All at Once

Chapter Seven

"Abi, wait! Please. Where are you even going?"

Noah's voice cut through the quiet that filled the car parking lot outside the back of the venue. The lingering selfie hunters had long since disappeared and, in the cold night air of Paris in February, the solitary tear that escaped my eye left a hot trail across my skin.

Wiping my cheek, I turned to face him as I pulled on my black faux fur coat and hugged it tight around my body.

"Why are you crying?" he asked, taking a couple of strides to close the remaining distance between us.

I didn't know the answer.

"Abi," Noah continued, placing his hands on my shoulders and ducking his head down to my eye level. "I know this is all a bit mental, but you have to believe me that not a day goes by when I don't wish you were here with me."

Sliding his hands around my shoulders he placed them flat on my back and pulled me into his body. His smell enveloped my senses as my face buried into his chest, the same clean masculine scent I'd always known.

"The fact you actually are here now is more than I could have asked for," he continued. The vibration of his voice rattled against my cheek, soothing me in the way only Noah's voice could.

Wiping my nose with the back of hand, I pulled my head away from hos torso and craned my neck to look up at him.

"I just feel as though I'm missing out on this whole part of your life," I said. "It's so hard to watch all this from afar, knowing you're mine but not being able to tell the world."

"It kills me, too," he said, moving one hand to push my windblown fringe to the side. "But I swear, I'm not doing anything bad behind your back. I love you, Wilson."

The sight of his lopsided smile and the dimple that always pierced my heart made it impossible not to smile back.

"I love you too, Nomeo," I whispered.

The warmth of his lips on mine washed away any remaining doubt left in my mind. Noah Hartnett the musician may have belonged to the whole world now, but Noah Hartnett the man was all mine.

"Come on," he said, pulling his face from mine and massaging my scalp with his fingertips. "Let's get out of here."

With one quick call and a thirty second wait, a blinding set of headlights rounded the corner of the building into the parking lot where we stood.

"Your carriage, Mademoiselle," Noah smirked, opening the door of the sleek, black Mercedes that pulled up and ushering me into it.

As I scooted over on the cream leather seats, he bundled in next to me, rubbing his arms to brush off the chill.

Leaning over towards the drivers seat, he cupped the driver's shoulder with a huge grin.

"Bon soir, Christophe," he smiled, "Back to the hotel please."

"No problem, sir," the driver replied, craning his neck around to smile politely in my direction. "And the lady?"

"She's with me," Noah said, squeezing his shoulder with his large palm, before shifting back into the backseat and fastening himself in.

Turning to grab my seatbelt, I began to follow suit before Noah's hand on my knee caused me to look around.

"Sit in the middle," he said quietly, "I want to be able to touch you."

Doing as he said, I slid over into the middle seat and clicked the seatbelt in place over my lap. As the car rolled out of the arena to join the main road, Noah grabbed a black fleece blanket rolled up in the door compartment and flung it across us both, pulling me into his body with one arm.