Chapter 12
Noah
“My stomach hurts from laughing so hard.” With her arms wrapped around her middle, she laughs to herself. She finishes her wine and tilts her head so sweetly to the side to watch me. “Why do I feel like you have stories lined up and ready for any situation?”
“Guilty as charged.”
“This comes so easy for you. You’re entertaining and funny. You have a million stories to share. Attractive,” she says with her first roll of the eyes this evening.
“So what you’re saying is I’m the full package?”
A giggle bubbles up, and she leans back, the most relaxed I’ve seen her since the Hamptons, maybe even more than then.
That night wasn’t about this—talking, getting to know each other better, telling stories about dates gone wrong or most embarrassing moments.
That night had a purpose, and I suppose I served it.
It doesn’t feel like the time to ask why she never left me her number or why she sneaked out of the house. It feels good just being here with her. There’s no expectation of afterward, just dinner and great conversation.
“I’m not sure I’m one to ask.”
“I’m teasing . . . kind of.” I chuckle and finish my drink.
We’ve had another round, but with our bellies full, it’s been nice to let off steam from the week without the pressure of clients.
“I owe my storytelling to my family. My brothers are older than me, and if I didn’t come in with something to grab everyone’s attention, it would be easy to get lost in the chatter. ”
“So you were a little brother fighting for his share of attention? Yep,” she says, licking her lips. “I can see that.” She rests her elbow on the table while her hand cups her chin. She’s settled in, ready to spend a few more hours with me. “Are you close to your family?”
“We’re a tight-knit crew. I imagine it could be intimidating for some to join in.
Not because we’re not welcoming. I have two great sisters-in-law who are a part of the family, but more that we’re loud and a bit rambunctious, even now.
” I chuckle again. “I’m fortunate. I know that. My parents have been married forever—”
“Are they happy?”
The question hits me sideways. It’s not one I’ve been asked before or something I’ve had to think about.
My parents are just my parents and have always been there for us.
“They are, always are,” I say. “There have been mentions of my dad working too much in the past, long hours away from the family when I was younger, but that was something my brothers experienced, not me or my little sister.”
“You have a sister, too?”
“Yeah, Marina.” Like my brothers, I feel a sense of pride when talking about her.
For a few years, it was only the two of us since Loch and Harbor had already left the house.
“She’s two years younger than I am. We’ve always had a good relationship.
Not that we don’t get on each other’s nerves because we do, but she’s a good sister to have.
I’m going home to see her in a play on Sunday. ”
She’s invested; her interest hasn’t waned, nor have her eyes left mine. “Pretty name. She’s an actress?”
When I rest my arms on the table, we’re much closer, with only a foot or so separating us. It’s probably the wine or the whiskey that’s given us this chance, but it feels good to be close to her, so I don’t want to waste it. “Why don’t we pause on the Westcotts? I want to hear about you.”
We both sit back to make room when dessert is served. Liv’s eyes widen like she’s just fallen in love. “I could cry from pure joy just looking at this dessert.”
“Maybe that’s how it got its name Crying Chocolate.” I eat a donut while she digs in. I’m not letting her off the hook, though. “Are you an only child?”
“I am. I guess one of me was enough of a handful.”
“What’s the wildest thing you ever did?”
“Sleeping with you.” She takes her first bite and then closes her eyes to savor it. “Mm. So good.”
That confession and her moaning in pleasure shoot straight to my dick. Fuck me. It was all going so well, too. How can I keep things casual when she’s causing a riot inside me?
“Glad I could be of service, but that night—”
“Please, Noah. Don’t take it away from me.”
I’m caught off guard. She’s made it clear that it was a night that should be forgotten since I showed last Monday.
I run a hand through my hair, trying to find my way through the maze that’s Olivia Bancroft.
“I thought . . .” I look so lost in what to think or believe, how to feel about something more than a one-night stand in my memories.
“I don’t know what to say, Liv. You wanted me to quit. Why?”
“The night with you wasn’t me.” She sets her spoon down on the back end of a cringe. “It was me, but it was out of character. I wasn’t thinking. I was acting on instinct. Doing whatever I wanted without thinking about the repercussions.”
“I don’t think so. I think that’s who you really are. That’s the issue. You don’t have a lack of interesting stories. You aren’t a one-dimensional ice queen. You’re more than you let on. I have a feeling I’m the only one who’s seen the real you.”
Her breath collapses in her chest as something else overcomes her. Tears reflect the lights hanging nearby as she tilts her head back to keep them from falling. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“I do.”
I’m hit hard with a glare, but she seems to catch herself. The flash of anger softens as she leans closer to whisper, “We’ve had a good time. Let’s not ruin—” Suddenly looking down at her purse tucked under her leg, she pulls it out and opens it. Her lips part as panic drifts across her expression.
When she looks up again, she says, “I need to go.”
“What? Why?”
She sets her napkin on her chair when she stands. “I’m sorry, Noah.” Grabbing her purse, she tucks it under her arm. “Put it on the card, and I’ll send through the expense, approving it.”
I stand, tossing my napkin to the table. “Is that what you think I’m concerned with? Expensing our dinner? You’ve got it all wrong, Liv—”
“Would you like the check, sir?” the server asks, standing between us.
Handing him a credit card, I say, “Yes, please close it.”
“Was it to your liking?”
I finally turn to him. “It was very good. Thank you.”
“I’ll be right back.” He rushes into the next room, leaving us alone again.
Liv comes closer, touching my arm like we’re old friends. “It’s not personal,” she says. “My friend has food poisoning. I need to check on her.”
“I’ll order a car for you.”
“It’s okay. I’ll catch a cab out front.” She comes closer, our shoes bumping into each other’s. “But I want you to know that I had a good time. I’m sorry I need to leave.”
“I—”
“Here you are, sir.” The server hands me my card and a pen. “Thank you for joining us for dinner tonight.”
“You’re welcome.” I scribble my name, but it’s too late. Liv has already left the table. Dammit.
I make it out to the street to find her standing at the curb with her arm up. “Liv?”
When she turns toward me, tears are sliding down her cheeks. Rushing to her, I take hold of her arm. “Why are you crying?”
“I . . .” A cab pulls to the curb. “I need to go.”
Seeing her upset has my heart beating harder in my chest. I’ll do anything to make her feel better, but how?
I pull the taxi door open and get in the back right after her.
“What are you doing, Noah?”
“I’m not letting you go alone.” I shut the door with her still staring at me.
Opening her mouth twice, I can see her thoughts warring in her eyes. Tugging the seat belt over her shoulder, she shares the address as she buckles in.
As the taxi starts weaving through traffic, I look over at her and ask, “Is your friend okay?”
Her gaze sticks to the window, but the sudden close of her eyes and fall of her head has me concerned. “Liv?”
She looks at me, her eyes taking me in like she’s seeing me for the first time again.
From fear to possibilities flashing through her expression, she’s thoroughly confused me.
“I need to tell you something, Noah.” Her tone is as serious as her eyes when locked on me like a target.
“Something I’ve told very few people, and I need you to promise me that you’ll keep my secret. ”
“Okay.”
“I need to hear you say it.”
For a split second, I think she’ll crack a smile and start laughing, but the tears are still in her eyes, and the intensity of her stare has me believing what she says. “I promise not to tell anyone.”
Relief sinks in, her shoulders easing as she closes her eyes.
I have no idea what to say or if I should be speaking at all.
I think this is a conversation best left for her to lead.
But the cab pulls in front of a building, causing her to lean over me to get a good look at it through my window. “This is me.”
I pay and then get out, offering her a hand. With our palms pressed, a spark ignites between us. It’s not sexual, but a connection that we’re in this together. The taxi peels away, the rubber burning against the concrete.
We move from the smoke by starting for the door. She stops under the awning and glances between the door and me. “This could be the biggest mistake of my life.”
“You can trust me, Liv.” I take her hand and lead her to the door. “I swear on my life.”
She stops just before we enter, her eyes pleading as she fists the sleeve of my jacket. “I’m not sure that’s a promise you can keep.” Her voice trembles as she tries to blink away tears. Her gaze hits my chest when she’s unable to hold mine for any longer.
With her hand latched onto me, I hold her elbow and grasp her other wrist that hangs by her side.
Her reaction to her friend being sick doesn’t match the illness.
“It’s food poisoning. It’s going to suck for twenty-four hours, but after that, she should be fine.
” I pull her into my arms for reassurance because I’m at a loss as to how to comfort her worries for her friend otherwise.
She comes so willingly that now I’m starting to be concerned. Where’s the woman who bit my head off for even existing a few days ago, for disrupting her so-called perfect life, and the one who accused me of trying to ruin her career?
Something is deeply wrong. “Talk to me.”
A sniffle has her vibrating against my chest, and then she whispers, “Please know I tried to tell you.”
Stroking the back of her head, I ask, “Tell me what?”
When she pushes back, putting space between us, her cheeks are stained with red lines where her tears are falling.
The hazel of her eyes is brighter with green under watery lashes.
But the fear that crushes her pretty features concerns me most. I cup her face, breaking the streams on her cheeks with the pads of my thumbs.
“I need you to tell me what’s wrong, Liv. Please.”
She takes hold of my hands and then leads me inside the lobby. “We need to get upstairs.” Her breath shakes as much as her hands, but she walks with purpose. As soon as she punches the button to call the elevator, she looks up at me. “All I ask is that you allow me to explain.”
What the fuck am I walking into? “Explain what?”
“You can hate me, but please don’t hate Maxwell.”
“Who’s Maxwell?”
The elevator opens, and we step inside. She pushes the button for the twelfth floor, then takes a deep breath. “Maxwell is my son.”