Chapter 26 Sabrina #2
The slight awkwardness is broken when what’s left of the salad is whisked away and replaced with a variety of meats and side options. I try a little of everything, and every bite is as incredible as the last.
By the time our dessert arrives, I’m afraid Noah might have to throw me over his shoulder and carry me out of here.
I’m glad my dress is so stretchy, because my stomach feels near bursting.
The logical side of my brain knows I should turn down whatever delicious concoction arrives, but when a ramekin of crème br?lée is set in front of me, I can’t not have a bite—or five.
Noah pays the bill, careful to hide the cost from my prying eyes, and after a stop at the restrooms, we head outside.
“Where’s the car?” Chin lifted, I peer up and down the street, looking for the vehicle that dropped us off.
“I thought we could walk a bit first.”
Shoulders slumping, I look down at my shoes.
He follows my line of sight, wincing. “Fuck, I didn’t think about that.” With my hand clutched in his, he guides me closer to the street and surveys the nearby shops. The one across the way looks as though it sells clothes, so we wait our turn to cross the street and head inside.
When the salesperson greets us, he says, “I need some comfortable shoes for my girl.”
The casual way he calls me his girl has my stomach doing somersaults. The declaration and the confidence with which he says it are a shock to me. They shouldn’t be, I guess. This is Noah. From what I’ve experienced, he doesn’t do anything halfway.
With a warm smile, the woman leads us to a section near the back of the store where they’ve got a small variety of shoes displayed.
I immediately reach for a pair of chunky solid-black sneakers. Do they go with my dress? No. But if Noah expects me to trek around London, I won’t be wearing the skyscrapers for shoes that Ebba forced me to purchase.
“I’ll check for your size in the back,” she tells me.
Once she has my information and converts it to European size, she scurries to a door nearby.
While we wait, Noah wraps an arm around my waist, tugging me closer like he can’t bear it if we’re not touching, and turns in a slow circle. “Do you see anything else you like?”
I bark out a laugh. “No. You’ve done enough. I’m not a big stuff person. I just like being with you.”
There it is—the truth that I enjoy spending time with this man.
As vulnerable as it feels to admit it, the way he lights up eases my apprehension.
The genuine joy in his eyes makes my stomach flip-flop.
He’s lived in a shroud of sorrow for a long time, but he’s finally coming back out into the sunshine.
It’s hard to swallow the idea that I could be even a small source of pleasure.
“You like being with me, Curls?”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head. It’s big enough already.”
“Hmm,” he hums, burying his face in the crook of my neck. “But I thought you liked my big head.”
“Noah.” I rear back and slap a hand over his mouth. “Shush.”
He laughs behind my hand, and I can’t help but join him. I’ve never seen him so carefree. From the day we met, he’s hidden behind a broody facade. Now, lighthearted like this, he seems younger.
The saleswoman returns with the shoes, and I sit in a plush velvet chair to try them on.
They’re a perfect fit and despite coaxing on Noah’s part to pick other items I like, I walk out with the shoes only.
They’re far more comfortable than the heels, but if Ebba saw me, I have no doubt she’d be twitching inside.
Outside, Noah takes my hand. His grip is warm and steady, but I ward my heart against that steadiness.
Despite how affectionate he’s been, I’m terrified to let myself get comfortable, to rely on him.
In my experience, nothing good ever lasts.
Love is … well, it’s beautiful when it’s right.
Having a front-row seat to Lucy and Alyssa’s romance has shown me that.
But it can also be painful and cruel. Years of interacting with my parents showed me that.
They’re the two people in this world who should’ve loved me unconditionally, yet they taught me instead that “love” can be used to manipulate and control.
This is different. Noah isn’t them.
Despite the reminder, a kernel of doubt remains in the pit of my stomach. The one that reminds me that maybe I really am unlovable. That there’s a good chance he’ll find me undeserving of his affection, just like they did.
“Hey.” He tugs me off the sidewalk and backs me up against the side of a building. “Why’d you get so quiet on me?”
“Just thinking.”
“Hmm.” He cups my cheek. “About what?”
Though I shouldn’t, I can’t stop myself from leaning into his touch.
Noah might be a grumpy dick at times, but then sometimes he’s like my own personal sunshine. And like a flower, I can’t help but stretch closer, searching for the warmth of his rays.
“It’s not important.”
His fingers are warm and gentle as he pries my chin up. “If something is bothering you, then it’s important to me.”
My heart lurches. Damn him for saying just the right thing.
“I … listen, I’m not saying I’m in love with you or that you have those kinds of feelings for me.
But…” I blow out a breath. “But love scares me. I know good, pure love exists out there. I’ve seen it.
But most of my experience has involved the dark side of that feeling, and I don’t want to be that girl.
The one who desperately needs the guy she likes to like her back or she falls apart. ”
He smooths an errant curl back, his dark eyes like melted chocolate. “I don’t think you could be that girl if you tried. You’re too strong for that.”
I shake my head. “I’m not sure I am. Honestly, I think I’m far more vulnerable than even I realized.”
Looming close, he studies me. Above us, the clouds have gotten thicker, and a light rain begins. Still pressed against the building like this, his big body, thankfully, shields me.
“I can’t promise not to break your heart, Sabrina. I don’t know where this thing is going and I don’t want to make promises I might not be able to keep, but I’m right here with you. Terrified out of my mind of the way I feel.”
I bite down lightly on my bottom lip, fighting back tears that burn at the backs of my eyes. This is why I rarely allow myself to be vulnerable. It brings out the sensitive side of me. “As long as I’m not alone.”
“You’re not.” As the reassurance leaves him, the sky opens up and the rain comes down in earnest. “Shit.”
It’s London, so it’s almost always raining, but according to my Google searches, a downpour of this magnitude isn’t particularly common.
We duck into the nearest building, and as luck would have it, it’s an old bookshop.
I’m not much of a reader, but the scent of old books has always drawn me in. It’s the unknown, the worlds waiting to be discovered between the pages, even if I never crack the spine.
Noah rakes a hand through his damp hair. “That was unexpected.”
By the way my hair is plastered to my head, it’s going to be a frizzy mess when it dries.
“You’re telling me. I take it we won’t be walking through the park now?”
“Maybe if the rain slows.” He starts down an aisle.
I follow him, surveying the dark-wood shelves on either side of me packed full of books.
“Do you read?” I ask when he slows to peruse a shelf.
“I am capable of reading, Curls,” he says with an amused lilt.
With a huff, I roll my eyes. “I mean for fun.”
He shrugs. “I don’t really have the time, but I collect some.”
“Like what?”
“The classics mostly. Very cliché of me, I know.” He tosses a wink my way.
“I like it when they’re worn.” With a finger, he tips a book with a particularly battered spine back, then pulls it off the shelf.
“It tells a story itself, in the way it looks. One like this? It was obviously well-loved, probably read many times. When I look at an old book, I can’t help but wonder where it came from, who loved it, and how it ended up in a place like this.
” He tucks the tome under his arm. Farther down, he removes another.
He flips through it until he comes to a spot marked with a receipt.
“Like this one. The last person who read it used this to hold their place, but never came back. Why?”
He puts that one back on the shelf.
“I’ve never thought about it like that.”
“Most people probably don’t.” He gives a small shrug. “It can be so easy to get caught up in our own lives, to forget the millions of people who exist in this world. I get so busy with practice, travel, and tournaments; sometimes I need moments like this to bring me back to reality.”
In the next aisle, he crouches and plucks another book from the shelf. He looks it over, lips pursed, then returns it.
He does that with a few more books before he finally adds another to the first.
“See anything you like?”
I shake my head. “No, I don’t think so.”
“All right. Let’s see if the rain has slowed.”
As we head to the checkout at the front of the store, I peek out the windows to see that the downpour has diminished to a drizzle once more.
Noah pays for his books and then borrows a pen from the cashier. Bent over the first page of one novel, he scratches out a few words. Then, straightening, he sets the pen down. “Thanks so much.”
“What was that for?” I ask as we walk out.
“You’ll see.” Beneath the awning out front of the shop, he pulls the book out of the small bag the man at the counter provided. Peter Pan. “Take a look. It’s for you.”
My heart stutters. “For me? I told you not to get me anything.”
He chuckles. “If you decide to take up the art of book collecting, this will help get you started.”
I open the book and find that it’s an old library book with names and checkout dates noted on the first page.
At the bottom, he’s added our names, the date, and a scribbled note.
To where the future takes us.
I close the book and hold it close to my chest.
That scribbled note means more to me than he can possibly know.
It’s tangible proof of the connection we’re developing. A reminder that I’m not alone.
We’re doing this together.