35. Chapter 35
Chapter 35
Stella
I said the wrong thing. As soon as the words spilled out of me, I knew they were a mistake.
"I'm so relieved. I thought I'd never be able to have sex with a man again. This is such a relief."
He froze up even though it was a warm Savannah Sunday afternoon, and we were having brunch on the porch. He made a Spanish omelet, and I made strawberry smoothies. We'd been eating companionably, and he asked me if I was okay with what happened between us.
"So, what you're saying is that now you can have sex with other people?" he asked, anger simmering through his words.
I didn't mind the caveman routine in bed, but out of it, not so much. "We're not in a relationship, Noah."
"You're wearing my fucking ring, Stella."
Heat ran through me, not the kind that led to orgasms; it was the kind that led to me to throwing something heavy at Noah. "This ring?" I held my hand up. "This whole engagement is a sham, you son a bitch."
"Not for me."
I gaped at him. "What?"
"I put a ring on your finger because I want to be with you. I bought this house because you built it with your fucking hands, and I wanted to live here with you."
I looked at the sapphire and diamond ring, and then at him. "I feel like I'm a special edition version of Gaslight ."
"I'm not gaslighting your ass, Stella." He'd been so calm the past months, but obviously, my " now I can have sex again " comment had riled him, but good.
Was I a little sick in the head that it excited me to see him angry?
"You want to marry me?" I was so sure of his answer that when he said, "Yes," I put a hand on my heart, sure it had stopped.
"You're out of you ever-lovin' mind. I'm leavin' for San Francisco soon."
"You said you'd give our relationship a chance, threatening me that you're gonna run with your tail between your legs from Savannah ain't that."
"I'm not running, you son of a bitch." I stood up, my temper raging inside me. "You drove me out of here. You did. You ruined my fuckin' life. Because of you, most of the country has seen me naked, while I called myself your slut and whore. You decided to hurt an innocent woman to get some version of twisted revenge against her father. And I'm the one who's running with her tail between my legs? Between you and me, Noah, I ain't the coward."
I put my fists on my hips, ready to go a couple of rounds with him.
"You're right, I'm sorry."
The who? The what?
He grinned at my confused look. "You were thinking of punching me, and now you don't know what to do."
"Fuck you, Noah."
"I need some fortification before we can go another round, darlin'. You've emptied my balls for at least the next twelve hours. I need time to recuperate."
I narrowed my eyes at him.
"Let's eat, Sweet."
"I don't feel sweet," I snapped at him.
"Baby, even when you're spitting fire from your eyes, you're sweet."
Argh! That did it. I was a little puddle of panting pleasure at his feet. He knew just what to say and how to say it to make me compliant.
Was he doing it on purpose? Probably. The dickhead was enjoying his hold on me. The truth—one I couldn't deny—was that I was out of control. My emotions were flailing. Sleeping with Noah had felt amazing, and now, the morning after was here, and a part of me hated myself for being such a pathetic fool, while the other was high-fiving me for getting it on.
Also, I'd lied to Noah. I didn't want to have sex with any man; I wanted to have sex with this man.
"What do you want to do today?" Noah asked me like we were a couple and spending a Sunday together was a typical occurrence.
"I want to swim, sit by the pool, and read a book." Subtext, you can do whatever the fuck you want. Hopelessly childish.
"Nope," he chirped. "How do you feel about going sailing?"
I arched an eyebrow in query.
"You mentioned finding peace by the riverside, and I was wondering how peaceful it might be to be on a sailboat on the river."
My heart pointed out that he was doing it again. He was making it so easy to be with him, like breathing or strolling through a beautiful garden.
I wanted to say something snarky. I wanted to be petty and churlish. Instead, I smiled. "That sounds lovely."
There aren't many perfect days in anyone's life, but this day was for me. The river, with its gentle currents and expansive views, had always been a place of solace.
"I didn't know you had a boat," I told him that afternoon, when we boarded a small, sleek sailboat at the Savannah Yacht Club. Slightly upstream from the historic downtown, the yacht club was popular with the Savannah society set.
"It's Royal's," he informed me.
"It's beautiful," I remarked, chuckling. It lived up to its name, Bellezza , which meant beautiful in Italian.
Noah took the helm with confident ease, and the wind caught the sails almost immediately, propelling us smoothly across the water. The quiet swish of the sailboat gliding over the river was hypnotic, and I found myself lost in the rhythm, the stress of the past weeks melting away with each ripple. The city’s historic skyline provided a picturesque backdrop, with church spires and old brick buildings peeking above the verdant tree line.
We didn’t talk much, but still shared much in quiet moments, as we exchanged glances and smiles that spoke volumes.
The air was crisp, filled with the briny scent of the river and the freshness of an early autumn breeze. As we sailed under the expansive Talmadge Memorial Bridge, I felt as if we were navigating not just the river but also the currents of our own evolving relationship.
"Hungry?" Noah asked after we were sailing for a couple of hours.
I smiled, feeling boneless and relaxed. I couldn’t remember a time when I felt this good.
"Maybe." My eyes were closed as I lay on a towel at the bow of the boat, enjoying a refreshing breeze.
"Let's find food."
I opened one eye, and then the other. I looked around. We were nowhere close to the city where we could park the boat by a restaurant.
"Close your eyes, Sweet, and trust me to figure food out," he coaxed.
I smiled at him, took that momentous step I'd been afraid I would never be able to take, and simply said, "I trust you, Noah."