Noah grabs me and pulls me back into his side, “That being said, nobody knows more than I do that she deserves better than me, but for some crazy reason she chose me anyway, and I'd be an idiot to fuck that up. I'm not saying I won't ever be an ass, but let me be clear,” Jay Lincoln surfaces, stepping forward, towering over Jim Bob, who almost cowers back. “These hands,” he lifts one up, “will only give her pleasure, got it?”
Jim Bob crosses his arms, not backing down, “You the reason she wouldn't talk to my daughter for almost a month?”
Noah scratches his scruff, “I think so.”
“You also the reason she's been so feisty lately?”
He shakes his head, “Nope.”
This answer doesn't sit well with Jim Bob and he steps closer, their chests almost hitting.
“That's all her,” Noah continues before Jim Bob can start. “She has a fire inside her, she just had to ignite it.”
“The silent treatment she gave my daughter tore her apart,” Jim Bob informs Noah.
“It'd do the same to me.”
“Been trying to get my baby girl to bring down her walls and give her love for Stevie a chance,” Jim Bobs takes a few steps back. “The only thing that got through to her was our sweet, loving Lilith flipping out on her. So let me ask this again, you the reason Lilith has gained the confidence to speak her mind?”
“I think I might be,” Noah reflectively responds.
Jim Bob gives a small nod of approval, turns to the grill, and hollers out, “Somebody get this boy a beer and a shot of tequila.”
I pat Noah's back, relief loosening the knots that had formed, “Welcome to the family.”
He blows out a puff of air, “Shit, woman. Getting acceptance from the people who love you is going to be the death of me.”
I start dragging him over to meet the rest of the bunch, “Quit being so dramatic.”
The next couple of hours consist of everyone scrutinizing Noah and handing him shots of tequila. He doesn't talk much and deflects all questions back to the other person, avoiding having to really share anything about himself. Nobody seems to notice, all commenting how laid back he is. It's hard not to laugh. Nobody would have said that about Jay.
I catch his eyes roaming the yard in search of something. They land on me with a peaceful, content smile forming on his face. He lifts his beer up to me and I wave before continuing my conversation with Naomi and Stevie.
Noami notices and signals for him to join us.
He slightly stumbles on his way over, happily wrapping an arm around me.
“Noah, come meet my brother and his friends,” Naomi says, leading us over to a group of guys, one of them being Nate.
This should be interesting. I just pray this isn't Naomi stirring up trouble.
“Be nice,” I warn Noah, not sure how his reaction will be to meeting them (really, a particular someone).
He puts a palm to his chest, pretending to be offended, “When have I ever not been?”
He keeps me tucked to his side as we join the group.
Naomi introduces everyone to Noah, who she clearly states is my boyfriend. Stevie and I give each other excited looks of triumph, knowing this is her way of declaring her acceptance and approval. When she starts informing them about our soon-to-be business and how excited she is for us, I know this is also her way of apologizing for interfering before.
All the guys become excited, asking Noah a thousand questions about drifting, eager to learn; especially when he informs them it's popular on motorcycles too.
I give Noami an appreciative smile. She winks at me and continues finding ways to win Noah over with the guys, creating him a fan club.
An all too familiar voice shouts behind us, “Come take a shot with me, Noah!”
I have to break away from Noah to make sure the voice I heard was correct. Sure enough, my dad is sitting at a table holding up two shot glasses. Dad never drinks. A glass or two of beer or wine and that's it. I don't think I have ever seen him drink hard liquor, unless you count margaritas on the enchilada night he does about once a month (I don't; he puts about half a shot in each drink). My eyes go wide and they dart to Jill, who shrugs and gives me a “just go with it” look.
Noah smashes his lips to mine for one hard kiss before making his way to my dad. I notice a drunken sway to his step and it makes me smile gleefully. I know it's weird to be happy your boyfriend's drunk, but for Noah to feel comfortable enough to let loose and relax is huge.
“Babe!” Noah calls out, waving me over, “Get over here.”
My walk has a spring to it from the overwhelming sense of happiness I feel. I reach him at the same time Jim Bob and Rick, my mom's long time boyfriend, come over. Noah wraps his arm around my shoulder and kisses the top of my head.
My dad pours shots for Jim Bob and Rick. I dart another wide-eyed glance to my mom, who also shrugs before continuing her conversation with Jill.
All four men hold up their shot glasses as my dad proclaims, “To Lily and Noah!”
In the background I hear my brothers shout out in unison, “Noah's the shit!”
Both my mom and Jill give them The Mom Glare. They snap their mouths shut and continue talking to some of Noami's cousins. I catch Cody shyly smiling at a girl who looks just as nervous around him while my other brother continues being the center of attention.
My heart has just quadrupled in size from all the people that matter most to me accepting Noah as a part of our lives, but more importantly, accepting Noah as a person and a friend.
Chapter 32
Wednesday, August 20
2:14pm
Noah removes the blindfold from my eyes. I blink for my eyes to adjust to the outside light, looking around at our racetrack, confused as to how this is a surprise.
We've been here every waking moment since we officially became the owners, getting it ready to run as a business (which I must happily report has it's grand opening Labor Day weekend). The classes we are offering are already booked until the end of the year.
There isn't much of “Jay's” money left, having used it all to buy the track and the thousands of repairs and upgrades it needed, but neither of us cares. Noah's excited to earn his money doing something he's passionate about and can feel proud of.
I gesture around me, “I don't understand?”
Noah's rocking on his heels, jittery since we woke up this morning and he took me to brunch, “I have something to show you that I've been secretly working on.”
“When did you have time to do that?” After spending the days working our asses off to get this place ready to open, we usually end up passing out from exhaustion in the main building, where we made one of the offices into a temporary bedroom, not wanting to waste money on rent.
He winks at me, “I have my ways.”
Noah turns me and leads me to the far back where the five car garage is that he and my dad worked on together. My dad never allowed me to go over there, claiming he wanted “bonding” time with Noah.
We go behind the building that faces the desert to the single door. He removes a key from his pocket and hands it to me, motioning for me to unlock it.
I study his face for a moment, but he's not letting himself reveal anything.
Intrigued, I open the door, shocked by what I find.
I step inside, eyes roaming around, taking it all in. It's like I exited the racetrack and entered a subdivision; the inside of this place exactly as you would expect a house to look (minus the furniture). I remove my shoes, wanting to feel the new carpet under my feet. Noah remains a few feet back as I roam the open floor plan, only speaking to let me know one of the doors opens into the garage. Eventually I take the stairs to the second level that was added a few months ago.
The entire upper floor is bedrooms. Three to be exact.
I make my way to the last bedroom and look out the window. It's the only room that has a view of the tracks, the rest view the desert.
“They have the blinds
built in,” Noah informs me, sounding anxious.
I play with the levers, watching the blinds go up and down or open and shut depending on which one you slide. That is really cool.
“That way there's no figuring out what curtains to buy,” he nervously explains.
Wow. He remembers.
“The kitchen already has all the appliances,” I say softly, back still to Noah.
“Yeah, I didn't want you dying of boredom,” he teases.
“The walls are primer,” Noah advertises, hoping to get more of a reaction out of me. “I thought either we could figure out the color together...or I could just do it; I wasn’t sure where you stood on paint.”
My heart and stomach do a flip-flop simultaneously before charging into each other.
“There's no lawn to mow anywhere,” he pursues, still waiting for a response, but I'm speechless. “The windows are double pane and the walls are soundproofed, so cars can't be heard. For, you know...kids...babies sleeping...that kind of thing.”
“You want kids?” I ask, still facing the window, afraid to turn around.
I'm pretty sure I just heard him swallow, “I'm getting there.”
“For me or for you?”
“Both.”
“I'm not in any hurry,” I clarify. “One day, but I'm still young.”
“Good. I'll get there, but I'm not there yet.”
I nod in understanding, hoping he knows that I don't expect him to jump right in from living a solitary life to a family man.
“I know this is unconventional, and I don't expect you to want to raise a family on a racetrack. I just wanted to show you that we can be abnormal and still be a family,” he stops to scrub his scars, something he rarely does anymore. “Fuck,” he mutters, head hung low, his hands finding his hips. “I don't know how to do this.”
“Do what?”
“I'm trying to ask you to marry me and I'm completely messing it up. I'm so fucking nervous,” he confesses, dropping to his bottom. He bends his legs up and loosely hangs his arms over his knees. His chin dips down while he stares at the floor.
“Dammit,” he hisses. “I was almost able to go a whole day without cussing. We're going to have little toddlers waddling around the room saying fuck all the time,” he groans out the last sentence as though he's going to be a father any day now and the stress is finally weighing down on him.
“Yes!” I half sob, half shout.
His head jerks up, not sure what my outburst is about, but his eyes are hopeful.
I fling myself forward and tackle him to his back, raining kisses all over his face, “I want all of it. I want to be your wife. I want to live here. I want to laugh every time you accidentally curse in front of our kids and look like you just committed a felony.” I stop my kisses to meet his eyes, “I want you by my side for the rest of my life.”
A half smile tugs at his mouth, his eyes studying mine, “When?”
I cock my head to the side, not understanding what he's asking.
He goes to peck my lips, but all it does is make me want more and I pull his face in closer, reinforcing how much I want him, how much I need him in a way more than I need air.
He returns my advances by wrapping his hand around my neck, forcing his tongue in deeper, his other arm locking me in place.
He breaks our lips apart just enough to talk, “When can I make you my wife?”
“The sooner the better!” I'm about to erupt with happiness.
He smiles along my lips, “How long do you need to plan a wedding?”
This makes me push back to see his face, “You would have a wedding?” I can't picture him enjoying people staring at him all day, showering him with attention. He'd be miserable.
“For you, I would do anything.” The gruff way he speaks, eyes devouring mine, swallowing me in with the deep love he has for me becomes my undoing.
“You ever been to Vegas?”
His mouth curves into the most breathtaking smile I have ever seen on him or anyone, shining from his entire face, “I may have...”
I match his features and his eyes keep darting to my mouth then back to my eyes, not knowing where to place their attention.
He tucks my hair behind my ear, “You sure?”
I nod up and down so quickly the room spins for a second, “I want my parents and brothers to be there.”
The mammoth smile still hasn't left his face, “Of course.”
“Stevie and Naomi, too,”
“Not a problem. How soon can we go?”
“This weekend.”
His eyebrows shoot up, “Really? What if they can't make it?”
“Trust me, they'll be there.”
He shifts us so I'm underneath him, “So, by the end of this weekend you'll be my wife?”
“And you'll be my husband.”
“I like that. I like that a lot.” He goes to kiss me but stops, turning serious, “But don't women dream about their wedding day? I think I can survive one day if it will make you happy. Shit,” he curses, lifting off me and going back to his previous sitting position with his arms dangling over his knees and his head hung low. “I forgot about a ring. I've completely messed this up.”
“I don't care about a wedding,” I sit up and crawl between his legs, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I also don't care about some silly ring. All I care about is that we were lucky enough to find one another.”
He lifts his head up, mouth twitching, “Can Elvis marry us?”
“Of course, I want this to be classy.”
I can tell by his expression he thinks I'm messing around, but I'm dead serious. I want our wedding day to be full of laughter and memorable moments that we will never forget and be talking about until we take our last breaths. I'm even thinking of letting Stevie buy my dress. It sure as hell won't be classy, but you can bet it will be hot and the sexiest thing I've ever worn. Appealing to my husband is my top priority on my wedding day.
“What else?” Noah urges, voice low and husky in the way he knows drives me crazy.
“I want my brothers to film it all, but Naomi will take the pictures.”
He throws his head back and laughs, “We should get some interesting stuff from them.”
“I want us to get matching bands. No diamonds, no fluff. Just the simple representation that I belong to you and you belong to me.”
“Forever,” Noah affirms, heartfelt and quiet, beginning to undress me.
“Forever,” I confirm, helping him.
And that's just what we do. Elvis marries us in a small, cheesy chapel in Vegas that Saturday afternoon, with my family, Stevie, Naomi, Malik, his wife, and their son in attendance. Arianna and Charlie even show up, along with a timid Hattie, who apparently is now close friends with the two of them. Ben couldn't get away, but sent his private jet for us to use and paid for us all to have our own suites at the Bellagio.
Not having a typical wedding didn't stop my Aunt Lisa from throwing us a huge reception months later. Noah clung to my side the entire time, looking more frightened than if a room full of guns were pointed at him.
For the first time in my life, I don't care that I don't know what the future holds. I look forward to the adventures of the unknown; to Noah and I finding our version of happiness.
Epilogue
Seventeen years later...
Saturday, June 7
2:57pm
I tighten my iron-clawed grip around the cement guardrail, wanting to look away from the track but my eyes refuse; they stay committed to the car that is taking a hairpin too tight. This is why I never watch; my heart can't take it.
The car clears the turn, the back end skirting back and forth. It straightens out and comes to a stop a half-yard away from me. I finally allow myself to breathe.
The first thing I see is my husband popping out of the passenger side door with a shit-eating grin. He sees me standing there and his grin gets bigger at the sight of my pale face and horrified eyes.
“Did you
see that, babe? Our kid's a natural!”
I shake my head in disapproval, ready to tell him how I really feel, but the driver's side door opens and I hear a “hell yeah!”
“Mom, did you see that?” My thirteen year old daughter, Magnolia, hollers at me, standing on the door frame and resting her arms over the roof. All I can see of her petite frame are her bony arms and head that's barely peaking over, helmet still strapped on.
“That was sick, Maggie!” My other thirteen year old (and only) son, Wesley, cheers, jumping over the guardrail to swoop her up into a hug.
“Can we go again, Dad?” Maggie takes off her helmet, giving Noah her best “aren't I just about the cutest thing you've ever seen” look that usually gets her whatever she wants, and not just from her dad.
Maggie's determined to be the best drifter, male or female, across the globe. Although I don't approve, Noah has been letting our kids ride the track since they could reach the pedals, but only if he's in the car with them. Luckily, our little Maggie has only gotten to drive for the past year, having inherited my short height and tiny frame. She also got my big honey-brown colored eyes and her father's dark blond hair, which she always keeps in a ponytail.
I reluctantly have to admit, she is a natural.
“No way, it's my turn!” Malik's second child, Xavier, proclaims, joining the group. He's a year older than our kids and Wes's best friend. He believes that he'll be the best drifter, causing many arguments between he and Maggie. It doesn't help that they are both too hot headed to ever back down.
Maggie and Xavier start verbally insulting the other's skills and justifying why they should get to go for a run. Both their fathers ignore them and start up a conversation of their own.
Malik and Noah have a close relationship. I think it's because Malik “gets” Noah and has never tried to press information out of him, making an easy friendship form between the two.
Besides Malik helping to make our business successful, an added bonus has been his amazing wife, who instantly became the missing fourth member to my friendship with Noami and Stevie. The four of us have a blast together and take a girls night out at least once a month. We have date nights with the six of us all of the time. It's also been great that all our kids are close, spending almost every waking moment here. It doesn't get much cooler for teens than a racetrack to hang out at.
Marked. Part II: Becoming Noah Baxter Page 19