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Noah flicks a glance at his watch. ‘Yeah. A beer. Holly? Champagne?’
I shake my head. ‘Just a water, thank you.’
He nods. ‘And something to eat. I’m starving.’
‘Of course, sir.’
She departs quickly, leaving us alone. There is a whirr, though, as the engines fire to life.
I push aside my misgivings with regard to Noah’s desire not to have children. After all, this is all new and different for both of us. I’m not naïve enough to think I can change his mind, but I do feel like there might be a hundred reasons for this thing to run out of steam. Maybe we’ll just wake up and decide we don’t want each other any more. Maybe this is just an itch I’m scratching. I mean, five years, come on.
I smile brightly at him, refusing to let my tendency to analyse the heck out of everything tarnish this wonderful break from normality. When was the last time I did anything even remotely like this? The answer to that is simple.
Never.
‘So, Mr Moore,’ I purr. ‘Where are we going?’
‘That, Miss Scott-Leigh, awaits to be seen.’
The stewardess appears with a tray. She places our drinks down, then reaches between us to arrange a little armrest-cum-table. She places a bowl of fries and a fruit platter on it, then smiles brusquely and walks away.
‘Is this how you like to wine and dine women, Noah?’ I watch him thoughtfully, pleased that I can ask such a sensible question without sounding jealous or possessive.
‘I don’t wine and dine women,’ he responds seriously.
‘Then what do you call this?’ I gesture to the food.
‘Lunch.’ He grins, reaching for a chip. I watch him eat it, not realising that I’m frowning. He scans my face, though, and I make an effort to relax.
‘Well, I’m starving,’ I say, just to fill the silence.
‘You had an active night,’ he points out, his voice deep.
My cheeks flush pink.
‘And you’re fucking adorable when you blush like that.’
‘I didn’t know I blushed until I met you,’ I say seriously.
He laughs. ‘I’m glad I can bring your blood to the boil.’
‘In more ways than one.’
His phone rings and he lifts it out of his pocket, frowning. ‘I have to take this.’ He unbuckles his seat belt, standing and moving away from me.
Despite the fact he’s on his phone and standing in the middle of the plane, we begin to taxi. Apparently the rules are vastly different for private planes versus commercial, or perhaps Noah Moore was just born to disobey rules.
I think about the conversation we had this morning—about the information he reluctantly gave me. His upbringing was far from conventional, and that would have a huge effect on his development.
As children, we need to feel safe and secure, to have a healthy attachment to someone or something. It governs all our relationships for the rest of our lives—the ability to form natural relationships, relationships that rely on trust and respect. It’s a problem with a lot of kids who come from abusive homes or, yes, end up in foster care.
As children we are taught that, no matter what we do, our parents will still love us.
Noah never had that.
Noah doesn’t do relationships, even now, except his friendship with Gabe Arantini. The roadblocks that were put in place during his childhood continue to shape his personality, his ability to attach.
But there’s something more.
