Parker: See? I wasn’t wrong.
Me: But I wouldn’t mind being where you are.
Parker: You ... want to go to Axel’s with me?
Do I want to go and sit at Axel’s dinner table so he can warn me away from Parker or frown at me the entire night? I’d rather eat a spoonful of Vegemite, and that shit is disgusting.
But do I want to spend time with Parker? Yes. A million times yes.
And I’ll endure anything for an hour or two, just to make it happen, even if it’s going to be pure torture.
Me: Are you inviting me?
Parker: Noel Carter, will you do me the honor of being my guest to tonight’s dinner at Axel Cooke’s?
Me: You’re inviting me to be a guest someplace you don’t even know if I’m welcome at?
Parker: Noel !
I laugh, easily able to picture her stomping her foot with a hard stare.
Me: I’m kidding, I’m kidding.
Me: Yes, I’ll come.
Parker: Yay!
Parker: Dinner starts at seven.
Parker: Oh, and bring some red wine. It’s Axel’s favorite. Maybe it’ll be enough to push you into his good graces.
I stand in front of a robin’s-egg blue door, wine bottle in hand and ready to knock.
There’s screeching coming from somewhere inside and the sounds of feet pattering against the floor.
Whatever I’m about to walk into, I have a feeling it’s going to be chaos.
I suck in a deep breath, then knock.
Not ten seconds later, the door flies open, and my eyes go down, down, down to the three identical little girls staring up at me with wide brown eyes.
“Who are you?” one of them asks.
“Stranger,” another answers.
“Bye,” the third says, trying to push the door closed, but the other girls are in the way.
“Miranda, Matilda, Mavis!” Parker calls, and I look up to find her jogging toward the door, grabbing it before they can shut it. “What’d we say about opening the door?”
“Don’t?” the one with pigtails asks, and I have to look away so the others don’t see my smile.
“That’s right. Don’t do that. It could be dangerous.”
“But it’s Emerald Grove. Daddy doesn’t even lock the doors.”
“I do, too, you little snitch!” Axel calls from somewhere inside.
Parker rolls her eyes. “He doesn’t,” she whispers to me, before shooing the kids away. “Go on, now. Go play.”
“Can we play with him?” A chubby finger is pointed my way, the girl’s ponytail whooshing back and forth as she swings her head between Parker and me.
“Well, that’s entirely up to him,” Parker answers, peeking up at me.
I squat down to their level, waving with my free hand. “Hi. I’m Noel. It’s nice to meet you.”
They look to Parker for reassurance before stepping forward.
“I’m Miranda,” the ponytailed one announces. “Are you here to play with us?”
I chuckle. “Depends. What are we playing?”
“I’m Matilda!” the one with pigtails screeches, launching herself at me and throwing her arms around my neck, squeezing me tighter than I expect from a kid. “We can play dolls!”
“I’m not sure Noel would enjoy that,” Parker interjects.
“You kidding?” I say to Matilda. “I would love to play dolls with you.”
I catch Parker’s smile from the corner of my eye, then look to the one who hasn’t spoken a single word.
“Hi.” I offer another wave to the one with red ringlets hanging down past her shoulders, a sparkly purple tutu, and bright-orange rain boots. “If these two are Miranda—”
“And Matilda!” she yells again with an infectious giggle.
I laugh. “And Matilda, then that must make you Mavis.”
She grins, a dimple appearing in each cheek. “I am Mavis, and I like turtles.”
“You do? Do you know a lot about them?”
“I know everything about turtles.”
“Well, then, you’re definitely going to have to tell me about them at dinner.”
“I promise.” She sticks her pinkie finger out, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what she wants.
I loop my own little finger around hers, and we shake on it.
I rise to my feet and look down at the brown-eyed kids. “Well, now that introductions are out of the way, may I come inside?”
Two of the three erupt into cheers. Matilda grabs my free hand, while Miranda tugs on my pants leg. Mavis leads the way, which I find funny, because I have no doubt this kid is likely the quiet leader of the bunch.
Parker steps out of their way, her eyes sparkling as they march me past her and farther into the two-story house.
Hi, I mouth to her, sending her a wink.
She smiles, and it’s worth feeling like I’m being taken prisoner by children.
They drag me through the living room, which is littered with toys yet still looks completely cozy, then down the hallway lined with painted handprints and terrible drawings and straight into the kitchen, where we find Axel and his wife at the stove.
They’re kissing.
“Ew!” the girls yell all at once.
The couple parts, grinning over at the kids, who are now in various states of see no, hear no, and speak no evil with their hands over their eyes, mouths, or ears.
“Go play,” their dad instructs. “Or I’ll bring out the tickle monster.”
They all scream—even Mavis this time—then take off back toward the living room.
“Oh! Noel!” Axel’s wife says excitedly when she finally notices I’m here. She wipes her hands off on the apron that’s covering her swollen belly and comes around the island that’s in the middle of the expansive kitchen. “Oh, gosh. I’m Mary. It’s so wonderful to finally meet you.”
I hold out my hand to shake hers, but she ignores it, going right in for a hug. She squeezes me just as tightly as her daughter did.
“I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to officially say hi before now,” she says as we part. “I was hoping to chat at the auction, but this little one had different plans.” She rubs her belly. “So I’m glad you could make it. Now we get you for the whole night, and I can hear all the stories about this one over here that she refuses to tell me.”
Mary looks pointedly between the best friends as she makes her way back to the stove.
Parker holds her hands up. “Hey, I’m not ratting him out. He pays me.”
“Technically, I don’t. We’re even partners.”
“Does that mean I can say whatever bad things about you I want?”
Axel points a thick finger at her. “Watch it.”
Parker laughs, then reaches for the bottle of wine I brought. She holds it up, eyes wide.
“I said red ,” she whispers.
I shrug. “Oops.”
She narrows her eyes, knowing full well I brought white on purpose.
“Look!” She holds up the bottle. “Noel brought wine.”
“Ooh. White. It’s my favorite,” his wife says excitedly. “Too bad I can’t have any. Ax, have a glass for me.”
Axel just grunts, then takes the bottle from Parker to open it. She moves to a cabinet, pulling down a few glasses, then to the freezer, plunking two ice cubes into one of them.
It’s clear she’s comfortable here, like this is a second home to her.
I can’t deny the pang of jealousy that shoots through me.
I push it aside, then accept the glass of wine Parker hands to me.
She holds her own by the stem, tipping it toward me. She waves Axel over, and he steps between us with reluctance, eyes wary and lips turned down.
“To tonight,” she toasts. “And to my two best friends. May they not kill each other over dinner.”
Axel snorts. “We’ll see about that,” he mutters.
“Axel Joseph Cooke!” his wife admonishes, and he ducks his head.
It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him even the least bit scared, and I can’t help but laugh.
He cuts me a glance, but it doesn’t even bother me.
Not tonight. Nothing can mess this night up.