Chapter 2 Noah Today
“Sorry—the Jolly Green what?”
“Sorry. From you? Hilarious!”
Neither of us laugh.
The forest-green suitcase is almost as tall as Nell. Which isn’t saying all that much. And as she begins to drag that heavy-ass thing alongside her, the world’s slowest and saddest attempt at storming away, I catch her flinching in pain.
Ah-ha! I knew that rotator cuff injury would still be a problem.
I let myself feel smug for a second. Then, I sigh inwardly. I obviously need to carry the stupid thing for her. But what’s the likelihood that she bares her fangs and bites me before I can get close enough to grab it?
This is the problem with this infuriating woman. She’s stubborn as hell. Would barely accept help even when she liked me… let alone now.
On the flight up, I was genuinely hoping we could see each other and keep it chill this week. Maybe laugh about the past—how it’s ancient history, anyway. Meet as benign acquaintances.
When I spotted her at baggage claim, I legit thought it was a good sign—a chance to ease the tension before we arrived at the property and were surrounded by our shared past.
But seeing her is more confusing than I imagined. She’s just as maddening as always. Her words sting just as much. And, worst of all, she’s just as hot. I can’t tell if I’m more attracted to or irked by her, but whatever I’m feeling, it’s not anything like benign.
The past doesn’t feel so past.
Her thick hair is longer than I’ve ever seen it and streaked with a million shades of light brown and blond.
Back in the day, she used to wear it pin straight, and even then it drove me crazy.
But now she’s letting the waves fly—and it’s next level.
I’d been kind of hoping she’d let herself go over the years or even over-injected her face until she looked like someone else, everyone else, at least in LA—but, of course she didn’t.
She’s Nell. She’s beautiful. Natural. Sprightly. And she’s annoyingly fit.
Even in sweatpants and high-tops, her style is on point.
And though she looks a little tired, her sleepy eyes—that crazy gray color I’ve never seen on anyone else—call to me in a way I don’t want to feel.
I’m not here to wipe that smudge of makeup from under her cat-like eyes with my thumb, though every inch of my body thinks I am.
I’m not here to untangle her necklaces. That hasn’t been my job for years.
C’mon, man. You know better than that.
Grabbing my own reasonably sized suitcase, I follow behind her as she tries to sprint toward the automatic glass doors. I coach myself not to check out her ass. I should not. I will not. And yet, I do. And judging by what rockets through me, it’s a huge mistake.
But I only have a beat to tamp that shit down because she’s racing ahead of me. Injury or no, she will not be stopped. She is intent on escaping me and I’m surprised to feel a pang of hurt.
And that pisses me off.
“Hey, Nell. Eleanor. At least let me help with your stupid…”
“Jolly Green Giant,” she says without glancing back.
“The Jolly Green Giant is jolly. That thing has more Hulk vibes.” Or maybe that’s her.
We make it through the automatic doors and outside onto the curb, and she blinks against the light.
A cloud cover has started to move in, that kind of overcast filter that feels brighter than straight sun.
Clusters of other travelers are huddled near their baggage, awaiting pickups.
Normal travelers. Who don’t loathe each other.
I slide my sunglasses on—I’ll take any barrier between us.
Why am I still standing here?
I tell myself I am acting on a sense of basic decency instilled by my mom and older sister.
Nell is a woman alone, she’s lugging a giant fucking monster of a suitcase, and she is clearly hurt.
It doesn’t matter if she’s a demon in disguise.
Or that she thinks I’m a horrible person—and, around her, I start to wonder if she’s right.
Maybe it was a mistake to come to this thing alone.
An older man in a uniform with an official-looking airport employee badge passes by. “Excuse me,” Nell calls out sweetly—like she’s an entirely other human being. “Sorry to bother you, but do you know if car service pickup is here or…?”
He pauses and grins at her, mistaking her for a normal person—a pretty, polite woman who doesn’t stomp on people’s hearts and eat them raw. “Right across the street here, miss. You need help with that bag?”
“Thank you so much, sir. No, I’ve got it,” she smiles.
“Are you sure?”
“I can help her,” I say, stepping forward.
“No,” she snaps. “You can’t.”
“I could if you weren’t impossible!” I say, losing my temper. “That thing is clearly too big for you and your shoulder is obviously messed up.”
“You’re obviously messed up!” she snipes back, full of venom.
“You’re right. I am. ’Cause for some reason I’m still standing here!”
The airport employee is looking between us like he’s watching the most un-fun tennis volley. Like he’s unsure whether it’s safe to leave or if, since we’re acting like children, he should send us to our rooms.
“Miss,” he says, tilting his head and eyeing Nell meaningfully. “Are you alright?”
Oh, that’s just fucking great. Now I’m a predator.
Thirty minutes ago, I was sitting in a quilted cream leather seat on a private jet eating a legitimately decent steak, feeling pretty damn good about my life. That’s what Nell does to me—in five minutes flat.
“I’m fine,” she says with resignation, her shoulders dropping. “It’s okay.”
The man nods and heads off, glancing over his epauletted shoulder twice to shoot me a warning look. Like he knows where I live.
I groan, everything in me deflating at the prospect of the coming days. I’m doing this for Ben, I remind myself. For Cara. They deserve a week without the stress of… us.
“Listen,” I start.
“No, thanks,” Nell says, avoiding eye contact. “Pass!” Like I’ve just offered her a piece of gum instead of begun a sentence.
I look to the bleached-out sky for strength. Why does she insist on picking up where we left off, so many years ago? Has nothing changed?
That’s when, across the street, I spot a silver-haired driver in his mid-sixties wearing a tailored suit and holding a rectangular sign that reads NELLIE HURWITZ.
I catch the guy’s eye and wave. He throws his hands up like there you are and hurries over.
“Your driver is right here,” I grumble.
She chances a look up at me from beneath her dark lashes but doesn’t speak.
“Listen, we need to find a way to be okay this week,” I force myself to say, my throat tight. “For them.”
She sighs, big. Tips her head back, then rights it, her hair falling over her face. Everything in me wants to brush the rogue strands aside, but I don’t.
“Fine,” she nods. “But this would have been a lot easier with you in a coma.”
“Excuse me?”
But the driver has hustled up and is taking that insane bag from her. And she is at least letting him.
“Hi!” he says. “Apologies. I thought pickup was at baggage claim, but the bags took so long I got worried you’d carried on and I’d missed you!
And then I checked over there, but then you were here and now…
well, now let’s get you to Sonoma for a glass of vino before the traffic gets the better of us. ”
“Sounds great,” Nell says.
The driver examines her behemoth luggage. “Wow. This is a big one. But it’ll fit.”
“That’s what she said,” Nell and I mumble in unison under our breath. We look up at each other in surprise. I see her almost start to laugh, but then she presses her lips together to suppress the smile.
There were reasons why we liked each other. Reasons we made sense. Even though we seemed different on paper.
And they weren’t all raunchy jokes.
“Are you coming too?” asks the driver.
“No!” Nell yelps before I can answer. “No,” she repeats, turning to me. “We are not sharing a car.”
I shake my head. What the hell.
“I’m not trying to take the ride with you, Eleanor. I rented a car.”
“Good,” she says, visibly relaxing. “Then why are you still here?”
“I just stayed to help you.”
She looks me up and down with a scowl, like I am decades late. Which I guess I am. “I’m not the one who needs help.”
And, like so many years before, she turns and leaves. And I am left, confused and angry, staring helplessly at her back as she recedes.