Chapter 31 Tyler
In the middle of the week, I sneak into town like a fugitive, sticking to back roads and shadows.
No ambush from Adri this time. But that’s probably because I’m lucky.
But in a valley this small, my luck is bound to run out, and I don’t want that to happen while Adri Medina is pissed off and I have no one to stand up for me.
I park at the coffee shop and check my phone for updates.
The social media madness surrounding my set with Phoenix Down has tapered off, and while the recording is forever on the internet, at least I’m no longer trending, which suits me fine.
I don’t want people curious about me. I want to be forgotten so that Naomi isn’t terrified of being seen with me.
When I check my messages, there are two new texts from my contact at the local tour company. The time is confirmed, and the team is on board. I’m still missing a few critical pieces, but I have until Friday to plan the rest.
Naomi's gift has to be perfect. This time, I won’t leave anything to chance.
The girl at the counter gives me a knowing smile as I order—she’s got The Deviant tat on her wrist. I’m glad she doesn’t ask for an autograph. Maybe she’s an original-lineup fan. Maybe Chance Hollowell will be the only guitarist she’ll ever love.
I don’t know why I have all these thoughts in my head.
Is it because I’ve been on break for too long?
Is it because I’m starting to feel irrelevant as a musician?
Or is it because I’ve always had this doubt inside me about my own abilities.
That’s why I’m only good enough to step in when the real star isn’t available.
In any case, I’ve been writing the hell out of my music this past week. Mostly because all these feelings I have need to be processed somehow, and writing is the only way I know to cope.
A few minutes later, I leave the coffee shop like I’m making a getaway, drinks in hand and no time to lose. This place also sells doughnuts, which means there's always a chance of bumping into Adri here.
By the time I’m at the casino, my heart’s pounding like a teenager about to get caught in the act. It’s early, and the restaurant is just opening up. There’s one customer at the bar, drinking coffee and eating eggs, and I look a little stupid with my own drinks.
I scan the back area through the glass wall until I spot her, right where she belongs, owning the kitchen like it’s an extension of her.
I hover at the bar, watching Naomi call out orders to her staff. Her hair is tied back, and she moves like she’s in a beautiful dance with the organized chaos around her. I don’t know how she does it, keeps everything from spinning out of control.
I fumble for my phone, check it for the thousandth time, and my nerves tighten another notch.
There's more to this worry than just a simple date planning.
The memory of the ring that I accidentally saw in her bedside drawer the morning Adri chased me out of her place is seared into my brain like a brand new tattoo.
She kept it. She kept it for seventeen years when I thought it was forever lost.
When Naomi finally sees me, I give her a wave.
The guy behind the bar tips his chin at me but doesn’t approach. He’s already figured out I’m not here to drink. I’m here to see his boss.
Several minutes later, Naomi comes out from the kitchen and walks over to the bar.
"What’s this?" she asks, gesturing at the coffee I brought with me.
"Fuel."
She takes one cup and takes a sip. "Not bad… You do know we have coffee here too."
"I know." I lower my voice. "It's just an excise to see you. Now that we don't get to spend several hours a week together in the community center, I miss you."
"It’s always hectic before graduation. Most parents want their kids to concentrate on their grades at the end of the semester instead of extracurriculars," she explains. "Once school is out, they enroll them into summer programs. I’ll be giving cooking classes this year."
"Can I join?"
"Cooking classes?"
"Yes. If you need someone to wash dishes or sharpen knives." My phone vibrates, and I look at it quickly, hoping it’s my missing piece. It is. My Rancho Mirage reservation has been confirmed.
"What are you up to?" she asks.
"Just a lot going on right now," I say.
Naomi raises an eyebrow. "Like?"
I lean in, lowering my voice even more, as if we're planning a heist. "Can't tell you yet."
She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. "You’re a terrible secret keeper, Ty. Always have been."
"I’ve got something big planned for us. Friday night."
Her smile shifts to interest. "And?"
"I’m picking you up at six. Dress casual. Bring a warm jacket." I draw back, watching her process this.
Naomi narrows her eyes in mock suspicion. "No hints?"
"That’s the hint. Trust me."
The way she looks at me, like she’s trying to solve a puzzle with too many pieces—it’s enough to make me want to spill everything right then and there. But I hold back, trying to play it cool.
"Alright. See you Friday at six. You have my address."
I watch her go, my heart kicking in my chest. I want this to be the best night she’s ever had.
On Friday evening, the limo purrs into her driveway at six sharp.
I’m in the back, and my stomach is a mess of nerves and need. I text her and then climb out of the vehicle to wait.
I’m staring at the blue sky and the sun’s brushstrokes when she steps onto the porch.
The flowers I brought her match her yellow summer dress and the ivory mohair cardigan that’s thrown over her shoulders. Pure coincidence or pure fate? And those boots… God, she's stunning.
She pauses for a second and assesses the view of me and the limo in front of her house.
"Fancy," she comments as she walks over.
"Dating me could be fun." I give her the flowers, wondering if she’s nervous too. She shouldn’t be. Not when I’m promising the moon and the stars and everything in between. Not when I’m doing my damnedest to give them to her now because I couldn’t give them to her all those years ago.
"You clean up nice, Tyler Brady." She rests her free hand on my shoulder and brushes an invisible speck of dust. I’m convinced she’s touching me just because she wants to.
"You like?" I tease, knowing my clothes can’t hold a candle to the way she looks. Dark ripped jeans and a white T-shirt can’t compete with the dress and boots.
But I put in a little extra effort into my hair today, even though it’ll probably be a mess by the end of the night… If things go as planned.
"I should probably put them in water." She gestures at the flowers in her hand and then at her front door.
"Yes, it’d be best if you want them to live."
"Oh?"
"Since they might die if you take them with us." I smile, then drive my point home. "We’re not coming back tonight."
"Well, let’s see how that goes," she counters.
"Are you saying I need to behave?"
"I don’t know if you’ve ever been good at that, Ty."
"True."
She disappears into the house for a moment, and when she’s back, the limo driver is on it, handling the door for us.
In the back seat, her hesitation lasts a second, maybe less. Then she moves toward me, slipping her arm around mine. "Is this your subtle way of showing me how good you’ve got it?"
I hold her tighter. "It’s my subtle way of showing you how good you’ve got it."
She laughs. "Unbelievable."
The space feels too small for everything I want to say, everything I’ve planned for tonight.
I reach over and give her hand a squeeze. She squeezes back, and that’s all the assurance I need.
We settle in, and the limo starts moving, the sound of the engine purring like a happy cat over our small talk.
"Admit it," I say. "You love it."
"It’s…nice," she allows.
I catch her looking at me, that sideways glance she’s had since we were teens, the one that says she’s not quite convinced but wants to be.
"You’re not even a little impressed?"
"Okay," she admits, pretending to be exasperated. "I’m a little impressed."
"A little?" I nudge her. "Just wait."
"You know I’ve been in a limo before."
"I’m sure you’ve seen lots of cool stuff," I agree. I know what it’s like to be surrounded by all that wealth and all those celebs.
I know what it’s like to have pockets full of money.
She’s not a naive girl from the desert anymore.
She’s lived an interesting life. She's seen the same things I've seen.
"I’m going to give you my verdict after the date," she murmurs playfully.
We ride in a cocoon of words and teenage fantasies coming to life.
Outside, the city zips by like a distant constellation.
Her eyes keep meeting mine, and I can feel it—the possibility, the danger of hope.
It’s a heady mix, enough to make me dizzy.
She sees it too, I think, because she leans into me, rests her head on my shoulder.
Eventually, the limo takes an exit and heads for a small airfield, slowing to a halt before the hangar.
"What…?" Naomi looks outside, then at me, confusion and curiosity in her gaze.
"Come on," I urge as the driver is already opening the door for us. "You’ll see."
We step out of the vehicle, and I take her hand in mine.
The field stretches out in front of us, and the balloon at the launch pavilion is already waiting. I watch Naomi’s face, waiting for her reaction.
She turns to me, her eyes wide. "You’re kidding, right?"
"Surprise?" I offer, fully aware how over-the-top it is.
Her laugh is a startled, beautiful sound. "Ty…"
"Too much?" I worry my lip with my teeth, nervous in a way I haven’t been since the first time I told her I loved her.
She shakes her head, disbelieving. "Too much would be space travel. This is…amazing."
I grin, my uncertainty vanishing. I take her hand, feeling the warmth and the strength in her grip. "Then let’s go."
We’re greeted by the ground crew, introduced to our pilot, then informed about the safety protocols.