Chapter 27 Noah
Noah
Honor’s fallen asleep next to me in a pool of sunlight, her eyelashes casting long shadows over her cheekbones, and it feels like a miracle.
This past month has taken its toll on her; I know that.
Our relationship is costing her far more than it’s costing me, and though she acts as though she’s handling it, she must be finding it a strain to constantly shuffle her calendar, and eke out stolen hours with me, and lie to those closest to her.
Serena and Rollo are back at school now, and Honor’s made it clear to me that this can’t eat into her after-school time with her kids.
She blew off a work dinner last week to spend a quiet evening at my flat where I cooked for her and made love to her and bathed her before letting her go.
But usually, her evenings are for her kids, and I wouldn’t expect anything less.
So, it’s the mornings that prove the most flexible.
She’s at Good Vibes almost every day; her team at work knows to keep her mornings clear of big external meetings.
She’s certainly putting in the hours with her mum—she sits by that bed for as long as she can every day—but I’m reaping the benefits, too.
Even on the days we can’t slip away to my flat, I get to see her.
And when she’s done being with her mum, she comes downstairs and we sit and work at Good Vibes’ kitchen table together, laptops in front of us, a mug of tea by our sides, and it’s heaven.
The Good Vibes family is tight-knit, our guests’ visitors become regular, much-welcomed parts of that family, and if anyone finds it odd that I’m devoting so much of my time to a certain guest’s famous daughter, no one says a word.
What’s clear is that this thing between us has bloomed beyond just sex (if it was ever just sex, which I doubt) into an intimacy that colours my days golden.
However frenetic our lives are, being together seems to bring Honor the same enormous amount of pleasure it brings me.
And that’s the thing I keep coming back to.
That’s what alleviates my conscience when I torture myself with the sacrifices she’s having to make for me. For us.
She cried on me last week. Jackson was back for a few days between press junkets, and she told me she refused to sleep with her husband.
She picked a fight and told Jackson it was because of the escalating news flow around him and that co-star of his.
It wasn’t. It was because she said she couldn’t face sleeping with two men at the same time, couldn’t get her head around it; it made her feel violated to even think about it.
My relief that she’s not having sex with that philandering dick is matched by guilt that I’ve put her in that position, that she’s having to endure this conflict in her marriage.
Because Jackson’s headlines aren’t the only thing escalating.
From what she says, they’ve agreed a number with Burberry and the contracts for that fragrance campaign, or whatever it’s called, are being drawn up.
All I can do is make this worth her while. It’s what I promised her that first night—that I’d make her life better. And for now, all I can offer her is as much of me as she’ll take.
My love.
Because I do.
I love her.
HONOR
I wake in the most delicious way, floating to the surface, to light and warmth. My limbs are liquid; my mind is air. I have an exquisite impression of peace before my conscious mind can quite identify where I am.
And when I open my eyes, it gets better.
Noah.
There he is, smiling at me from inches away, all warm, bronzed skin and molten eyes, looking as happy and relaxed and well-fucked as I feel. The sensation of warmth I have is his arm around my back, his hairy legs entwined with mine.
‘Hi.’ His smile widens.
‘Hi. Wow, I nodded off there.’
‘You were only out for about twenty minutes. Looks like you needed it.’
‘I did.’ I yawn. ‘Those super-strength orgasms of yours knocked me out.’ My fingers trail through the soft, dark down on his chest. It’s one of the most gorgeous things about him. Beautiful man.
‘Good. I loved watching you sleep. You looked like an angel.’ He pauses. ‘You always look like an angel. There is absolutely nowhere else I’d rather be right now, you know?’
‘How are you still single?’ I stretch indulgently in his arms. ‘Seriously. How in God’s name have you not been snapped up and marched down the aisle by some insatiable bride?’
He smiles bashfully. ‘Well. I wouldn’t classify myself as single just now, exactly.’
‘No?’
‘Nope.’
‘Good.’ I reach across and brush my lips to his—a reward for his reassurance. ‘Have you been single for a while? I wish now I’d paid more attention whenever Elaine mentioned you.’
‘I’m sure she had nothing interesting to say. Poor Mum. I’ve been single for far too long, in her mind.’
‘How long?’
‘Years and years.’
‘What do you do for sex?’ My knuckles brush that trail of hair on his abdomen. Up and down.
‘I find beautiful, unsuspecting married women and seduce them by moonlit swimming pools, with the help of soulful French music and lashings of rosé.’
‘You do, do you?’
‘Yup.’ He looks inordinately pleased with himself.
‘Well, good for you. It worked a treat on me. But seriously. You’d be great in a relationship. And you seem to like sex quite a lot. So where do you get it?’
‘Between us?’ He looks at me from under long, dark eyelashes. ‘I had a thing with Elena for years. Nothing serious. It was just a hangover from our med school days. When she was single and we both had an itch we need to scratch, we’d… hook up.’
‘Elena?’ I sit up on one elbow. Shit. I’ve idly noticed how attractive Elena is, in that abstract way I do with most women, where I mentally give them an Honor Chapman Cosmetics makeover.
But Elena doesn’t need much help. She’s gorgeous, all dewy, olive skin and lush curves and glossy ponytail. She looks great with no makeup at all.
And she’s been sleeping with Noah. For years. She knows how this trail of hair on his stomach feels. She knows what his tongue is capable of. She knows how intense it is to have him move inside her.
Jesus. The stab of jealousy is so visceral, it hits me like nausea.
‘You okay? Come here.’ He pulls me back down and I nestle into him gratefully.
‘I’m jealous.’ I laugh without mirth. ‘So jealous. I know that’s unfair, because you’ve got to deal with the fact that I’m married, but—’
‘Hey. You have no need to be jealous, okay? Nothing’s happened in over a year.’
I exhale. ‘But didn’t you want it to go further? I mean, she’s beautiful.’
‘She is. And a fantastic person, and she’s a great doctor. And if I’m honest, she wanted it to go further. She’s made that clear, more than once. And I’ve made it equally clear I don’t feel that way about her. So there we are.’
Poor Elena, to be besotted by Noah and not to have him reciprocate. It must be agony. And here I am, with this amazing man, unable to give him one hundred percent of myself, no matter how much he deserves it.
‘Don’t you want a family?’ I whisper.
‘Of course I do.’
‘Tell me what you want.’
‘Okay. Don’t laugh. I want’—he sighs—‘family Sundays. I’ve always had this very clear vision: I want walks in Richmond Park on crisp autumn days, then I want to come home and cook a Sunday roast with my gorgeous wife, and stick on Classic FM or Radio 4, and get stuck into a little red while we’re cooking.
Then a family movie with the kids after lunch, and later, once they’re tucked up, I’ll sweep my beautiful wife off to bed and make love to her. ’
His eyes are shining, and as he speaks, a ball of emotion builds and builds and threatens to crush my chest. The jealousy I felt over Elena dissolves, and in its place is an overwhelming sense of loss and want and pain and jealousy over this.
Noah will get to do this with someone, and it won’t be me, and I can’t bear it.
But that’s not his fault, so I push the emotion down.
‘I can’t think of anything nicer. You deserve that. So much.’
‘But you have that already, surely? You and Jackson and the kids? Sometimes, at least?’
‘I suppose so.’ It hits me with clarity that there’s nothing extraordinary about what Noah’s proposing, exactly.
And sure, my family and I do have Sundays like that, when Jackson’s around and we’re not lunching with movie producers and all that other crap.
No, the tantalising thing about the picture Noah has painted is that it’s him in that vision.
Him. And I want to live that Sunday over and over again with him.
Not Jackson, nor anyone else. Just Noah.
I swallow and look away. ‘I wish that could be you and me.’
‘I wish it, too.’ His voice goes very quiet.
‘Look at me. When I think of that image now, the woman in it—my wife—has a face. She’s you.
I close my eyes and imagine my future, and all I see is you.
I love you so much, my darling. I know it’s not fair to say—I realise I’m putting you in a difficult position just by telling you—but I need you to know how I feel. How extraordinary you are.’
At his words, that ball of emotion in my chest balloons and threatens to suffocate me, manifesting as unstoppable tears.
They come on without warning and spill over my nose, down onto my pillow.
Shit. I press my fist against my mouth as I shudder in Noah’s arms, the beauty and pain and shock of his words rendering me incapable of uttering any of my own.
‘Oh, God.’ He presses himself against me and holds me more tightly, winding the blessed heat of his top leg around me. ‘Darling. I’m sorry—I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Shit. Forget I said anything.’
‘No,’ I mumble, sniffing hard. I pull back slightly to look into those glorious brown eyes.
‘Listen to me—those words are amazing. You are amazing. To have you tell me you love me—I feel like the luckiest woman on the planet. And, God, Noah, you have no idea how close I am to saying it back. I want to, so badly. I’m so crazy about you, I can barely hold the words in.
‘But I can’t say them, sweetie. If I say them back, I’m the one who’s not being fair, because I’m not free.
And you deserve everything you just told me about; you deserve a gorgeous family, and a beautiful wife, and so much happiness, and I can’t give you that.
And I wish, so fucking badly, things were different. ’
‘I know. I know you can’t. It’s okay. We’ll be okay.’ He presses his lips to the top of my hair, and I lie there and allow myself to be cocooned in him, comforted by him, even though I’m the one who will inevitably, at some point, have to hurt him.
Two nights later, I spend the evening at Good Vibes.
I’ve had a full-on day at work; I’ve come straight here from the office and haven’t seen the kids since I packed them off to school with Di this morning.
But Elena texted me earlier to say Mum was having a rough day emotionally, so I swing by for a couple of hours.
Things will get tougher when the King’s academic year starts up again later this month and Ally can’t put in as much time here during the day.
With Mum asleep, I stand stiffly and stretch. It’s nine-thirty. Time to get home, shower, and polish off some emails over a glass of wine. Jackson’s away, thank God.
I’ve hardly seen Noah today aside from a quick hi when I arrived. I have no idea if he’s still here. But the door to his office is ajar, and there he is at his desk.
I slink in and shut the door behind me. He shoots up and wraps me in his arms and kisses me, and I collapse into him.
‘I’m so tired,’ I mutter into his neck.
‘Poor baby.’ He rubs my back. ‘You’ve got so much on your plate at the moment. You signed Burberry yet?’
‘Next week, hopefully.’ I’m touched he’s mentioned it, because I feel guilty even bringing it up.
It’s like waving a huge, eight-figure reminder that I’m choosing to commit to my marriage-slash-fucked-up-business-partnership with Jackson over Noah.
We’ve carried on much as usual since his declaration the other day. Neither of us knows what else to do.
‘Well, let’s get you home. Is Di outside?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. You know it’s pissing it down out there?’
‘Is it?’ I’ve been oblivious.
‘Don’t worry. I’ve got you. I’ll see you out.’ He grabs a golf umbrella from a stand by his door, and I tug my trench coat loosely over my shoulders.
In the deserted hallway, Noah kisses me slowly, tenderly on the lips. ‘Good night, my darling. See you tomorrow, maybe?’
I trace a finger over his cupid’s bow. ‘Try keeping me away.’
He tears his gaze from me, and hauls open the heavy front door.
‘Shit. It’s revolting. Wait a sec.’ He edges out onto the top step and opens the umbrella with a flourish, then gestures to me to come out. ‘Careful. It’s slippy.’
I step out to join him.
I tuck my hand through the crook of his arm and beam up at him.
One last fix for the night.
He smiles down at me. Intimately. Lovingly. I drink him in.
And just like that, the surrounding darkness explodes in a blinding burst of camera flashes.