26. Sabrina
CHAPTER 26
SAbrINA
I still don’t know how Ebba made it all happen in such a short amount of time, but somehow my fingers and toes both boast fresh nails in a soft pink color. The clothing store was prepared for us, with ensembles pulled and ready for me to look at. Before I could inspect them, though, Ebba shoved me into a changing room and handed me one option after another, refusing to let me veto anything until she saw it.
As I walk toward the front of the hotel where I’m supposed to meet Noah, the heels Ebba insisted on click-clacking on the marble floor, I feel like a stranger. I’m only wearing the shoes because she threatened to drop my favorite pair of boots off the hotel’s balcony if I didn’t. I never would have chosen the shimmery black dress with a floral design, but she swore it was the one. I can’t help but think she chose it because of the halter neck. Why would that be the deciding factor? Because I didn’t bring a strapless bra, so I was forced to purchase one, along with the matching underwear she insisted on.
The final components of the ensemble are the gold bracelet and the small purse that cost more than what I owe in student loans. But again, I wasn’t allowed to refuse, and since Ebba was in control of Noah’s card, there was no way around it.
I’m so focused on not falling on the steps that lead out of the hotel that it takes a moment for me to realize that Noah is standing at the bottom.
When I do notice him, there’s no mistaking the mix of awe and lust in his expression.
And damn, does he look good. He always does. It’s annoying. Even when he’s sweating on the courts. But tonight, he’s put in the extra effort.
He’s wearing a black button-down tucked into a pair of black dress pants with a (shocking) black belt. His hair is still damp from a shower, the ends curling at his nape. I ball my free hand into a loose fist so that I don’t reach out and tug on the strands.
“You’re stunning.”
The praise warms me from the inside out.
With a hand low on my waist, he pulls me close, and I inhale a lungful of his heady scent. “You have no idea how fucking beautiful you are.” His words are pure gravel.
I certainly feel beautiful when he looks at me like he is.
The driver opens the car door, and Noah guides me into the back seat. He waits until I’m settled before he rounds the vehicle and gets in on the opposite side.
As we pull away from the curb, I can’t help but drink in the sights. What has my life become? I’m in London , going on a date with my boss, who happens to be an incredible tennis player and adorable father.
A year ago, I couldn’t have imagined this scenario. This kind of luxury is so foreign to me. Five-star hotels and private planes don’t exist in my universe, but they do in Noah’s, and now, for some wild reason, I’m a part of that.
“What are you thinking?” he asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Nothing.” I give him a small smile and shake of my head. “Just taking it all in.”
With a hum, he sits back against the plush leather seat. “It’s a beautiful city.”
Nerves skittering, I shift to face him. “I wouldn’t be experiencing this if it weren’t for you. Thank you.”
He chuckles, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Don’t get all soft on me now, Curls. I like it when you give me hell.”
“It’s true, though.” I lace my fingers in my lap and squeeze them tight. “If you hadn’t given me this job, I wouldn’t be… I never would have seen any of these places. It’s a privilege to travel like this, and I don’t take it for granted. I want you to know that.”
He dips his head in response. “I was kind of forced to give you the job, you know.”
Laughing, I duck my head. “Maddie or Fisher? Both?”
“Neither.” His expression softens. “It was you. You were the most deserving of it.”
My heart stutters, making it suddenly hard to take in a full breath. The acknowledgment that he saw even on that first day that I was suited for this job, means so much. Most days I feel like an impostor. Even though I hadn’t considered a position as a nanny until this landed in my lap, it’s turned out to be one of the best experiences of my life. Spending time with Maddie is far more rewarding than I could’ve ever thought it would be.
“At least you finally admit it,” I joke, giving his hand a small squeeze.
He laces his fingers with mine and rests our hands on his thigh.
“That you needed me,” I finish, my treacherous heart accelerating like it’s caught up in a high-speed race to see how quickly it can fly out of my chest.
He rubs his thumb gently over the tops of my fingers. “I don’t think you realize how much I do need you.” His words are so quiet they’re almost impossible to hear. “It’s terrifying.”
He holds my gaze, and I see it there. He feels this too. The tether connecting the two of us. It’s scary. I’ve never met a man who affected me the way Noah does.
I didn’t know feelings this intense were possible.
Before Maddie—the little mastermind—orchestrated this date, it would have been easy to put on the brakes, to stop things before they even get started. And maybe we should have, because knowing that she likes the idea of her dad and me together makes the pressure of trying and failing at a relationship all the more frightening.
Noah and I aren’t the only ones at risk of being hurt if this all goes up in flames.
But based on what I’ve experienced, the risk is worth the reward. And if I end up hurt? Well, I’m used to that.
The restaurant is posh, with a sleek black marble facade. Holy hell. It’s stunning, but it had to have cost a large fortune to build.
“Wait here.” Noah slips out of the car, then opens my door with a proffered hand. “Milady.”
His attempt at a British accent is pitiful, but it helps ease some of the tension from my shoulders.
As I straighten and take in the structure again, the anxiety threatens to reappear. Based on the outside alone, I clearly don’t belong here.
I understand now Ebba’s insistence on the designer attire and her threat of tossing my boots.
The inside is just as opulent. More black marble and dark-hued wallpaper covered with flowers and golden snakes winding through and around the petals. I double-check to make sure my mouth is closed (it is) rather than gaping open as I take it all in.
As we approach the hostess desk, the woman behind it says, “Welcome, Mr. Baker. Your table is ready for you.”
Wow. The man didn’t even have to give his name.
He lets go of my hand, but only so he can slide it down to my waist and give me a gentle nudge in front of him.
The main dining area is open and dotted with tables. We pass through it until we reach the far side and the alcove there that branches out to a series of private booths.
“Enjoy.” She bows her head, then leaves us.
I slide into the booth, and when Noah slides in beside me rather than across the table, the heat of him radiating into me, I startle.
Having him this close, inhaling his delicious scent, might be too much for me.
“Where are the menus?”
His leg brushes mine as she shifts. “There’s no menu. They’ll bring one course out at a time.”
“Oh.” My cheeks heat. “I’ve never been to a place like this before.”
“It’s a new experience for me too,” he says, his hand finding mine and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “My kid’s favorite place in the world is the Cheesecake Factory, so experiences like this are few and far between.”
For a moment, I study our hands, his rougher, lighter skin against my softer, darker tone. “So why are we here?”
“Because you deserve a memorable night.”
I sigh, taking in his dark eyes, his dark brows, his strong nose. “I would’ve been happy with McDonald’s.”
At my poorest, there were days where I couldn’t even afford a fast-food cheeseburger.
“I’m not taking you to McDonald’s on a first date,” he scoffs. “The second one?” He quirks a brow. “Maybe.”
I laugh at his attempt at a joke.
“I thought we could try something new together. That’s all.” His look is so earnest I can’t help but melt a little.
I lean in, the privacy of the booth making me bold, and press my mouth to his. My intention is to keep the kiss light, but before I can pull away, he threads his fingers behind my neck and holds me to him. Even the way he kisses me is a new experience. I’ve never been kissed like this before. He takes his time, memorizing the taste of me with his tongue. He’s slow and careful, but not cautious. No, his movements are full of confidence.
He releases me, his breaths heavier than they were before. “You are perfect.”
My heart stutters as the words register.
Sure, they’re simple, and maybe, if he were another man, I’d assume that sentence was nothing more than a throw-away phrase, but with Noah, I know better. No one has ever called me perfect, and the idea that he thinks of me in such a way makes me glow inside.
Our first course appears with a soft whisper of fabric as the server sets the dishes on the table. It’s some kind of soup, served with bread and a special, delicious spread that I can’t decipher based on taste or smell.
We’ve barely finished with those when our salads arrive.
“I’m never going to be able to eat again,” I whisper. “And we haven’t even gotten to the main course.”
With an amused chuckle, he nuzzles my neck, his breath warm. “You’ll be fine.”
I’m not quite sure what to make of the man snuggled up beside me. I never would have expected him to be so touchy feely.
His lips on my neck.
His fingers grazing my wrist. Hip. Shoulder.
Every touch only makes me crave more.
“Noah,” I gasp when he nips at the place where my neck meets my shoulder.
“Sorry.” I swear that when he pulls away, his cheeks are tinged pink.
“It’s okay.” I don’t want him to feel like he can’t touch me, but I’m also getting a little too turned on, and we’re in a public setting.
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.