Chapter Eight
A True Gentleman
I feel sick as I hear the wariness in Noah’s soft-spoken voice. I see it in his eyes, and I can feel it in his body language as he folds his arms across his chest and leans back on the sofa.
He’s never going to trust me again.
With a sinking heart, I realise I’m not going to get the outcome I had hoped for. I’ve truly cocked this up and there’s no going back. I’ve hurt him, which makes me want to crawl under the floorboards and disappear.
But I’ve also hurt myself.
Noah is someone special. He’s not like other guys. He was never about trying to hook up with me and then going our separate ways. Noah saw something in me. In Violet Banfield, exactly as I am, and he wanted to know me, as a person.
He wasn’t looking for something perfect.
Noah was looking for me.
And I shoved it all away.
I fight my natural urge to back out of this. To simply say I’m sorry again, tell him I’ll leave him alone, and flee the scene of my crime.
But as I stare at the profile of this quiet, shy, thoughtful man, I know he deserves better than that.
No matter how much it hurts me to do it, I’m going to give him the apology—and explanation—he deserves.
“I messed up, Noah,” I say, forcing the words out.
His expression remains the same.
I take a breath of air for courage and try to ignore how my hands are shaking in my lap. “You have no idea how long I waged a war with myself over sending you that text on Monday morning,” I confess. “Because I didn’t want to.”
Noah’s eyes widen at that. “What do you mean, ‘didn’t want to?’”
“It was the last thing I wanted,” I say, resisting the urge to claim one of his hands in mine. I anxiously dig my nails into my palms instead, then exhale sharply before speaking again. “I made the mistake of looking up more about you after you left on Sunday.”
A crease appears on the bridge of his nose. “And that changed things?”
“You’re so smart and determined and focused,” I say quietly. “You’ve known what you’ve wanted to be since you were a boy, and you stayed after it and achieved it. And you aren’t even finished! You’ve won the Premier League and Champions League, but you’ve said how you keep setting new goals for yourself. You’ve achieved everything you’ve ever set out to do, Noah. And you’re going to continue to do so.”
He studies me, his eyes pinned to mine as he searches them for meaning. I feel so vulnerable right now, as if he’s seeing straight through me, and I have to fight hard not to turn my gaze away from his.
“What does that have to do with going out with me?” Noah asks, his voice steeped in confusion.
“I told you I didn’t have direction. You seemed to understand it. But when I read how driven you are? About how goal-oriented you are in pursuit of things, how you’ve known your path since you were a little boy? All I could think of is how I would disappoint you once you got to know me and you’d not want to see me anymore.”
There. I said it. Shame floods me and I shift my gaze down to my hands. I can feel him staring at my profile, and my cheeks burn hot in humiliation.
It seems like an eternity before Noah says anything.
“Is that … you mean …” He seems so taken aback, he can’t get the sentence out.
“I felt it would only be a matter of time before you got tired of dating a woman with zero direction,” I confess quietly. “I cancelled our date because I like you too much, Noah. I really like you. And I was afraid you’d get sick of me being so different from you and you could … you could hurt me if I gave you a chance.”
I hear a sharp intake of breath from Noah. My heart pounds against my ribs as I gather the courage to continue. “So instead of telling you my feelings, I thought I would prevent the inevitable and tell you I thought you’d be better as a friend for me instead of a date. I did that because I’m a coward.”
His eyes have never left my profile. I can feel his intense stare and I can’t bear to look at him.
“You’re telling the truth, aren’t you?” he finally asks.
I have to force myself to return his gaze. “You have no idea how long my finger hovered over the send icon on my phone before I sent that text. I didn’t want to do it. And as soon as I did, I felt sick.
“I don’t have any right to ask you to believe me, but I swear to you, everything I’m saying now is the truth,” I continue. “If I could undo everything I’ve done, I would. I would take a chance on you—even knowing I might get hurt, I would. But I can’t change what I did, no matter how much I want to.”
Noah doesn’t speak. I know he’s shocked, but with each second that passes between us, with the only sound I can hear the hammering in my heart, I know he’s not going to be able to forget this. He doesn’t want to go back to where we were in Dorset.
He leans forward and rests his elbows on his thighs, his hands clasped in front of his full lips. Eventually he drops them and shifts his attention to me. “I believe you,” he says simply.
I swallow. At least I have that much. “I’m sorry if I hurt you,” I say. “You have no idea how sorry I am.”
Noah stares deeply into my eyes. I stare back, unblinking, willing him to believe me.
“I believe you,” he says again. “And I accept your apology.”
I feel a measure of relief. Noah understands that I pushed him away not out of lack of interest, but because of fear. “Thank you.”
He doesn’t reply. I bite my lip, hesitating, desperate for him to say something else.
But he doesn’t.
“Thank you for hearing me out,” I finally say. “It was important to me that you know the truth. You’re an incredible man. I’ve never met anyone like you, Noah. And I promise you, the next woman you ask out is not only going to be thrilled and say yes, she’s going to keep her date with you and count down the minutes until it happens.”
I pick up my bag and rise, causing Noah’s head to snap up.
“Again, I’m so sorry for everything.” I gaze into his eyes for the last time. “Please don’t walk me out. I don’t want to take up any more of your time this evening.”
Then I leave. I cut through the quiet bar, sadness lingering over me like a thick, heavy blanket. My heart is like lead inside my chest—heavy and unmoving. Being with Noah tonight only served as a painful reminder of what I am missing. Hell, even him being so protective of me outside of Wisteria House is so telling of the kind of man he would be to date.
I’ve only dated boys before,I realise as I manoeuvre down the long, dark hallway. Dating Noah would have been dating a man.
No, he was more than a mere man. Noah was a true gentleman.
You stupid, stupid, fool,I think, tears stinging the corners of my eyes. How often do you meet a man like Noah? How could you have thrown away an opportunity to go on a date with him?
I move past the flickering sconces on the walls, about to make my way to the top of the stairs when I feel a hand on my elbow, rough fingertips clasping around my skin and bringing me to a stop. I jump in surprise, my heart leaping straight into my throat. I whirl around and then I freeze.
The hand on my arm belongs to Noah Darby.
“Noah,” I gasp. “What are you doing?”
He lets go of my elbow, but his hand finds mine, and before I can think of what to say, he’s leading me back down the hallway. Noah abruptly pulls me into a darkened alcove, and there’s barely enough room for both of us to fit. My heart is racing, and I can hardly breathe as I stare up at him. His hands immediately go to my waist, pinning me against the wood panelling.
“I thought I could let you walk away. I kept telling myself all night I had to protect myself from another rejection. But I can’t do it, Violet. I can’t. I wanted to put my hands on you the second I saw you tonight. I could feel your heat through this dress,” he says, his voice rough, “and it was torture.”
I lick my lips. His brown eyes flick towards my mouth and I instinctively wind my hands around the base of his neck. Noah draws me closer, so my body is flush with his. I can smell the clean citrus scent that kisses his skin, and my pulse hammers in my throat.
“Ask me for another chance, Violet,” he commands huskily. “Ask me.”
I’m becoming dizzy. The way he’s talking to me is the biggest turn-on I’ve ever had in my life.
“Noah, will you take another chance on me?” I manage to ask.
“Do you want me to answer with words or with actions?”
Ooh!
“Action,” I gasp.
And the word has just escaped my lips when Noah’s mouth crashes down onto mine.