Chapter Nineteen
“Did the Shop Mart guys seem happy, though?” Aaron asked Jeremiah. “Did they enjoy themselves?”
They were on a video call. Last night Jeremiah had taken the Shop Mart buying team out for dinner in Manhattan to celebrate their new partnership.
Even though it was Saturday morning now, Aaron wanted a recap.
Jeremiah finished zipping his freshly dry-cleaned tux inside of its garment bag, and he glanced around his room, confirming that the rest of his things were packed for the weekend. Well, everything except for his laptop.
“Yeah, it went well,” he said. “I think they had fun. They’re excited to work with us.”
Jeremiah had treated the team to dinner at Le Bernardin.
The buyers were based out of Seattle, so afterward they’d asked Jeremiah to show them the best bars.
Jeremiah had wanted to beg off. The last place he’d wanted to be was at the bar.
He didn’t want to risk another awkward run-in, like with Theo at Amara’s party.
But declining to entertain the Shop Mart team wouldn’t have been good for business, so he’d taken them to Piano Bar in SoHo and had kept a smile plastered on his face the entire time.
Luckily he hadn’t seen anyone that he’d recognized.
“That’s great,” Aaron said, leaning back in his chair.
He was dressed in golf gear. He’d been part of a golf club at NYU.
In the early-morning hours when Jeremiah had been dragging himself back to their dorm after a night out, he’d run into Aaron leaving with his caddie bag slung over his shoulder.
“I knew that I could count on you to show them a good time.”
Jeremiah huffed out a laugh and nodded, even though he didn’t like feeling as though his talents were reduced to entertaining clients.
He’d helped expand Good Boy’s business in a short period and he was moving across the country to be with the rest of the team, but Aaron still saw Jeremiah as the unserious, privileged kid from college who knew how to charm.
Jeremiah couldn’t blame Aaron for his perspective, given Jeremiah’s past. He just wanted to be given a bit more credit now.
His attention was diverted as his phone vibrated on his desk beside his laptop. He’d received a text from Noelle.
I’m all packed and ready
Being with the Shop Mart team last night meant that Jeremiah and Noelle hadn’t driven down to Heart Beach like usual.
It also meant he’d spent a lot of last night’s dinner thinking about Noelle.
About how she’d opened up to him and revealed the tender, hidden parts of herself.
About how he wanted to know more. How he wanted to tell her more about himself.
Once the weekend ended, they returned to their separate worlds, because that was part of their deal.
But he wanted to stay in her orbit. What was she doing when they weren’t together?
What was she thinking about? Was she thinking about him the way he increasingly thought about her?
He could have shoved his feelings down deep and avoided assessing them. But that all went out the window when they’d started texting.
It started on Monday night. He’d texted Noelle to let her know they’d have to leave Saturday morning instead of Friday evening because of his meeting.
She’d responded a few minutes later to say that was fine.
He’d stared at his phone and wondered if he should try and continue the conversation, wondered if doing so would be a breach of their spoken and unspoken rules.
He’d watched as her text bubbles appeared then disappeared.
Maybe she’d been wondering the same thing.
Encouraged, he’d texted, Wyd? Simple. Not too invasive.
Not even flirty. She’d responded, Guess.
He’d smiled and texted, Hopefully not riding a jet ski.
She’d sent a handful of laughing emojis.
Then, Haha very funny, followed by a selfie of her lying in bed with a book on her chest, a murder mystery.
An opened box of salted caramel chocolate chip cookies was on the bed beside her.
Probably the box he’d given her on Sunday before they’d left Heart Beach.
Her braids were wrapped in a bun, and she looked fresh-faced and beautiful.
His heart tugged as he looked at the picture.
He’d wanted to text back You look beautiful.
But they weren’t at Daniela’s dress shop, and this wasn’t a situation where Noelle was waiting for his opinion on her appearance.
He’d already felt like he’d overdone it last weekend when he’d called her pretty, then stunning as they’d stood in the kitchen.
He didn’t want to overstep or make her uncomfortable.
So, instead, he’d texted, I have something to tell you. It’s a family secret.
What is it??
If you eat too many of our cookies, you actually turn into one. You probably have about five more days left as a human. I’m sorry.
She’d sent the laughing emoji again. Going out as a cookie isn’t the worst way.
He’d responded, Lol true. And she hadn’t texted back after that.
He’d figured maybe that was the end of it. He hadn’t wanted to seem thirsty or annoying by texting a second time. But then on Tuesday afternoon, she’d sent him a picture of a sphynx cat on the cover of Modern Pets Magazine.
Is this what Caesar looks like?
He’d laughed, remembering how she’d told him about her late-night run-in with Caesar.
Kinda, but he’s older. Then, Where are you? And how did you find that magazine?
I’m at the hair salon with Tati, waiting for her to take her lunch break. They have all kinds of magazines here. What are you doing?
He told her that he’d just finished his lunch break.
She’d wanted to know what he’d had to eat, and then he’d given her the backstory on how he ate the same grilled chicken wrap every day from the café across the street during the week because the elderly woman who ran the shop always greeted him with a warm, How you doing today, honey?
And he was a ham who loved the attention.
But mostly it was because he wanted to be intentional about supporting a Black-owned business.
Noelle had told him that she loved that, before jokingly encouraging him to try other items on the menu.
They’d continued texting on and off for the rest of the day, and later that night after his run.
Their conversation bled into Wednesday, and by the end of the week, it seemed normal, routine even, that a good chunk of his day would be spent texting with Noelle.
Every time his phone vibrated, he felt a boost of serotonin in his brain.
There were so many times that he’d wanted to text, I want to see you.
Can I come pick you up? But he hadn’t wanted to press his luck or cross a boundary.
He was anxious to finally see her in person today.
He texted her back now: See you soon.
He heard his apartment door open and close. It was Amara returning with smoothies.
“Hey, my sister just got back,” he said to Aaron now. “I have to head out, but we’ll talk Monday?”
Aaron nodded. “Definitely. And tell your mom I’m sorry again that I couldn’t make the gala.”
“Will do.”
They ended the call, and Jeremiah found Amara in the kitchen, fiddling with the strap on her duffel bag.
She lived in central Jersey, closer to Celeste, and she’d stayed over last night because she’d gone to an art gallery event in the city with some of her college friends.
Jeremiah, Amara, and Noelle were driving down to Heart Beach together.
“Hey, thanks,” he said, crossing the kitchen and picking up the smoothie she’d bought for him.
“You’re welcome.” Amara rubbed her eyes. Jeremiah had been asleep for hours by the time Amara used his spare key to come inside.
“How was the event?” he asked.
“Cool,” she said. “It’s always fun to be back in that environment. It makes me think of how the art world was my whole life in college.”
Even though Amara’s passion was oil painting, she’d studied graphic design at the Rhode Island School of Design.
Unlike many of her college classmates, after graduation Amara hadn’t moved to New York City.
She liked being on the Smith’s Sweets graphic design team.
With her great eye for aesthetics, she had a lot to do with the brand’s overall look.
She’d always been keen like that. When they were kids, she used to repaint and redecorate her room every other year.
And she used to force Jeremiah and Percy to sit for portraits.
She’d carried a small sketchbook with her everywhere.
When she enrolled at RISD, no one had been surprised.
Now she painted in her spare time and sold the paintings to friends of friends, and every year, she created a painting for the gala fundraiser. But mostly, she painted for fun.
“You could still try and get your art in a showcase,” Jeremiah said. “You’re more than talented enough.”
Amara waved him away. “Nope. Once your passion becomes your job, it loses all luster.”
Jeremiah smirked, about to tell Amara he didn’t think that was completely true. Then his phone vibrated, and he felt a jolt to his system, knowing he’d most likely received a text from Noelle. She’d responded, See you soon
“Wow,” Amara whistled, grinning at him. “Somebody has hearts in their eyes. I’m guessing that’s Noelle texting you?”
He hadn’t even realized that he’d been smiling.
Of course Amara wouldn’t find anything wrong with him grinning at his phone.
She thought that Noelle was his real girlfriend.
Only he and Noelle knew that in three weeks, their “relationship” would be over.
The thought bothered him more and more every day.
“What about you?” he asked, cleverly turning the conversation back to Amara. “You dating anybody?”
“No one worth speaking about,” she said, making a face.
Amara had a thing for dudes who connected with her on a creative level but had an aversion to commitment.
Suffice to say, she hadn’t ever dated anyone whom Jeremiah had particularly liked.
Then again, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever think anyone was good enough for his sister.
She glanced at the time. “We’d better leave before Mom calls asking for our ETA.”
They gathered their things, hopped in the car, and drove to Brickton. Noelle was waiting in her usual spot on the sidewalk in front of her apartment. She was wearing a new sleeveless light pink dress and white sneakers.
She waved as they pulled up, and he finally understood what people meant when they said that someone was a sight for sore eyes.
Amara started to get out of the passenger seat so that Noelle could sit up front, but Noelle encouraged Amara to stay where she was. Jeremiah walked around the front of the car to take Noelle’s suitcase and put it in the trunk.
He smiled at her, heart pounding. He fought the urge to immediately pull her into his arms without speaking first. “Hi.”
“Hi,” she said, smiling back.
Then he hugged her and exhaled a deep, pent-up breath.
“I swear you two are just way too adorable,” Amara said, rolling down her window.
Noelle glanced up at Jeremiah, almost shyly. He wondered if she felt this thing growing between them too. But asking her would only complicate things more.
Noelle climbed in the back seat, and Jeremiah disconnected his phone from the Bluetooth. Noelle’s phone automatically connected. “Summertime Fine” by a singer named Angel started to play.
“Ooh, I haven’t heard this in forever,” Amara said, as Jeremiah pulled out of the apartment complex.
“We’re working through Noelle’s R and B playlists,” he explained.
Amara glanced between them. “I love that.”
Jeremiah caught eyes with Noelle in his rearview mirror, and they shared a smile. He wished she’d sat in the passenger seat. She felt too far away.
“I looked up some pictures online of past galas,” Noelle said. “It seems like a lot of fun.”
“It is. You’ll enjoy yourself,” Amara said. “We always do. And it’s in the name of a great cause.”
“The dance floor is usually packed all night,” Jeremiah added.
“Our grandfather loved to dance.” Amara pivoted to look at Noelle. “He and our mom were always the first two out on the dance floor.”
At the last gala two summers ago, Pop and Celeste had walked onto the dance floor arm in arm. Pop had started doing an old dance that he’d called the mashed potato. Celeste had covered her face in fake embarrassment as everyone had laughed.
“Jeremiah?”
He blinked to attention and realized that Noelle had been calling his name. He’d been too focused on the past.
“Sorry,” he said, looking at her in the rearview mirror. “What did you say?”
“I asked if you’re gonna dance with me tonight.”
“Of course.” He smiled, and she grinned back. “I got you.”
It would be hard attending the gala without Pop for the first time, but maybe having Noelle with him tonight would make things easier.