Chapter 3 - The First Date He Pretended Wasn't a Date
Noah didn't ask me out.
Technically.
Instead, on Tuesday morning, a black SUV stopped outside the shop.
Paulie entered carrying a coffee.
"For you."
I stared at him.
"What's this?"
"Mr. Moretti."
I looked outside.
Noah was sitting in the SUV.
He raised his coffee cup.
I walked over.
"What do you want?"
"Dinner."
"No."
"Tomorrow?"
"No."
"Thursday?"
"No."
He smiled.
"Friday?"
"I said no."
"Sunday?"
I stared at him.
"You don't understand the word no."
"I understand it perfectly."
"Then why are you still asking?"
"Because you haven't given me the answer I want."
I laughed.
"That's not how rejection works."
"Maybe not for other men."
He leaned closer.
"How about lunch?"
"No."
"Coffee?"
"No."
"Ten minutes."
"No."
"Five?"
"Why are you negotiating?"
"Because I'm persistent."
"You're annoying."
"That too."
I should have walked away.
Instead I asked:
"Why me?"
He became serious.
"I don't know."
That answer surprised me.
He continued.
"I've spent my entire life knowing what I want. Money. Territory. Respect. Control."
"And?"
"And then you walked into my life and somehow I don't know what to do."
My heart skipped.
He smiled slightly.
"That's new for me."
I looked down.
"One coffee."
His eyes brightened.
"Tonight?"
"Coffee. Thirty minutes."
"An hour."
"Forty-five."
"Deal."
That evening, he picked me up.
My father watched from the doorway.
Noah stepped out and opened my door.
"You're wearing blue."
"You noticed?"
"I notice everything about you."
I pretended that didn't affect me.
We went to a quiet restaurant overlooking the Hudson.
I expected expensive food.
Instead, Noah ordered pizza.
I stared.
"What?"
"You're the mafia capo."
"And?"
"I expected steak."
"I like pizza."
"You could've fooled me."
He smiled.
The evening was surprisingly normal.
He told me about his childhood.
His mother had died when he was young.
His father had been cold.
Noah had learned early that kindness was often mistaken for weakness.
"That's why you're so intimidating."
"Maybe."
"Do you enjoy it?"
"No."
I looked at him.
"Then why?"
"Because sometimes fear keeps people alive."
That answer stayed with me.
When dinner ended, he walked me to the car.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"Not asking me about my business."
"I don't care about your business."
He looked pleased.
"What do you care about?"
I hesitated.
"You."
He went completely still.
I realized what I'd said.
"I mean—"
"I know what you mean."
His smile was so gentle that I almost forgot who he was.
He reached for my hand.
He didn't pull.
He simply offered his palm.
I placed my hand in his.
His thumb brushed mine.
"I've been thinking about you all week."
"That's unfortunate."
"Very."
I smiled.
Then he said:
"Can I see you again?"
I looked up.
"Maybe."
"Is that your version of yes?"
"Not yet."
He laughed.
A real laugh.
It changed his entire face.
May you like
I realized then that I wanted to hear it again.
Very badly.
