Noah stood on the porch wearing his navy suit. His bow tie—the apparently endangered bow tie he had wisely secured months earlier—was perfectly straight.
In his hand was a corsage.
When he gave it to me, I examined the greenery tucked among the flowers.
“What is that?”
“Rosemary,” Noah said.
“Why rosemary?”
“The florist said it means remembering.”
He grinned.
“And I remember promises.”
Behind me, Mom made a small sound.
I turned around.
Her eyes were wet.
“Mom?”
She quickly looked away.
Then she said:
“Christina, come upstairs with me.”
“What? Why?”
“Please.”
“Noah’s waiting.”
“I know.”
Something in her voice stopped me from arguing.
I followed her upstairs.
We entered my bedroom.
Mom closed the door.
Then she locked it.
My excitement disappeared instantly.
“You’re scaring me.”
She turned around.
“You can go with Noah. But before you do, I need one promise from you.”
