Man of My Dreams(52)

I click the button on the key remote and nervously walk over to the truck. Noah comes out, walks around the front of his dark, grey monster and opens the door for me. Chivalry is not dead and this is starting to feel more and more like a date.

“Let me help you up,” he says, putting one bulky hand at my wrist, the other at the base of my back. My choice of backless dress just became convenient.

“Thanks,” I whisper. All of a sudden the brazen woman from the reunion   has lost her nerve.

He returns to the driver’s side and shuts his door. He glances past me at my house, then focuses on his grip of the steering wheel. “Your home is beautiful, Mia. I bet your family is equally beautiful. Perfect...just like you.”

Why does he have to go there? I don’t want to think about responsibilities, loyalty, fidelity. This is the closest I’ll ever get to a date with Noah Matheson. Too bad it’s ten years too late.

“Can you just drive?” I blurt out.

He starts the engine back up and begins to drive. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...”

“No, it’s not you. I’m stuck in my own head. Would you promise not to judge me if I told you something?” I close my eyes in anticipation of his response.

“Of course not. Shoot.”

I try to arrange the words in my head before opening my mouth and making it all come out in a jumble of erratic emotions. “This is all so...how is it possible that something so wrong can feel so right?”

Noah removes his eyes from the road, staring at me. He stays silent as he drives a little further, stopping at the stop sign. He makes a right and pulls over to the curb and puts the car in park. I have just opened up the largest can of worms ever.

Oh God, what did I do?

“Mia, I would never make you do anything you didn’t want to do. I know I’ve been forward tonight and you...”

“I know,” I hide my eyes with my hands, completely embarrassed for being so forward myself, “I’m sorry, Noah. I didn’t mean to lead you on. It’s just that my husband is away on business for a month. We were separated for a few months before that because of what he did. I’ve always had this crazy crush on you and seeing you, the whole reunion  , the flirting...it all just came to a head.” Perfect! Now I have diarrhea of the mouth.

“Wait. Take a step back. What do mean ‘because of what he did’?” An adorable look of concern washes over his face.

“You don’t want to hear about all of this. A housewife’s tale of sorrow. Things are better now anyway so forget I said anything.” I try to push aside the contents that I let escape out of Pandora’s Box.

“Bull. You wouldn’t be here if things were better now. I may have been a jock, but I’m not dumb. You can tell me. I promise you can trust me.”

It’s funny because even though it’s been years since our last encounter, I do feel like I can trust him. I take a deep breath and without an ounce of trepidation I start to confess to my high school crush all about the problems I’m facing with my husband...parked on a corner two blocks away from my home with said husband.

“What an asshole!” he shakes his head, turning up the volume when his eyes light up with recognition of the song. It’s tuned to the ‘90s station...how appropriate. And I want to sink in my seat at the sound of Kiss the Rain. Are the gods of romantic, mood-setting music trying to tell me something?

“Seriously, Mia. I can’t believe anyone would be so stupid as to take you for granted. Although come to think of it, that’s exactly what I did ten years ago.”

“What do you mean?” I’m lost in the song. Lost in the moment.

“If I would have made a move that night at The Room, the night we were both back from college, maybe you wouldn’t be going through all of this right now. Who knows? It could have been you and me living in that house, raising two kids. And I certainly wouldn’t need some chick at a bar to remind me of what I had.”

Wow, this rugged man wears his heart on his sleeve. Who the hell woulda thunk it? And is it just me or is every other word in this song kiss? Subliminal messages please go away.

“Noah, I-I don’t even know what to say. This night has been...maybe you should just take me home?” It’s the last thing I want, but I am terrified of what I might do if he doesn’t.

“If that’s what you really want, just say the word.” He swallows hard, lowering his head. He’s clearly disappointed.

The angel on my shoulder is telling me to go home, the devil on the other—the one with the sexy, evil grin that I have ignored most of my life—is telling me to live it up for one night. Even if I don’t end the night here, I can still hold my ground and do the right thing.