Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
“You should eat something.” I buttered a slice of toast and pushed it toward him.
He nibbled the crust with a wobbly smile. “Thanks. I’m sorry about—”
“No, no. Don’t apologize.”
“The Remingtons will never ask me back again,” he said in a faraway voice. “Their poor roses.”
“They have people who deal with things like that. I wouldn’t think twice about it.”
“Barf duty. Fun.”
I let him eat in peace for a minute or so. I didn’t want to ask uncomfortable questions, but there really was no way to avoid them.
“Noah?”
“Yeah?”
“Was that him? Was that your dad?”
He met my gaze and nodded. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“About my apparent death?” he snorted derisively. “Don’t be. It happened seven years ago. I should be used to it. I think the champagne and wine didn’t mix well with shock.”
“Yeah, I bet.”
He sipped his coffee thoughtfully. “I suppose I have my answer.”
“What answer?”
“They’re not wondering how I am. They’re not hoping for a reconciliation. It’s really over. And I guess that’s good to know.”
My heart broke for him, but I knew better than to offer platitudes. He was doing his best to reseal old wounds. The last thing he wanted or needed was to discuss his feelings. I turned his attention to the view and insisted on driving to the beach before going home. He wasn’t enthusiastic, but he went along with it.
We held hands on the beach, picked seashells, and counted the sea lions sunbathing on the rocks dotting the shore. We lingered until a breeze kicked up, then finally made our way back to my car and headed south on the 101.
Noah didn’t talk much on the drive. He seemed content to listen to the radio and stare at the traffic. I understood. But not really.
That random photo of his father had released a darkness I wasn’t sure how to address. And by the time I pulled up in front of his condo, my nerves were shot. My stomach ached and my head pounded in my skull as I hefted Noah’s suitcase from the trunk.
The first set of warning bells chimed when he tried to say good-bye at the curb. I shrugged him off and insisted on carrying his luggage upstairs.
I set it on the bright rug in his living room and pulled him into my arms.
Noah rubbed his arms and stepped aside, gnawing his bottom lip. “I tried to warn you about me. I’m a terrible date.”
“Cool it. That was probably poor planning on my part, but I’ll make it up it you. I promise.”
His smile was sad and weary. “You’re a good man. I’m very happy we met.”
Those earlier warning bells were full-blown sirens now.
I ignored them and drew him close. “Me too. Relax. I told you, everything is okay.”
He pushed away again, rubbing his nose on his forearm. “I don’t know about that. I think it’s going to be the way it was supposed to be.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean…life has a funny way of reminding you who you are.” He paused and added, “And who you aren’t.”
“You’re a good man too, Noah.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know about that. I feel hollow. I’ve been here before, you know. I’m okay for short blips, but then reality rears its ugly head and…this is what I’m left with. Just emptiness.”
I braced my hand on the door. “I understand.”
“No, you don’t understand.”
He didn’t raise his voice, he didn’t scream, he didn’t cry. He didn’t have to. The finality in his tone was absolute.
“You’re right,” I rasped. “But I want to understand. Don’t let your parents—”
“This has nothing to do with them. Not really. And even if it did, the damage is already done. I’m…broken.”
“You’re not broken, Noah.”
“I am. I’m a carefully curated façade, Professor. I’m a master at small talk and if you need fashion advice, I’m your man. But don’t ask for more. There’s nothing here for you.” His breath hitched ominously. “I’m no one.”
“You’re mine. That’s something,” I whispered.
His eyes welled.
“I can’t be yours, Thomas. Not in a real way. Not for the long run. I’m not forever material. Look at us. You’re educated and well respected. You haven’t even begun to tap into your excellence. Jesus, you’re gonna be a freaking doctor someday, and I’m still gonna be me. I know that. And what happened last night…that’s always going to be there. I don’t want that to touch you.”
“I can handle myself just fine.”
“You shouldn’t have to handle my shit and yours. That’s not how it should be. I told Stefan the same thing years ago. You do your shit and I’ll deal with mine. You can’t take on my crazy and build an empire. It’s not right, it’s not fair, it’s not—”
“Stefan? Wait.” I held up a hand. “He was with you that night. You denied it. You saved his career.”
Noah scoffed, tightening his jaw. “I only accidentally saved him. I didn’t remember anything.”