When in Rome(86)

I expect him to drop my hand. I’m preparing for the loss of it. Instead, his grip tightens and he answers, “I’m going with you.”

“Noah!”

This time he breaks our hold and crowds me, cupping my jaw in his hands and looking fire into my eyes. “I’m not leaving you. I thought I could keep this temporary but—” He breaks off, shaking his head and kissing me hastily. Nearly painfully. It’s the most exquisite torture. “I don’t want it to be over between us. I can’t let it be over.”

I’m breathless with hope. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying fears be damned. I want a relationship if you do.”

“I do!” I say so fast he was barely able to finish his sentence.

“But you’ll have to be patient with me—”

“I will!”

“—because it’s going to take some time for me to get used to the distance thing. And I still need to be around to take care of my grandma so I won’t be able to visit you much.”

I go up on my toes to wrap my arms around his neck. “We’ll figure it out. And I’ll give you so much patience, you’ll be overwhelmed with how benevolent I am. But, Noah, are you sure? Just last night—”

This time he cuts me off. “Last night, I held you in my arms and realized I’d be an idiot to ever let you go. Not only an idiot, but I’d be miserable. I could never forgive myself for letting you get away.”

I shake my head frantically, smiling and trying not to cry. “Mr. Romantic.”

“Mr. Ridiculously Lucky.”

“Shush. I told you not to encroach on my nicknames.”

He grins and his eyes lower to my mouth. “So is that a yes? You’ll officially date this lowly pie shop owner?”

“As long as you never refer to yourself as that again, yes. Absolutely times a million.”

He kisses me once more and slides his hand up my arm before taking my hand and continuing our escape down the alley. “We’ll figure out the details when we get home.” Home. The sudden burst of joy I feel hearing that word nearly trips me.

But when Noah and I surface from the alley, we immediately realize our mistake. Somehow they knew this is where we’d end up, and all sorts of paparazzi and media are gathered in the parking lot—waiting for us. My heart lurches and I try to turn back before they notice us, but I’m not fast enough.

“There she is!”

“Rae Rose!”

“Rae, over here! Who’s the guy?!”

“Is it true you’ve been having a love affair with a pie shop owner?”

They’re all shouting and racing toward us. Noah grips my hand firmly and looks down at me. “What do you want me to do? Do we make a run for it?”

I swallow and allow myself one second of anger before I train my face into an impassive expression for the flashing cameras. I cover my mouth and angle my face up to him so they can’t read my lips. “We need to get to your truck. Don’t say a word to them other than asking them to move as we walk.” I wish I could have had more time to prepare him for how to interact with the media, but there’s no better way to learn than as you go, right?

Holding hands and keeping our gazes down, we walk toward his truck. But the paparazzi are hungry today and they form a barrier around us, taking advantage of my lack of security.

“Excuse me. Move. Let us through.” Noah is doing a valiant job of trying to get me through the pressing maze of media, but they’re not budging. I keep tugging on his hand because I can feel his rage building and I’m afraid he’ll do something rash like shove the guy who’s currently putting his camera about five inches from my face and yelling questions at me.

“Who are you with right now, Rae?” He’s so close I smell what he had for lunch.

“Back off,” Noah barks at him, but he doesn’t relent.

“Is he your new boy-toy? Are you finally veering away from your rich and successful type?” He’s trying to provoke us into an answer, and I can feel that Noah is close to snapping.

Noah angles his shoulder in front of me so he can make better eye contact with the paparazzi. “I said back off and let us through.”

All the others are closing us in as well, shouting questions and begging for a comment, but they’re not as in-our-face as this man. “Sure thing, big guy. Just answer my question and I’ll back right off. What makes you think an average guy like you is good enough for a worldwide star like her? Care to comment?”

Panic seizes me at his question. I’ve been cornered like this before in my career, and it’s terrifying each time, but I’ve never heard a paparazzi say something so cutting or intentionally insulting. Also, something about his question is niggling the back of my mind. Like I’ve heard it before.

Is this how it will always be for Noah? The media constantly reminding him of his place? This time it’s me who is about to snap. I ball my fist—to what—punch him? I think so, because in the next moment, Noah is covering my fist with his hand and when I look up at him, he shakes his head the tiniest bit. Don’t do it.

To make things worse, new voices enter the mix.

“Hey! Get away from them. Leave our girl alone!”

I look over my shoulder to the sound of Mabel and Harriet, along with Phil and Todd yelling angrily at the paparazzi. No, no, no. They need to go inside. There’s no reason anyone else should get dragged into this breach of privacy, but they’re relentless until their voices are heard and half of the flashing cameras turn in their direction. This story is getting juicier and juicier for them by the minute.