Chapter Seventeen #2
Danielle glances over her shoulder from the front passenger seat. “Hang in there, kiddo. Your mom’s a tough cookie. But you’re a strong one. You’ll survive.”
We drive to a bar and grill close to Danielle’s mother’s house. While snacking on an appetizer platter, we discuss the upcoming wedding.
“Ryan’s parents think we’re crazy to get married before he finishes his residency,” Danielle explains to Noah, “but we don’t want to wait that long. Besides, I have a good job. It’s not like we’ll starve.”
“Yes, you’re very sensible.” I nod. “Mom and Dad love that about you. They tell everyone about your M.B.A.”
“I know. It’s a little weird.”
“So what are your college plans, Noah?” Ryan asks.
Noah glances at me and then back to Ryan. “If you would have asked me a week ago, I wouldn’t have been able to give you a confident answer. But I finally got my acceptance letter this week, and it looks like I’ll be heading to the London Academy of Musical Theatre.”
“Oh, right. I think Faith mentioned something about that.”
“You got in?” My voice is smaller than it should be.
“Yeah.” Noah nods but doesn’t meet my eyes. “I got in.”
“When do you leave?”
“August tenth.”
A sudden burning sensation shoots through the bridge of my nose, stealing my ability to form a coherent thought. I need to say something. This is big news. This is what he wants. This is the beginning of his dream coming true. I should be supportive. I should be happy for him. And I am, but—
Say something! My brain screams.
“Congratulations, Noah. That’s—” I swallow. “That’s awesome.” The spinach dip sours in my stomach. “Um, which program?”
Noah finally meets my eyes. “The three-year program.”
Under the table, he reaches for my hand and gives it a firm squeeze that seems to say, “I’m sorry.”
“I got the letter yesterday. Apparently someone dropped out, and I was next in line.”
I can’t believe he didn’t call me. Or at least text me. This is huge. Life-changing. For both of us.
And I’m finding out about it . . . like this? He could have told me. He should have told me.
I try to pull my hand away, but Noah doesn’t let me.
“I wanted to tell you right away, but I didn’t know how. I didn’t want to ruin this trip for you. I’m sorry.”
I’m being stupid. Selfish. I should be happy for him. “No, no. It’s fine.” I force a smile. “I’m happy for you. Really.”
I am, I argue against the crumbling sensation in my chest. I am happy for him.
But I’m devastated for me.
I try to smile, but I fear the attempt isn’t all that convincing.
“Congratulations, Noah,” Ryan says, clearing his throat around the awkwardness that’s descended on our table. “I take it that’s a pretty good program, huh?”
“It is.”
“Have you ever been across the pond?”
“If you mean England, no. Unless you count a couple of airport layovers when I was a kid,” Noah says. “But I’ve been overseas more than I’ve been stateside. My parents are missionaries. We lived in Eastern Europe for most of my childhood.”
“Missionaries. Right. I think Faith might have mentioned that. How do your parents feel about you pursuing a life in the theatre? That’s a far cry from the mission field.”
“I’m sure they would have liked for me to share their calling, but they understand that I don’t,” Noah says.
“Dad and Mom run a fine arts camp for kids—that’s where I caught the theatre bug in the first place.
They’ve said there’ll always be a place for me on the camp staff, if I’m interested in joining them, but they also know that choosing a job outside of vocational ministry isn’t going to negate my faith.
” The corner of Noah’s mouth lifts. “Besides, I’m an adult, and it’s my life to live. They get that.”
There’s a subtle change to Ryan’s expression when Noah says, “I’m an adult.” When he glances my way, however, I look down at my plate.
It’s true. Technically, Noah is an adult.
I am not.
“You seem pretty grounded.” Ryan leans back and rests his arm on the booth’s ledge, behind Danielle.
An ornery smile flicks at the corners of his mouth.
“Especially for only being nineteen. Not many kids your age could make it through the Ryan Prescott Boyfriend Screening Process.” He laughs, adding, “Then again, who am I kidding? I know very few guys my age who could take it! In fact, I’m not sure I’d even be here right now if Danielle’s brother had done that to me. ”
“You’re terrible.” I give him a stern but fake scowl, even though I want to hug him for taking the conversation away from the dangerous direction it was headed.
“But I’m thorough.” He winks at me and then grins at Noah. “You passed the test for now, but . . .” He shrugs. “We’ll see.”
“In other words, if I hurt your little sister, you’ll hunt me down and break my kneecaps, right?”
“More like skin you alive and experiment with vivisection,” Ryan says. “Keep in mind, I’m a doctor. I have the tools and the skills to do it, too.”
“That is, hands down, the most disgusting thing you have ever said.” Danielle swats Ryan’s arm. “And I had to listen to your account of a bowel obstruction surgery last week, so that’s saying a lot.”
“People eating food here.” I shudder. “Enough with the nasty medical stuff.”
“Well, at least I know where I stand,” Noah says, grinning at Ryan.
The conversation turns, but I have a hard time concentrating against the refrain of he’s leaving, he’s leaving, he’s leaving pounding against my heart.