“How’s the book coming along?”
“Pretty good. I’ve been having the worst writer’s block today, though.”
Noah’s eyes light up as he watches me talk to Marina.
She turns to him. “Ah, if isn’t the troublemaker himself. I’m so sorry to hear about your dad. How are you holding up?”
“I honestly don’t know how to answer that question,” he says.
“Death is a fickle thing. I remember when I lost my mom. I had no idea what I was going to do without her. I knew she wanted me to run this place when I got old enough. It was terrifying because, by the time I took over, she was gone. I didn’t have any idea what I was doing.” She pauses. “The people who say time heals all are a bunch of liars because it’s not the whole truth. It doesn’t take time to heal an open wound. All it takes is you believing in yourself that you can make it through whatever life decides to throw in your face.”
“You sound like my mom,” Noah says.
“She’s right.” Her face lights up as she smiles at us. “I’ve held you two up long enough. What can I get for you?”
Noah gestures to me with his hand. “Ladies first.”
Why is he being nice to me? This is freaking me out.
I turn my gaze away from Noah, directing it towards Marina. “The usual. I mean, if you remember.”
“Oh, honey, I remember,” Marina says. “What about you, Noah?”
He looks at me and looks up at Marina. “I’ll have what she’s having.”
“I don’t know if you want to do that.”
“I’ll risk it,” he blurts out.
“Okay, suit yourself.”
“God, I remember when you two were babies. Now, you’re old enough to have babies,” Marina blurts out.
“Marina!” I raise my voice.
“What? Lots of young people are getting pregnant early these days. You guys would make good looking babies.”
I bury my face in my face to allow the redness in my cheeks to subside.
“Oh, I’m just kidding. I’ll go put your orders in,” Marina says as she walks to the touchscreen to input our orders.
“She’s right, you know.” He pauses. “We’d make beautiful babies.” He breaks out into this laugh that shoots straight into my bones.
My hands make their way underneath my chin as my eyes meet Noah’s. “Shut up.” I shake my head, giggling.
He chuckles. “Hey, what’s up with the writer’s block? Maybe I can help.”
I laugh so hard I start to choke. “Y-you want to h-help me?”
“People tell me I can be helpful.”
“What people? Your mom?”
I look at him and he meets my gaze, goosebumps are prickling all over my arms.
“Hey, I’ll have you know my mom thinks I’m one of the most helpful people ever.” He leans back against the back of the booth, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Right,” I say with sass pouring out of my voice. “I doubt you’ll be able to help me, but let’s give it a shot.”