15. Noelle
Chapter fifteen
Noelle
Five Years Ago . . .
I’d been a fool. But I still had a chance to fix this. I was Noelle Shepherd—according to my family, I could fix anything.
“Here.” Aubrey tucked my newly laundered jeans in my open suitcase.
“Thanks.”
Aubrey and I had been friends since nursing school.
She’d married her husband, Spencer, a few years ago, but she still came over to the apartment Macy and I shared for girls’ night.
I scanned my bedroom, dormant butterflies taking flight in my stomach.
By this time tomorrow, I’d be in Seattle, apologizing to the love of my life.
I’d messed up eight years ago, running away from Cal when I should have tried harder to trust him with my heartache. But I’d learned something since then. I could make this right. Lord, please let him forgive me, even if he can’t still love me.
“Hey, Elle?” Macy popped her head into my room, phone in hand.
“You’re back early,” Aubrey commented from her perch on my bed, sorting through my tops—the precious few that weren’t scrubs. “I thought you weren’t off until four.”
“Umm . . .” Macy shifted uncomfortably, onyx eyes locking on me. “There’s something you need to see.”
I stared at her serious face. Macy was our life-of-the-party friend, outgoing and adventurous. “Who died?”
“No one.” She glanced at Aubrey, bugging her eyes out.
Aubrey wrinkled her nose. “Am I supposed to know what that means?”
Macy motioned her over with exaggerated neck contortions.
Frowning, Aubrey hopped off the bed and studied the phone. I didn’t think it was possible, but her creamy skin actually got paler.
“What’s going on?” I moved towards them, and Macy wordlessly held out the phone.
“Maybe she shouldn’t—” Aubrey protested.
“She needs to know,” Macy said firmly, compassion in her eyes.
What in the world? I scanned the screen. It was a news article from one of the celebrity papers. Utter trash. “Mace, you really shouldn’t read—” A picture popped up as I scrolled, dashing ice water over all my hopes and dreams.
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.
Cal Satterfield . . . and his new wife. They’d married this past weekend in an intimate ceremony. More to follow.
“No, no, no, no,” I whispered.
Cal was married.
Last weekend.
To a gorgeous brunette.
My pulse staccatoed, blood whooshing in my ears. It was too late. I’d lost him for good.
Aubrey grabbed me as my knees buckled. “I’m too late. I . . . I still love him,” I sobbed into her shoulder. “I . . . I . . .”
Her hug held me together as I bit back a scream, my heart shattering into pieces.
He wasn’t mine to love anymore.
The next morning, I tossed all our love letters into a black trash bag.
Every note. Every flower petal. His T-shirt I’d stolen the day I left.
His jersey with his number I still wore when I watched him play.
The bottle of his cologne I’d bought to remember the smell of him and how safe he made me feel.
The remnants of the sweetest part of my life were relegated to the trash heap.
“Are you sure you don’t want to wait?” Macy asked gently.
I glared at her, eyes raw from crying all night. “He’s married. I refuse to be that girl, pining after another woman’s man.”
Macy nodded wisely and said nothing more. An hour later, she took the trash bag out for me when I’d scrubbed away the ashes of what used to be Cal and Noelle Forever.
“Hey, Mace?” I sniffed from my fetal position on our couch.
“Yeah?”
“He’s officially on The List.”
A few years ago we’d implemented something called The List for topics that weren’t up for discussion unless the person blacklisting the topic brought it up first. Namely exes or family drama.
So unless I talked about Cal, my friends couldn’t mention him.
And I had no plans of resurrecting my biggest heartache.
He’d moved on . . . and somehow, I would too.