Chapter 49
The man who takes the seat next to me in Mrs. Packer’s store, in the chair that we once occupied while eating special brownies, doesn’t look like the same man who walked through my door three weeks ago.
Aside from the fact he now looks like the man on the back of his books, the dark circles from under his eyes have diminished, and even his skin glows different.
He makes a scene of walking in holding hands with me. Not just holding hands, but our fingers are intertwined. He moves to the chairs and waits for me to take a seat.
I would have thought I’d walked into the room with a rock star. The noise from adoring fans is deafening.
He turns and gives a little bow. It’s quite cute and his cheeks flush from the attention.
In the front row are Dorothy, Grace, and Amy. Before he takes his seat, he moves to each of them and kisses them on the cheek. Dorothy reaches for his face and gives his cheeks a pat.
My heart flutters at a different pace.
This man.
When he finally takes his seat, Katie, grinning widely, hands us each a microphone.
I wasn’t as nervous seated in the same space yesterday with Sylvia as I am now. There seems to be a different buzz to the air sitting next to Noah.
Every person in the crowd has one or more of Noah’s books on their laps. I’ve seen some of them come through the store in the past few weeks. There is an entire row of book club members who wear a giddy smile as if they knew the celebrity first.
“Wow,” I say at the energy that electrifies the room. “Welcome to our Q why thriller and how did you get started writing that?”
Noah crosses one leg over the other, balancing his ankle on his knee. I think in this moment this is the broody author whom I exchanged curt emails with so many years ago and not the man who sees past all of my flaws.
“Why not?” He says dryly and the crowd laughs.
He studies everyone for a moment and then the corner of his mouth curls up and he reaches for my hand. This I didn’t expect.
“All I can say is Stephen King.”
There is a round of applause at the mention of the name of the beloved author that so many adore.
“This fine lady took me on a private tour of the Stanley Hotel last week.” Again a round of applause for the landmark. “Norman over there,” he points to the man waving at us, “showed me around and let me be star struck.”
“I can confirm you were star struck,” I say and he looks at me and smiles. “What was it about Mr. King’s books that changed your world?”
Noah considers for a moment. “Let’s be honest, it wasn’t the books. It was the movies that caught me first. My teenage years were filled with Stephen King movies, and The Shining was my first.”
“Is that why you fanboyed so hard?” I ask and he actually lifts my fingers to his lips and kisses my knuckles, which causes the masses to aww.
“That’s why,” he confirms. At this point he lets go of my hand, lowers his foot to the ground, and leans his arms on his knees. “I snuck into the theater to see it. I bought a ticket for something else, and well, you know the rest.”
The crowd in Mrs. Packer’s shop laughs.
“I was obsessed by the story, so I bought the book. My mother wasn’t about to let me read it, so that too was purchased on the down low and kept under my pillow.
And then it became an obsession. It wasn’t long before I was filling notebooks with stories.
All kinds of stories. Some I’d share with my family, some I wouldn’t. ”
“And those that you wouldn’t, are those the basis of the hits that we have now?” I ask.
He turns his head and grins up at me. “They most certainly are.”
Noah’s eyes twinkle when he says it.
He may not like this part of the job, the public persona, but he knocks it out of the park.
Katie curated the list of questions for the Q&A and gave them to me before we went on. She didn’t want a repeat of yesterday. She wasn’t leaving much room for open questions.
The hour passes quickly and I love watching Noah work the crowd. They adore him. I adore him.
When we finish, he moves again to Dorothy, Grace, and Amy and hugs each of them, then he pulls me in for a hug that includes a gentle, but lingering kiss. The entire room again erupts and I guess any rumors of him and Sylvia are put on hold. What a crazy ride.
The book signing extends past its two hour mark and rolls into a third. Though Katie works the line to make sure it continues to move efficiently, Noah takes time with each reader. He knows how important it is to his career.
They’ve asked about his next books and the movies that are in production.
I’ve had many questions about my own book, but I try to keep all talk focused on Noah.
He, on the other hand, feeds them as much information as he can on my book and tells them all they can sign up for my newsletter at the counter.
I think I blush each time he mentions it. That stupid book that has been on my computer for nearly thirty years sure is getting a lot of attention. And all because Noah Carter stole it and gave it to someone—because he believed in it—because he loves me.
The thought has me snorting out a laugh to myself and Noah and the woman he’s talking to turn to look at me.
“What’s so funny?” he asks.
I can’t even answer. Every part of it is funny, mesmerizing, a miracle in its own right.
Without him finding that book on my computer no one would notice me sitting here next to him.
Rachel wouldn’t be asking for time with me to work on the book.
She wouldn’t be making calls in the aisles of my store to editors she knows asking if they’d like to look at it.
Before the next person in line moves in front of Noah, I turn my head to look at him and he gazes back at me.
“I love you,” I say and his eyes go wide.
I know I’m caught up in the moment and the feels inside of me are swirling around at a dizzying pace, but I guess I needed to say it.
There is no time for him to react more than he has before the next woman in line lays down a stack of books on the table and begins to gush to Noah about how she loves his twisted mind.
I ease back in my chair and watch the interaction.
It’s different now.
He’s trying to focus on the woman in front of him, but I know the words I just dropped on him are causing his brain to misfire.