Page 30 of The Lipstick Flip

“Stop,” Noah said, but he was laughing. “It’s cute.”

I climbed down from the ladder. I took my coffee. It was—look, I wasn’t proud of it. I wouldn’t even order it myself, not unless I could use the app. But it was really fucking good, and Noah, apparently, had not forgotten my love of unicorn lattes.

After a few sips, still eying the hat, I said, “It is cute.”

“Good,” Noah said, “because I bought you one just like it.” And then—belting it out like he was on Broadway—“Kidding!”

“God Almighty,” I said. “How much coffee have you had?”

“I’m in a good mood,” Noah said, slapping my arm. “It’s a beautiful morning. I got lots of sleep—”

“I can tell.”

He slapped my arm again. “And we’re going to have a great day together.”

Some of the unicorn latte almost went down wrong. I managed to get my airway clear and say, “What?”

“Today’s my day off, silly. Of course I’m going to spend it helping you.”

I took in the hat. The leggings. The Uggs.

“Rude!” Noah said, but he was laughing again.

It was like the night before hadn’t happened. Like I hadn’t had my arm around him while he cried his eyes out.

But all I said was “I didn’t say anything.”

“I know that look, and that look was rude.” Pitching his voice toward the front of the house, he said, “Joe, he’s being rude.”

Joe said, “Do you want me to fight him?”

“How the fuck do you know Joe?” I asked.

“I hired him, didn’t I?” And as though that were some kind of answer for how Noah had a fiftysomething carpenter wrapped around his little finger, Noah spun around—knocking over an empty bucket, a drill, and a box of fasteners in the process—and said, “Help me bring in the tree.”

Which was how I found myself standing on the driveway, staring at Noah’s Mini Cooper, which somehow—impossibly—had a tree strapped to the top of it.

I rubbed my eyes.

“You’re so dramatic,” Noah said.

“What is happening right now?”

“Well, we had to do something with the tree. We cut it down, remember?”

I did remember. I also remembered leaving it there because the guys at the tree farm were going to deliver it to Noah’s condo.

“How did you get this on top of your car?”

“Why do you say that like I couldn’t do it?”

I looked at him. And then, just to make my point, I squeezed his biceps through the hoodie.

“You’re so mean to me!” But he was beaming. “Some guys from my building helped me.”

“What guys?”

“You don’t know them.”