CHAPTER 10. Connor #2
I move to the sink and splash cold water over my face. In the mirror, I look worse than I expected—cheeks flushed, eyes too bright, hair mussed from dragging my hands through it. I look like a man who has no idea what to do with himself, which is inconveniently accurate.
How did this happen? How did I go from agreeing to one simple favor to hiding in a bathroom at a lake house, fighting back something that feels dangerously close to tears?
I’m not the crying type. I haven’t cried since my father’s funeral, and that was years ago.
But something about this weekend—about Noah—has got under my skin in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
A soft knock on the door makes me jolt.
“Connor?” Maya says from the hallway. “I know you’re in there.”
I freeze, water dripping from my chin.
“Just a minute,” I call back, then quickly dry my face with one of the clean hand towels folded in a wicker basket.
I take a breath, pull myself together as much as I can, and open the door. Maya stands in the hallway with her arms crossed, her expression impossible to read.
“We need to talk,” she says.
I step aside. It feels ridiculous, letting Noah’s sister into a bathroom for a serious conversation, but it’s still better than having this out in the hall.
Maya closes the door behind her, then turns to face me, her eyes—so much like Noah’s—searching my face.
“Okay,” she says, without preamble. “Tell me what the fuck is really going on.”
For a moment, I just look at her, not sure what she means. Then I shrug.
“Nothing,” I say, even though my face probably says the exact opposite. “Noah already told you everything.”
Maya studies me for a long moment, her head tilted slightly. Then she purses her lips.
“Connor.”
“What?”
She arches an eyebrow, like she knows I’m full of shit and is waiting to see how long I’ll keep going.
“There’s nothing else to tell,” I say, folding my arms across my chest, though it only makes me feel more defensive.
“Yeah, right,” Maya says, looking up at me. “Then why have both of you looked miserable all night?”
Even though I’m twice her size, I suddenly feel like I’m back in high school, being scolded by my favorite English teacher.
“I don’t know,” I say, then quickly add, “We’re not miserable. We just…”
My voice fades, because I have nothing else. I am fucking miserable. Noah is harder to read. Angry, definitely. Miserable? I can’t tell anymore.
Maya gives me another one of those long, focused looks that makes me feel like she’s trying to burn a hole straight through me.
For the last twenty-four hours, I had her filed away as the laugh-and-create-chaos type, not someone who could ambush me in a bathroom and cut straight through my bullshit.
I sigh and shrug again.
“Noah’s just mad at me because I overdid it with the fake-boyfriend part,” I say. “But you heard that already.”
She keeps staring at me, and honestly, it’s starting to make me uncomfortable.
“What?” I say.
That’s when she blurts, “Are you in love with my brother? For real?”
The question hits me like a punch to the windpipe. It’s so direct and unexpected that I don’t have time to hide my reaction. My face must give me away instantly, because Maya’s eyebrows shoot up.
Oh fuck.
I scramble for a lie, but absolutely nothing comes to mind.
“Oh my God,” she says. “You are.”
“I—” I start, then stop, because what can I say?
That I’ve fallen for Noah in the span of one weekend like an idiot?
That I can’t stand seeing him with Rick?
That I feel sick every time Rick touches him?
That I wish every word I said to his parents about moving in together, getting a dog, building a life was true?
“It’s complicated,” I manage finally.
Maya snorts. “Yeah, no shit.” But her expression softens. “Does he know?”
I shake my head. “There’s nothing to know. It doesn’t really matter.” My voice sounds miserable even to me. “He’s clearly not over Rick.”
Okay. So apparently I’ve just admitted to Noah’s sister that I’m in love with him. And the only thing stopping me from making an even bigger idiot of myself is the fact that Noah is still half in love with Rick.
Jesus Christ.
Then Maya smiles at me, her whole face lighting up.
“Oh my God,” she says. “You have it bad for him.”
“Shut up,” I blurt, suddenly forgetting she’s not my sister and we barely know each other. “Sorry,” I add quickly, but she just keeps smiling at me.
“Listen,” she says after a beat. “Who cares about Rick? He’s obviously an asshole who’s more worried about what his father thinks than about my brother. And Noah clearly likes you.”
I stare at her.
Maya rolls her eyes. “Oh, come on. Why else would he ask you to be his fake boyfriend?”
“Because he was drunk and desperate,” I say, a little too fast.
“Sure,” she says. “And out of all the people in New York he could’ve asked while drunk and desperate, he picked the hot Irish neighbor he’d already mentioned to me at least ten times.”
I blink. “He did?”
“Yup,” Maya says. “Usually while pretending he was just complaining about the noise through the wall.”
That does something stupid to my chest.
“And I don’t even think he realizes how often he did it,” she adds. “Noah is notoriously bad at knowing when he’s obvious.”
That shuts me up for half a second.
I want to believe her. Of course I do. But wanting something badly enough doesn’t make it true. Maybe all the kissing today messed with my head, but tonight has been pretty clear. Noah has been avoiding me all evening, and when he isn’t avoiding me, he’s standing around with his ex.
Thinking he has feelings for me feels dangerously close to wishful thinking.
“I don’t think so,” I say, hating the hopeful little pull in my chest anyway. “Have you seen them tonight? The way he laughs at every stupid thing Rick says?”
Maybe I’m exaggerating. Maybe I’m seeing exactly what I’m afraid of seeing. But there’s no way Noah is over him. Not really.
Maya’s expression shifts, not quite softening, but losing some of its bite.
“Well, based on what I learned tonight, Noah spent three years making himself smaller so Rick wouldn’t have to feel uncomfortable.
So yeah, of course he knows how to stand next to him and smile when he doesn’t know what else to do. ”
I look at her.
“That doesn’t mean he wants him back,” she clarifies, in case I’m too stupid to get there myself.
The words do something uncomfortable to my chest. Not because I suddenly believe them, but because I want to.
Maya punches me lightly in the shoulder. “You won’t know unless you talk to him, dummy. Tell him how you feel.”
I snort. “Right. Because this weekend definitely needs more awkwardness.”
“I didn’t peg you for a chicken, Connor.” She gives me a flat look. “Fine. Talk to him after dinner if you don’t want to make a scene. And if it goes badly, you can leave tomorrow morning before he even wakes up.”
I know she’s probably joking, but the thought of saying something tonight sends a strange rush through me. Fear, mostly. But not only fear.
“I’m serious,” she says, crossing her arms. “Noah is terrible at saying what he feels. That’s basically why you’re both in this mess.”
I nod, but then the full weight of what I’ve just admitted catches up with me. Maya knows. She knows, and she’s Noah’s sister, and if she says one wrong thing to him before I get my head straight, I’m fucked.
“Maya, you can’t tell him,” I say quickly. “Any of this.”
“I won’t,” she says, giving me another stern look. “Because you’re going to tell him yourself.” She turns toward the door.
“Maya—”
She stops with her hand on the knob and looks back at me.
I swallow, suddenly feeling ridiculous for needing Noah’s sister to talk me into being honest. “Thank you.”
For a second, she just looks at me. Then her expression softens.
“You’re welcome,” she says. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think this is as one-sided as you think.”
I don’t know what to do with that, so I only nod.
She opens the door, then pauses.
“And Connor?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t decide how this ends before Noah gets a say.”
Then she slips out, and I just stand there with my pulse still racing, left with one unavoidable fact.
I have to talk to Noah.
***
It’s half past two by the time Noah and I finally leave the party. Brad and Maria have already headed back to the West Cottage, Rick and Cassidy left a few minutes ago, and Maya has disappeared upstairs, leaving Caroline and Daniel to see us off.
My head is swimming from too much whiskey with Daniel and Brad, who kept insisting I try another pour, comparing notes like it was some kind of science experiment. I lost count somewhere after the seventh pour. After that, it was easier to let the alcohol blur everything I didn’t want to feel.
Noah hasn’t said a single word to me all night.
Not when I came back downstairs after Maya cornered me in the bathroom.
Not when I sat across from him at the card table, trying to catch his eye.
Not when Daniel suggested charades, and Noah made a point of partnering with Maya instead of me, his supposed boyfriend.
So I drank. And drank. And drank some more, until the sting of his silence dulled into an ache I could almost manage.
Now we’re saying goodnight, and Caroline and Daniel both hug me with a warmth that makes guilt twist in my stomach. They like me, these people who barely know me, and all of it is based on a lie that’s falling apart right in front of them.
“We’ll see you for breakfast,” Caroline says, smoothing my collar with maternal affection. “Not too early, though. Sleep in a bit.”
“Thank you for a lovely evening,” I manage, the words only slightly slurred. “And happy birthday again, sir.”
Daniel grins, his own cheeks flushed from whiskey. “Good night, boys.”
The path to our cottage stretches ahead in the moonlight, gravel crunching under my shoes with every step. The night air cools my overheated skin, but it does nothing to clear my head.
I don’t wait for Noah.
I know he doesn’t want me to.