Chapter 41
I have no idea where Noah ended up the rest of the day. All of my text messages have gone undelivered—unread, which means he turned off his phone.
Lily screamed when I told her the news about Rachel wanting to sign me for representation.
“I told you it was a good book,” she’d shouted when she pulled me to her.
A month ago that would have been all I needed. She would have run to Mrs. Packer’s store, bought a brownie, and we would have celebrated. Now, it loses its brightness knowing I want this celebration with Noah—but he’s not around.
Sitting on my back porch sipping wine, alone, I watch the stars twinkle in the dark sky and I wonder what is really in store for me?
Will this be the first of many times I celebrate good news alone?
Will it someday be as unimpressive as Noah makes it seem?
I can’t imagine that, but how do I know?
It means nothing to him to be a bestseller on the most prestigious list or to have movie deals.
Seriously, is this what’s coming, or is this a pipe dream?
Will Rachel fail at getting my book in front of anyone who matters?
Julia’s eyes are wide when I walk into the store through the coffee shop with a Pack-a-Punch cup in my hand. Wednesdays are my late starts, but I’m here at open.
“We’re covered. You don’t have to be here,” she says as I walk toward my office, my sunglasses covering the puffy eyes I’m rocking this morning. Besides not sleeping all night, I drank most of the bottle of wine I’d opened, oh, and I’ve been crying. You know, your average pity party.
“I’m better off here,” I say walking past her and into my office.
The light is off, not that I expected anything different.
Until three weeks ago, the light was always off when I walked into my office. No one else went into the space that I kept for myself.
I close the door, still without noise, and turn on the light.
Since Noah had been working from my house or the hotel for the past few days, the office is empty of him—except a coffee mug that never got walked to the back room.
Turning on my computer, I watch my manuscript come into focus.
I’ve worked so many hours on this story.
As my life changed, the story changed. As men came and went in my life—those who were good and those who broke my heart—the story changed.
And now, because of a man I’ve fallen for, this story will get to be seen.
I know for a fact that if I give it too much thought, I’ll back out. Imposter syndrome is a real thing, especially in this uncharted territory I’m currently in.
I need to close out of this program and not touch this book again until I work with Rachel, or I’ll change it completely, because my story has changed again.
Saving the draft on my screen, I close down the program and open my emails.
Rachel has sent me a list of potential times to work together this week, as she coordinated times with Katie.
The thought makes me smile. Sure, I was going to be everywhere and involved with the event, and I was feeling mighty special.
But now that they are making time for me, me!
, I wonder if this is how it feels to be one of the authors there here to celebrate.
I can’t imagine that I’ll ever be as calm about it as Noah is. I don’t ever want to be that calm about it. I also don’t want to be as demanding as Sylvia.
Picking up the mug he left on the desk, I stand and walk out of the office and to the back of the store to wash it. It’s funny that washing the rim where Noah’s lips touched makes me miss him more.
“Hey,” his voice comes from behind me and I nearly drop the mug into the sink.
Once I compose myself, I turn to face him.
He’s standing in the doorway, leaned in the casual way he does that makes everything in me go hot.
“Hey,” I say back, then reach for a towel to dry off the mug.
Noah steps into the room, closes the door behind him, and moves to me. Quickly I set the mug and the towel to the side.
He doesn’t kiss me, but he comes right to me and rests his forehead to mine and his hands rest on my hips. For a long moment we’re silent just taking in air that stirs around us.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his eyes closed and his forehead still pressed to mine.
My hands grip the counter behind me. I’m afraid to touch him. I’m actually afraid I’ll push him away.
“Why are you sorry?” I ask, my voice unsteady.
Noah draws in a deep breath, but still doesn’t move. “I handled that poorly.”
Yes he did.
Now he eases back to look into my eyes, still, I don’t touch him.
“I didn’t expect them, and it threw me off. Last night my sister-in-law commented about my reaction and it was then I realized what I’d done.”
“You don’t owe me anything. I know this is temporary,” I say, but my voice cracks and my words have him easing back from me further.
“It’s not.”
“C’mon, Noah. We’re grown adults, we can handle this. We can have sex and go on.” I slip from beneath him and move about the small room, stacking books onto piles that are already counted out on the table. “I don’t need you. You don’t need me.”
He runs his hand over his face and I wonder if he’s even slept.
“You don’t believe that do you?” he asks.
I put the books I’ve stacked back on their original stacks, realizing that I’m messing up more than just this relationship.
“You’re in love with your wife,” I blurt out the words and they sting as much on the air as they did in my heart.
Noah blinks hard. “Of course I’m in love with my wife. But I have to remind you, she died. She’s not here.”
“But you can’t let go.”
“Am I supposed to?” His voice rises. “It’s not the same as if she ran off with some man and got pregnant.”
Now his words are sharp and I know they were meant to sting and they do, but I deserve it.
“I’m sorry,” he says pressing his fingers to his eyes. “It just threw me off having them here. But they’re my family. They still keep me as part of their family. Abby is always going to be part of my story. I can’t change that, Emma. And it doesn’t stop me from loving you.”
My jaw goes slack and I’m having a very hard time breathing.
“Don’t say that,” I say, but my words are shaky with tears.
“I mean it,” he says as he walks toward me. “I’m not going to just suck this up and decide it was a mistake. It wasn’t. I haven’t felt alive since Abby died, but you’ve given me back purpose. You’ve made me feel again. You’ve made me work again. You’ve made me see again.”
Noah reaches for my hand and pulls me to him.
“I didn’t reach out last night because I didn’t know how. I know what I did to you yesterday, and I’m embarrassed. I should have held your hand and told them who you are to me. I just didn’t know how. But they know.”
“You’re not cheating on her,” I say on a wet sob.
“I know that. They know that. They want to meet you again.”
“Maybe we should?—”
“Meet them,” he interrupts. “They’re very excited to know another author.” He smiles and I find it hard not to do the same.
“You talked to Rachel?”
He nods. “She has big plans for your book and I think she can do it. It’ll be something new for both of you.”
“What if I can’t do what she needs me to do? What if I fail?”
“What if you don’t?”
Again he presses his forehead to mine. “Next year this event is in New York. You can stay at my place,” he offers.
“Who says I’ll be there?”
“I do. I know talent when I see it—steal it—show it to an agent,” he says and I laugh as he wraps his arms around me.