Treat You Better (The Family Stone Book 3)

by Brooke St. James

  "It's not like that," I said, making a face at her. "He's too old for me. We just talked about sushi."

  "Not Carl," she said, still glancing around cautiously. "His wife is alive. The woman from the story. Noah's wife. She died in an accident. Some kind of tragic accident doing a dangerous sport—parasailing or hang gliding or something like that. I think she like jumped off a building or a cliff or something like that. I couldn't find a straight answer, but what I gathered was that it was some kind of adrenaline-sport accident."

  In those seconds, sadness and relief were at war with each other in my mind. I was mostly sad for him and shocked and even in disbelief, but there was a small percentage of my brain that felt relieved.

  "How do you even know that?" I asked.

  "Because I Googled her just now. Noah said her name when he was telling that dog story. Sadie. Sadie Case. I Googled it while you and Carl were chattin' it up. I know it was her because there were pictures of her and Noah together."

  "Maybe it was fake news," I said. "According to the internet, Adam Sandler's dead, too."

  Marisol shook her head, looking unconvinced. "I saw the obituary and everything. He never said in his story that she was still alive."

  I gave her a glare. "No one ever says that in a story. It's not something you specify."

  She shrugged. "All I'm saying is that she died."

  "Well, maybe she did. I'll probably never know. It's not like I'm going to come out and ask him."

  Marisol shrugged. "If he mentions her again, I'm sure somebody will. It'll probably be Willow."

  I glanced over my shoulder to the back of the room. Noah was currently talking to Willow. Willow was grinning from ear to ear—utterly charmed while Noah pointed at something on her station. I wanted to get out my phone and search his name for myself, but I didn't. I looked at Marisol who rolled her eyes in reference to Willow's giggles.

  It took about another hour or so for Noah to finally make his way to the front of the class. He consulted with Brendan before me, and I got nervous, knowing I was the next in line.

  Before long, Noah finished at Brendan's station and began rolling his chair over to mine. I caught his scent before I even looked up and made eye contact. I smelled metal because everything always smelled like metal around here. But there was something also soft and natural about how he smelled that reminded me of leather.

  I smiled at him and he returned it, gesturing to his own rolling chair. "You mind if I come over?" he asked.

  "By all means," I said.

  I cringed at myself for saying that, but I held the smile, not letting on how nervous I was.

  "So, you've got a pendant and a bracelet here?" he asked, gesturing toward my work station as he settled in next to me.

  "Yeah. I'm pretty happy with the pendant, but I got stuck a little on the bracelet. It didn't quite come out like it was in my head."

  Noah laughed at that. "Story of an artist's life, I guess," he said, causing me to laugh along with him.

  I could feel his attention shift from my work to me, and I slowly let my eyes meet his. He was staring straight at me, and our gazes locked for several long seconds. There were three different colors in his eyes. They were gold with amber-browns and yellows around the edges and greenish near the center. They were absolutely mesmerizing. I stared at the darker, deeper spots, marveling at how detailed and faceted they were. Perhaps the lighting wasn't very good at Whole Foods because I didn't remember his eyes looking like this.

  He was even more gorgeous up close.

  He smiled at me, causing his cheeks to move and his eyes to squint a little. This movement snapped me out of my trance and I noticed he had his hand out to shake mine.

  I was all shaken up.

  I did not hope that the news about his wife was true, but at the same time, I did wish he was single. I shook his hand, staring blankly at his chest and trying to get my feelings under control.

  "Noah Case," he said, squeezing my hand gently when we made contact.

  "Indie." I said. "Indie."

  I was going to add my last name when I said it the second time, but it felt like I was fishing for him to figure out who I was. I settled for saying Indie twice like a big goober.

  He stared directly at me with a contemplative, searching expression. He scanned my face, taking me in. I felt like I wanted to squirm. He was breathtakingly handsome, and I was all worked up about meeting him again, anyway.

  "I've seen you before," he said, staring at me with curious intensity.

  I let out a tiny, breathless giggle because it was simply overwhelming to have him sitting right beside me, staring at me like that. I glanced downward, unable to decide if I wanted to mention Whole Foods. Obviously, he remembered me, which was great, but I was almost certain the encounter at the grocery store hadn't stuck with him the same way it had with me. I couldn't figure out how to tell him that's where we had met. I settled for pretending to be curious while I studied his face in return.

  "You look familiar, too," I said. "Of course, your dad showed us your photo."

  "Yeah, but I definitely know you from somewhere," he said, shaking his head.

  "Her dad's a famous rock star," Marisol said, hearing our conversation and leaning over to whisper to Noah. "Her dad's super-famous."

  She went back to her work after saying that, and Noah turned to me somewhat stiffly, gazing and me with a hilarious expression that said he wasn't sure whether or not to believe her. He was funny—I could tell. My heart pounded.

  "My dad's a singer in a band," I said. "But that's not where we met. It was Whole Foods. It's been a long time, but I think we met briefly there one time."

  His expression intensified as he studied me, trying desperately to remember.

  "My son dropped a whole bag of oranges," I said. "It was a while back, so I'm not sure if that's even what you're—"

  "The oranges," he said, pointing at me. "I do remember that. Wow, you have a great memory."

  I almost said that his wasn't a face you could really forget, but I figured I had said enough for now.

  "Your boy's name was Leo, wasn't it?"

  His question caused a huge grin to spread across my face. "Yes," I said, feeling utterly delighted that he remembered. "I pictured a little lion sitting in your shopping cart eating oranges that day we met. Does he still like oranges?"

  "Definitely," I said. "That's where I got the idea for my pendant."

  I gestured to the round piece of gold that rested on my station. It was an orange slice that I had carved out of wax and cast in 14 karat gold. I could have put more detail into it if I had made it larger, but our instructor had encouraged us to design something we would want to wear, so it was about the size of a nickel.

  Noah picked it up, staring at it for a few seconds before turning it over in his hand. "This is really nice," he said. "Interesting yet simple. A citrus collection could go over really well here in California."

  "I didn't have plans for a collection, necessarily," I said.

  Noah placed the pendant on my station again before pulling back and regarding me with a casual grin. "What are your plans, exactly, Indie? What would you like to do when you finish your studies?"

  My stomach flipped when he said my name. I started to ask him how he knew it, but then I remembered I had just introduced myself. I could not think straight around this guy.

  "I, uh, I’m still not sure," I said. "I'm having fun with it, but I'm not sure what I want to do moving forward. I'm definitely not like your dad where I want to get a job as a jeweler for a company. I'm not technical like that, obviously. You can see that by my work. I'm not sure what I am, actually. I can think of pieces I'd like to make, but I don't know if I'm really cut out to be a designer, either. I'm not sure," I said, shaking my head at myself. "I'm enjoying being here. I hate to make it seem like I don't like it because I do. I'm just undecided about what I want to do once I finish."

  "It sounds like you need to find a partner who's techn
ical, and you can be the creative force."

  "That's exactly what I wish would happen," I said, feeling relieved that he didn't think it was a silly idea.

  "Do you want to just marry me?" He said the words softly so that no one sitting around us could hear. I was so shocked by them that I let out a goofy, throaty chuckle. It was the stupidest sound I could have possibly made. How else was I supposed to react when he said something like that?

  "I'm just playing," he said, giving me an almost sad half-smile. "It's just that I kind of need one of you in my operation. My wife used to inspire me so much. I really miss that." He paused and gave me another small smile. "A partnership is entirely possible, though, if that's what you feel like you need." He was being extremely sincere, and I could tell by how quietly he spoke that he wasn't trying to let everyone around us hear what he was saying.

  "What happened to her?" I asked. I wasn't sure if it was an appropriate question, but I didn't want to just blow past the fact that he once had inspiration and now didn't. It seemed like an okay thing for me to ask with the way he was patiently regarding me.

  "To my wife?"

  I nodded.

  "She passed away two years ago."

  "Oh, gosh, I'm sorry," I whispered. "That must be just… really hard."

  I thought of my own situation with Kai. Countless times, I had told myself it would have been easier if he would have just died instead of hurting and humiliating me the way he did, but really, I thought that out of anger. The truth was that loving someone and then suddenly and tragically losing them would probably be even harder than what I went through. They were both terrible. I was lost in thought, contemplating that when Noah tapped his fingers on the desk. His hand was right in my line of vision, so his movement grabbed my attention. I glanced at him.

  "I'm sorry," he whispered, looking regretful. He was taking my thoughtful expression the wrong way.

  "Don't be sorry," I said. "I'm sorry. I was just thinking about how hard that must have been for you. I loved that story you told about the dogs," I added in an effort to change the subject.

  He gave me a nod and smile. "Thank you," he said. "I had never tried to put into words the feeling I got from that scene, so I probably didn't get it across like I—"

  "It was great," I said. "It's true. I'm guilty of worrying about other people, too, and what you said is so right."

  He smiled. "What band?" he asked.

  "What?"

  "Your dad. You said he was in a band. What band?"

  "Oh, The Kicks."

  Chapter 7

  "The Kicks, Kicks," Noah asked. "Or a cover band?"

  "The real Kicks," I said, nodding a little.

  "Your dad's not Alec Stone, is he?" he asked with a sideways look of disbelief.

  I smiled timidly.

  "Is your dad Alec Stone?"

  I gave him a small nod, and he glanced back and forth from the corners of his eyes. "For real?" he asked, still speaking quietly. He waited for me to answer, and I nodded again.

  "What are you doing here?" he asked. "I mean, no offense. I'm glad you're in the class and everything, but you could have private training with just about any jeweler you choose."

  He regarded me as if waiting for my response, and I just shrugged. I had honestly never thought of trying to seek out private training. My first thought was wondering if he personally offered such a thing.

  "Seriously," he continued, seeing my confusion. "If all you're looking to do is inspire a collection, you could look into having a big name develop a line for you. I'm sure with your connections, you could get Tiffany or Cartier to work with you."

  He was matter-of-fact about it—like he was actually confused as to why I was there at all.

  I wrinkled my nose at him. "Maybe I like being terrible at something," I said. "Maybe I enjoy trying something new—mingling with common folk."

  Thank goodness, he knew I was joking. The corner of his mouth lifted in a slow grin. "You're not terrible," he said.

  "It's okay," I said. "You don't have to flatter me. I know my orange slice looks more like a bike tire."

  He laughed, leaning over my station to take a look at the pendant again. "I wouldn't say it's a bike tire, necessarily… it's definitely more of an orange than a bike tire. But either of them are cool as a necklace, anyway."

  I giggled at him for trying to be nice. "Well, it wasn't exactly what was in my mind when I set out to make it."

  "That happens to all of us," he said. "And it gets better with time. You have to do a ton of them that come out looking nothing like what you imagined before you finally start getting them to look like you intended."

  I sighed and made a silly, impatient face at him. "How many is a ton?"

  He shrugged. "I don't know. I guess that's different for everyone. It took me a year or two to work out the kinks."

  I stared at him. I was tempted to just sit there and gawk—to be swept away by his ruggedly beautiful surfer appearance. But I was here to learn. I had to stay focused.

  "Honestly, I really don't know if I like it enough to put that kind of effort into it."

  "Is this your first class?" he asked. "Maybe you could take another one before giving up on it. You never know when you'll meet an instructor who inspires you."

  "It's my first one," I said. "I started in January."

  "Were you doing anything on your own before then?"

  I shook my head. "Just some research and some sketches—no real experience."

  "So, you've only been at it for a few months?"

  "Five."

  "That's nothing," he said, looking at my pendant again. "This is really good for someone only five months in."

  "Thank you, but I'm just not sure if I like it enough to persevere being terrible at it for too much longer. I'm glad I came and everything, but I don't know that I'm serious enough about making jewelry to keep grinding. I have other things going on. I like the idea of dreaming up a line, but I might just do what you said and try to find some kind of partner. Maybe that's more my speed."

  "What's the other stuff?" he asked. "What else do you have going on?"

  He was so cool and confident that it caused me to lose my concentration. I thought about telling him about my singing venture, but I quickly decided I wouldn't. Besides, no one at school knew about that, and I wanted to keep it that way. I cleared my throat before I spoke.

  "My son. I'm a mom. You know, Leo keeps me busy."

  Noah nodded. "Children have a tendency to do that. Is Leo your only child?"

  "Yes. Do you have kids?"

  "Me? No. We wanted to, but no."

  I felt bad for bringing up what must be a sore subject for him. I felt the urge to let him know I had heartbreak of my own.

  "I was married once, too," I said.

  "To Leo's father, I assume."

  I gave him a nod.

  "But you're not anymore?"

  I shook my head. I felt like I needed to say something to let him know I hadn't been through the same thing he had.

  "He lives in Ventura," I said. "He's got a new life and wife and everything."

  Noah thought about that for a second. I had no idea how he would respond. "Well, I guess you got Leo out of the deal."

  I smiled. "Yeah, I did," I said.

  "Who takes care of him when you come to school?"

  "My mom mostly. He stays with one of my sisters or a babysitter sometimes, but my parents help me quite a bit."

  "Does he have any idea that he's hanging out with Alec Stone?" Noah asked.

  The question made me smile. "No. To Leo, he's just Paw-paw."

  Noah laughed and told me that his sister's kids called his dad Pop. This led us to a conversation about family names which led to other topics. He did look over my project and give me tips and hints about my work, but we talked about all sorts of other things as we worked. He was at my station for a long time—until one of the other students walked up and asked him a question.

  ***


  The two weeks that followed were wonderful.

  They were some of the best days I had experienced in a long time. I woke up early, feeling happy and eager to face each day.

  My divorce had really taken a toll on me, and while I was enjoying the new activities in my life, I had still been missing some element of happiness.

  I liked all of my instructors, but Noah and Carl had a way of communicating that I understood. I had fun with them. I looked forward to going to school every day, and I had made significant progress on my projects. After working with them, I thought maybe I'd get into making some jewelry after all.

  Noah and I were particularly fond of each other.

  He wasn't ashamed to pay me extra attention. He wasn't rude about it, but he wasn't apologetic either. We didn’t flirt with each other, but it was borderline. We got along great, that was for sure. He had a dry, sarcastic sense of humor, and like me, he was jaded about certain things. His outlook on life and his sense of humor had me constantly smiling. We always got each other's jokes—even if we didn't laugh at them, we would look at each other just the right way so it was obvious that we were thinking the same thing.

  Some of my friends in class were jealous of my connection with Noah, but it didn't bother me as much as I thought it would. Maybe, in the past, I would have tried to please them by avoiding Noah a little, but I wasn't prone to do that this time. We weren't doing anything wrong, and I was having way too much fun getting to know him.

  We had touched on some personal topics, but I hadn't told him about Fiona.

  At this very moment, that was an inconvenient fact. I was about to go onstage as my alter ego, and it was just one of those times when I felt like things were going to all fall into place for me. I was having a good hair day. I adored my dress, I loved the songs on my set list, and my voice felt strong. I was mad at myself for not telling Noah about my gig. At least then there would be a possibility that he would come. As it stood, he had no idea I even did this.

  I wanted to tell him several times during the past two weeks, but every time it started to come out of my mouth, I would panic and chicken out. I had access to his email, but I didn't think it would be appropriate for me to randomly email him and tell him that I was performing at Angelo's Piano Bar. I was tempted to do it, even till the last few seconds before I went on stage, but I just couldn't make myself.