The Best is Yet to Come

Twenty Two: Noah

The sun still hasn't risen when I decide I've had enough tossing and turning for one night and force myself out of bed. The house is quiet; it'll be a miracle if I see Chris up before noon.

It's still too early for me to text Emma, even though that's all I want to do, so instead I change and head out the door for an early morning run.

My sneakers pound into the sidewalk, the air is crisp and cool outside, the sky is dim with morning light. I tuck my phone into my pocket and start on the familiar route towards the park.

Images of last night flash across my mind- the look of surprise on Emma's face when she opened the door to her apartment, the curve of her neck when she pulled her hair back from her face, the pink of her mouth just before I pressed my lips against hers.

If there was an award for 'most self-control during a date' I definitely would have won. It took every ounce of control I had not to take her right there on the couch. And as much as I wanted to, God, I really wanted to, I forced myself to hold back.

Had she been anyone else, I probably wouldn't have thought twice about it but I'm way too protective of the sensitive bond I have with Emma. There's no question in the way I feel about her. I'm more than determined to make us work and something tells me sex on the second date is not the way to get there.

No matter how much I wanted to. No one talks about the physical pain that comes with restraining yourself from touching another.

I have to go slow, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to continue to look at her and touch her any chance I could get. It's difficult to be around that girl and not want to touch her.

But it's ok, I smile to myself, she liked it, remembering how breathless she was after our kiss.

The sky begins to fade and change as I continue my workout. Rusty yellow and bright orange paint the sky. The pond is silent as I pass by- even the ducks aren't awake yet. I turn up the volume to my playlist and push through the last few miles.

A flat white box is waiting on my doorstep when I make it back to the apartment. I pick it up, bring it inside with me and rip open the rose colored envelope taped to the package.

Noah,

Here is a suit for you to wear at the charity event on Saturday. I'm sending a car for you at 4pm precisely, so please be ready.

Let me know if you need any alterations.

Kisses,

Mom

Shit. I nearly forgot about the dinner. I still have to call and let my mother know I have no intention of going. I have no interest in sitting in a crowded room with a bunch of rich socialites eating an overpriced salad. It may be the life my mother enjoyed to live, but I can't stand being around people who exude arrogance and avarice.

I open the box and pull aside the tissue paper, revealing a new granite grey suit, a crisp white shirt and black tie. Replacing the cover, I tuck the box under my arm, figuring I might as well keep the suit, anyway. I toss the package onto my bed and lock myself in the bathroom for a shower, avoiding my reality by thinking of someone else.

I decide after breakfast that I've put it off long enough and finally call my mother, silently rehearsing my lines the phone rings.

"Noah, darling," she greets.

"Morning, Mom. Hope it's not too early for you."

"Never too early to hear from you, dear. Did you get the suit? I had Shirly drop it off this morning." Shirly is my mother's assistant, though she's worked for my mother for so long that I view her more like an aunt. 

"Yeah, that's kind of why I'm calling. Chris surprised me yesterday with baseball tickets," I lie, "I'm not going to be able to make it Saturday." I grimace, hoping she won't be too upset.

"Noah, everyone is expecting you to be there. Jackson called yesterday and was delighted to hear that you would be attending. He mentioned some news he needed to share with you." Her voice is high pitched, a clear sign that she's upset. Great.

"Mom, I really don't want to talk to Jackson," I sigh. I'm tired of this conversation already. If I wanted to talk to my brother, I would answer his calls.

"I've been working day and night to make this event perfect. Please, Noah, it wouldn't feel right if you weren't there," she guilts me. I rub my eyes, knowing I'd rather cut off a finger than face my brother but I have a hard time saying no to my mother. You only truly learn the value of a parent after you've lost one. So, to make her happy, I let out a groan.

"Ok" I resign. "You win. But I'm bringing a plus one and she'll need a dress." No way Emma has a formal gown hanging in her closet last minute.

Who knows, maybe with the right company, I might actually be able to enjoy one of my mother's insufferable parties. The thought of Emma curled in my arms as we seat across the dance floor eases some of the knots cemented into my shoulders.

"Oh, thank you!" she squeals, "You're going to have so much fun! Bring her to Amy's shop on South Street. They'll take good care of her there. What name should I put on the dinner placement?"

 "Emma Quinn," I say and mouth a swear when it dawns on me that I probably should've asked her first. Crap. "I have to go, mom. I'll see you Saturday."

"I can't wait! Bye-bye, now," she concludes and ends the call. I lean my forehead against the wall in defeat and pray that Emma likes dancing.