Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Chase
The insistent buzzing of Noah’s phone on his desk has him pulling back, and I bite back a groan.
I missed him last night, which I think would sound petulant if I said it out loud, so I’m not.
I snap to attention when Noah hurries to pick up once he’s seen the caller.
“Hey, Mum,” he says in that sweet, soft accent that drives me to insanity whenever he talks.
I listen to his side of the conversation, a lot of humming and short yes or no answers, but then she must say something interesting because he snaps his head up and stares at me with wide eyes.
“Uh, yes. Let me just make sure that would be a good time for it, okay? I’ll send you a message to confirm. Yes. Good. Thanks, Mum, have a nice day too.”
“What’s up?” I ask as soon as he sets the phone down.
“My parents . . . they, uh. They’ve invited us to dinner this weekend.”
My brain stutters to a halt, but then I remember I’m fifty-three fucking years old, and though nerves are fine, fear and apprehension are not.
“That’s great.” I hurry the words out and paste on a smile—one that’s almost fully genuine.
“It is?” he asks, with a healthy dose of skepticism.
“I think so,” I tell him simply.
“All right. If you like the idea then I’ll text her right now.”
“Perfect.” I lean in for one more kiss, then pull back with just a little resentment for the timing of the call. “I’ll head up to get to work, but will you come home with me tonight? I want to hear every detail of your day.”
“All right,” he murmurs, but his soft smile looks beyond pleased.
“What took you so long?” I hiss, this time almost proudly sounding petulant.
“It’s six in the fucking morning, Chase. Get off my back,” Gab grumbles.
“Yeah, well, it’s two in the afternoon here, and I thought you woke up earlier.”
“Nope. I’ve changed things up in the last year and now it’s only at six. So, what’s so important that it has you blowing up my phone in the middle of the night?”
“It’s not the middle of the night,” I grumble.
“Whatever, just tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it for you and then go drown in coffee.”
I snort half-heartedly at that mental picture, then sigh heavily.
“I’m meeting Noah’s parents this weekend.” I drop the bomb without much fanfare, but from her gasp of surprise and squeal, you’d think I just spoiled the ending of her favorite show.
“So you two are together finally?”
That’s not really the important part, but since it’s her, and I know that her need for gossip can be crippling for her sometimes, I let it pass.
“Yes, we are. It’s a long story.”
“You got anywhere else to be?” she sasses.
“No,” I grumble, then admit defeat. I tell her everything that happened after they left the castle, and ever since with Noah.
“You bagged yourself the cutest guy on the planet,” she says, sounding almost wistful, though I know she’s not.
“I did, and now we’re going to have dinner with his parents and I don’t know what the fuck to do,” I whisper-shout.
“Okay, first of all, maybe start acting your age? You’re not a fumbling teenager or a struggling nobody. You’re Chase fucking Knightly, and they’re going to love you just based on how much you love Noah, so . . .”
That word . . .
Love.
It stays stuck in my mind while I keep trying to listen to every word she says carefully.
“He’s pretty amazing, so you’ve got to figure his parents have had more than a little to do with that.”
“That’s true,” I admit.
There are exceptions, of course, like my family.
I’m definitely not the person I am today thanks to my parents, more like despite them.
“You just be your charming self, respectful but don’t act scared, don’t act like they’re a lot older than you.
The best course of action, I think, is to act as normal as possible.
Compliment them on Noah, that’s what all parents want to hear.
Bring flowers and a good bottle of wine, and be prepared to maybe be forced to prove you’re worthy of their son. ”
Yeah, like that’s not beyond daunting.
“Okay,” I drag on, letting her know she’s got my full attention.
“Is that really all you want to talk about?”
Unlike the start of our conversation, I can no longer hear any sleepiness in her voice, so while I’ve got her, I’m going to take advantage.
“That’s the most important part, yes, but I also wanted to ask how you managed to write your own book without the help of a ghostwriter?”
“Ah,” she says, in a mock-wise tone. “I simply researched everything I could find on how the publishing business works. Then I advocated for my value with the publishing houses, and finally I found the book that I actually wanted to write.”
“Yes, this I understand perfectly.”
“I knew you would.”
“I did have help from one of Adam’s friends from college, like I told you, and of course my brother helped too, but the help from Bennett was invaluable just to put the structure of the book together.
He also helped me edit a lot, but that’s mostly because I didn’t want to give power over my manuscript to anyone else. ”
That gets me thinking about who I could ask for help . . . Of course there’s Noah, but as far as I know, he hasn’t written any books.
I’ll have to make sure to ask tonight.
“Did I tell you we changed the whole concept?” I ask, and get ready to deliver another lengthy, detail-fueled recollection of everything that led to Noah having that stroke of genius in my library two weeks ago.
I’ve always enjoyed surprising Gab, and when I finally get to the part about what to call the book, her audible gasp has me grinning like a lunatic.
This is the kind of energy I want to have for the meet-the-parents dinner this weekend, because nothing but my best will do for Noah’s parents.