Page 184 of After All This Time

“Okay. Please, hurry up.”

“I know. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

I hang up the phone, smacking Noah’s shoulder blade. “You’re really something, you know that? That was my mom. We needed to be there fifteen minutes ago. We need to go. Now.”

Noah gets up as I fix my dress. “Do you know how hot you are when you’re pissed off like this?”

“If you don’t get in the car right now, you're sleeping in the guest bedroom tonight,” I threaten him.

“I’m going!” He kisses me on the forehead and runs out of my room.

My purse is slung over my shoulder with my phone in the side pocket. I don’t have time to say goodbye to Archie or time to look for him.

Booking it out the front door, I lock the top and bottom locks with my key.

I walk towards the car, Noah is sitting in the driver’s seat. I plop my ass down in the passenger’s seat.

“There’s no goddamn way I’m sleeping in the guest bedroom tonight,” he says.

“That’s my good fucking boy.” A devilish smirk grows across my lips.

He bites down on his bottom lip, wetting them afterward. “Oh, I could get used to that.”

“Okay, let’s go.” I buckle my seatbelt, putting my purse down on the floor in front of me.

He stares off into space, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tight he could break it.

“Hey, baby.” My hand intertwines with his, eyes locking on mine.

I know how hard today is for him. He hasn’t said a word about today in the last two weeks. Not surprising because I know how difficult it is to talk about losing someone who meant the absolute world to you. And now you’re saying goodbye. It’s like they were never here in the first place.

I’ve got to hand it to him. He hides his grief well. Too well. I’m terrified that it’s all going to blow up in his face. His mother and sister’s faces. And mine.

“Do you want me to drive?” I ask.

He’s staring at the garage door. “No, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“You’re the one who told me we need to go. Stop asking me questions that don’t matter,” he snaps.

“Forget I even asked,” I huff.

There’s this knot in my chest getting tighter. It tugs at my heart, attempting to pull it down to my waist.

He’s hurting. Remember how you felt when you lost Dad and had to go to his funeral?

Struggling to hold back tears, I turn my head to look out the window. This is where I’ll be for the next fifteen minutes, pretending like I don’t exist.

“I didn’t mean…”

“Just drive.”

He reaches his hand out to thread it into mine. I pull it away, sandwiching both of my hands underneath my thigh.

I’m here to support Noah.

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