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“Don’t we need to go?” I ask.
“Just around the block.”
Dad’s already in the back seat, holding his hand out to Mom. “Come on, dear.”
“You sure?” Mom asks Noah.
“Yes.”
She gets in.
I kiss Noah on the cheek. “Thank you for this.”
“My pleasure.” He helps me in, and we drive.
Dad talks the whole time we’re in the car:Oh, these seats. I could sleep in here. Are they heated? What is that? A refrigerator? Is that a minibar? How many stations that TV get?
Noah remains polite and answers all his questions. Dad has a great time.
The car pulls back in front of my parents’ house and stops. The driver gets out, and Mom begins to cry. “I’m going to miss you.”
“I’m going to miss you, too, Mom.”
Me, Mom, and Dad hug and kiss while the driver stands on the walk holding the door open.
“Guess we better let you go,” Dad says.
“You better,” I answer.
“Any time you want to visit, let me know,” Noah says. “I’ll send the plane, and maybe Ryder will let us borrow the car to take you to the airport.”
“You think?” Dad says.
“I know,” Noah answers.
Dad beams. “That would be great.”
“Bye, Dad.” I push his shoulder.
“Bye, dear,” he answers and kisses my cheek.
He slides out of the back seat while Mom and I kiss one last time, and then she follows him.
We wave, and the driver closes the door and scurries around the front and gets in. Looks at Noah in the rearview.
“Airport,” Noah says.
“Yes, sir.” He starts the car, puts it in gear, and we’re off.
“Your parents are nice.”
“Yeah, they are.” I snuggle next to him. “Thanks for everything. Dad’s probably already on the phone calling everyone he knows, telling them about the car.”
“Glad he had fun.”
I rest my head against his shoulder and take his hand, stroke the back of it. “Thanks for coming for me.”
He kisses the top of my head. “I’ll always come for you. I love you.”
