Chapter Seventeen
London
I haven’t been avoiding you, and I’m not mad. I’m just busy.
When I hear the familiar whoosh signaling that my text message has gone through, I shove the phone back into my pocket.
My phone pings and I ignore it, a headache already forming in the back of my head at the thought of another exchange with Noah. I feel guilty knowing that I’m ignoring him when he’s doing everything he can to make the distance between us easier.
I know I shouldn’t be filled with anxiety with every text, and that I should make more of an effort when he calls, but knowing I’ve built a tangled web between us is harder to ignore than I thought. I have no one to blame but myself.
Noah is starting to sense that something is off between us.
What did you think was going to happen, huh? That you’d just waltz off to the club, and Noah would wait by the phone for you? Come on, London. You know it’s only a matter of time before you snap.
I’m terrified of what’ll happen to Noah when I do, and of how uncertain our future seems.
Only a couple of months ago, the world was ours for the taking, and although I hadn’t been able to take the next step, I still imagined it.
I’d seen myself baking cupcakes on weekends while children played at my feet and Noah worked in the backyard.
I’d even envisioned buying a big enough place to give my father his own space.
A whole floor to himself.
Each day I spent at the House of Payne made the dream feel further and further away. Now, whenever I focus, I can’t see a little boy with Noah’s eyes and my hair, and the little girl I picture Noah swinging around no longer has a face.
You’ll have that dream again. You just have to make it through this. Mason has taken enough from you and everyone else. Don’t let him take anything else.
As much as I’d like to blame Mason, I know this isn’t all on him.
He didn’t force me to sign the contract, and as compelling as he is, he didn’t force me to finger myself in the library.
I did all those things, and the shame and guilt of it threatens to pull me under.
Noah and I haven’t been in sync since that night in the library when Mason pushed me to expose myself to see how far I’m willing to go.
I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending it didn’t happen.
It was easier to talk to Noah in the beginning, pretend like nothing had changed between us, and that I was in his arms where I was supposed to be.
But it’s been two months since I signed the contract.
Two months since I gave up my freedom to save my father’s diner, and Noah and I have only grown apart since then.
The hours and days bleed into each other, a blur of spending my waking hours scrubbing and cleaning and my nights tossing and turning, searching for absolution and answers that don’t exist.
I feel guilty for my role in all of it, but I’m also almost relieved.
At least I don’t have to worry about the kind of lies I have to tell Noah to keep up appearances.
I hate myself for the longing and confusion in Noah’s voice when I answer the phone, and I can only hope his new job keeps him busy and distracted enough.
When will you admit to yourself you want him to break up with you? It would make things a hell of a lot easier, and you wouldn’t have to feel guilty for turning your back on him after everything.
I’ve wrestled with that every day for the past eight weeks.
At night, I lay awake missing Noah with a fierceness that surprises me, but in the cold light of day when everything comes rushing back, I question myself and my decisions all over again.
I should be a better person.
I should let him go.
But I’ve never been good at doing what I’m supposed to do.
A muffled moan from the thin walls brings me back to the present, and I realize I’ve been standing in the middle of the room, clutching the rag, for the past few minutes. With a sigh, I return to my tasks, wanting the menial part of my job to erase everything else.
Why can’t it be enough? Why can’t pushing myself every day and returning to my room exhausted be enough to keep the guilt and frustration at bay?
And why can’t I stop thinking about how it feels to be close to Mason?
I’ve hardly seen him in the past two weeks, but every time I hear his voice, the ache in my belly grows.
Whenever I spot him across the room, I can’t breathe.
I hate him for the way he makes me feel, and for making me question what I’ve always known.
Noah and I are supposed to be building a life together, one built on honesty and trust.
Now, because of Mason, I doubt I’ll ever be able to look Noah in the eye again without wanting to come clean about everything.
The idea of confiding in him makes me sick to my stomach.
He is thoughtful, sweet, and incredibly understanding, but I doubt even he would be able to wrap his head around this.
Especially when he offered me an out, and I refused it.
You could’ve let him help you pay off the debt. He was willing, and sure it would’ve taken longer, but he could’ve done it.
I hadn’t wanted that to hang over our heads.
Staying with Noah and building a life with him shouldn’t start with that kind of commitment.
I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself knowing how hard he’d pushed himself for my dad.
Yeah, you’re right. This is the much better alternative, isn’t it?
Why can’t you just admit it? You didn’t accept Noah’s help for the same reason you hadn’t moved in with him yet.
Deep down inside, you wondered if there was more to life, and until Mason came along, you didn’t think it was okay to want it.
Goddamn Mason Payne, his stupid club, his contract, his stormy eyes, and his large, capable hands.
Why can’t I just push it all down and focus on the job?
Try as I might, I can’t seem to bring myself to do it when I know Mason is lurking in the shadows, watching and waiting.
Maybe he’s right about me.
Scowling, I give the table another good scrub and roll my shoulders.
Then I reach under the cleaning cart for a fresh pair of sheets.
I’m wrestling with the pillows when I spot Miss Deveroux through the crack in the open door.
She backs up, gives me a knowing smile, and hurries off again before I can say anything.
I know what she, and everyone else, is thinking.
They all think it’s only a matter of time before I give in to Mason.
Maybe they’re right.
After I’m done with the bed, I storm into the bathroom and snap on a pair of latex gloves.
I’m on my hands and knees scrubbing the floor when my phone buzzes again.
Sighing, I fish it out of my pocket, peer at Noah’s message, and ignore the surge that rises within me.
I pause for a long time, my fingers hovering over the keyboard, and then I shake my head.
Noah can wait until I know what to say.
The longer I spend in the room escaping my thoughts, the more I realize there aren’t enough words in the world to make things right.
Rather than facing Noah, I throw myself into work for the rest of the day.
Once I’m done, I duck into the locker room to change. Miss Deveroux smiles as I walk past, but I can’t return the gesture. Back at the housing complex, I lean outside my door and press my face to the wood for a minute to calm my pounding heart.
Slowly, I shove my key into the lock and twist the knob. A gust of cold wind blows past me, making the hairs on the back of my neck rise. I grope for the switch, and when the light comes on, it illuminates the room in a soft and yellow glow.
It’s the loneliest and most isolating room I’ve ever seen, and the paintings hung up on the yellow walls can’t change that.
I sit on the edge of the bed, link my fingers, and glance around.
I don’t know if I can do this for another ten months, but what’s the alternative?
I have no idea how much longer I can sit here, going through the scenario over and over in my head and hoping for an alternative.
By the time I force myself to my feet, I have a terrible headache.
I try not to let my thoughts drift in the shower, focusing instead on scrubbing my skin raw.
Steam follows me out of the bathroom and into the room as I throw open the closet doors and peer inside.
I settle on a pair of jeans, a dark pullover, and a pair of ballet flats.
After tying back my hair, I glance at myself in the mirror.
I barely recognize my reflection.
Refusing to be alone with my thoughts, I force myself back outside and into the brusque night air. I stand there for a while, close my eyes and just enjoy the peace and quiet. It’s a stark contrast from the hell that is Mercy.
My phone buzzes, and I pull it out, hesitating when I see “Dad” on the caller ID. I quickly go back into my room and let it ring a few more times before I answer.
“Hello?”
“Sweetheart, hi. I was hoping to catch you.” My father’s voice is unusually light and cheery. “How’s your day?”
I run a hand over my face. “I’m not having the best day, but it’s better now. How’s your day been?”
“Those men from the other day came to visit—”
“They didn’t hurt you, did they?”
“No, on the contrary. They were talking about extending my payment plan and giving me a few more months.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God. I thought that—well, never mind. The important thing is you’re okay.”
“I’m not sure what made them change their mind, but the timing is strange, isn’t it?”
I swallow hard. “I don’t know. I’ve been making regular payments, so I guess they must want their money back.”
I’m relieved that of all the problems I’m dealing with, Mason going back on his word isn’t one of them.
I’m not sure what I would do if he had.
I can’t envision crawling back to my dad and Noah with my tail between my legs and nothing to show for it.
This will all be worth it when I make it to the other side.
It has to be.
“Or you’ve struck some kind of deal with them directly. Sweetheart, I know you think you need to solve my problems, but I hope you haven’t done anything you’ll regret.”
I force out a laugh that sounds fake even to me. “Dad, come on. You know I wouldn’t do something like that. I told you I took a job abroad. I know not knowing the details is killing you, but I got in because of an old college friend of mine. You remember, Dinah, right? She’s the one who got me in.”
The lie flows easily, and I sink deeper into despair.
This is what Mason has reduced me to.
He didn’t ask you to lie, did he? You’re doing that on your own. You could’ve just left it vague.
Knowing I was nearby wouldn’t have helped anyone.
Noah and my dad need to believe I’m out of the country, or this won’t work.
“…so she made me an offer I couldn’t refuse,” I finish weakly. “Anyway, how’s the diner going? How is everything else?”
“Noah stopped by today to help me with some repairs,” my father says, a smile in his voice. “He mentioned that things haven’t been great between you two lately.”
“I’ve been busy,” I respond. “I know it’s hard because we’ve gotten used to seeing each other so often, but it’s okay. We’ll be okay.”
“You know, when your mother and I first met, we were inseparable, too.”
I drift closer to the window and look outside. “Yeah, I think you mentioned that.”
“I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, London, but nothing I regret more than driving your mother away. I held on when I shouldn’t have, let go when I didn’t mean to, and most of all, I didn’t know how to open up.”
My ears are ringing. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I can see you making the same mistake with Noah. He’s kind and patient, and he loves you, London, but he won’t wait around for you forever. Don’t make the same mistake I did. Don’t push him away.”
My free hand curls into a fist, and a burst of frustration courses through me. “It’s not the same thing, Dad. Noah and I aren’t you and Mom.”
“No, you aren’t. I’d like to think you’ve learned from my mistakes and that you’re smarter than I am.”
I’m on my feet before I know what I’m doing. “Look, Dad, I know you miss Mom, and I know you regret how some things went down, but I’m not you, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t lecture me about this. You don’t know what Noah and I are going through.”
Opening up to Noah isn’t an option.
“I don’t mean to overstep, but I’ve seen him moping the past few weeks—”
“He seemed fine when I spoke to him,” I say. “Anyway, it’s just a rough patch, Dad. All couples go through it, especially long-distance ones. We’re going to be fine.”
I don’t know if knowing Noah misses me makes things easier or harder.
“London, I—”
“Dad, I have to go,” I interrupt. “I know you mean well. It’s fine. I’ve just had a long day. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
He says something else, but I don’t hear him.
As soon as we hang up, I send Noah a message and throw myself onto the bed. As I lay there, staring at the ceiling with my heart hammering, I let my mind wander.
I always assumed I’d end up with someone like Noah. Someone reliable, dependable, and familiar.
Noah is sweet, kind, and considerate: all the things I should want.
But lately, I wonder if I’ve just convinced myself that I should want someone like him.
I can’t deny the draw of someone powerful like Mason.
A man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to let the world know.
Imagine what it would be like to be with someone like that. Someone single-minded and unapologetic. Someone who will consume you.
I drift off to sleep to thoughts of Mason, the kernel of doubt in my heart growing stronger.