“I got off early,” she answered robotically, her stance shifting. “You didn’t say you’re sorry you said it, or that you didn’t mean to say it. You’re just sorry because you didn’t mean for me to hear it.”
I had never seen that expression of hurt on Noah’s face before, and it prompted me to move to within touching distance of her. But she held up her hand and brought me to a halt right in front of her. I didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want me to touch her and that was all I wanted to do.
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop fucking saying that!”
I wasn’t surprised by her shout – she was upset, but she was becoming angry too. That was Noah’s way. She was always upset before she ever got truly angry.
“I can’t believe this,” she said to herself. “I can’t fucking believe this.”
I stared at her like a bloody eejit. I didn’t know what to say, what to do, so I stood there, unmoving, feeling like a clown, as she broke down in front of me.
“Sasanach—”
“Don’t,” she suddenly screamed, and this time I jumped. “Don’t ever call me that again. Ever.”
My lips parted as shock rippled through me at her declaration. I had always called her sasanach as an endearment and she loved it. For her to tell me never to call her it again made fear crawl down the length of my spine.
“Noah.”
She was staring up at me, tears on her face as she breathed heavily. With a shake of her head, she suddenly turned and stormed down the hallway towards our bedroom, with me following her.
“What’re ye doin’?” I shouted after her. “Talk to me, for God’s sake.”
“Like you talked to me?” she snapped, throwing a hand up into the air. “You told Ajax everything that I should have heard first. D’you have any idea how much of a fucking idiot I feel?”
She swung the bedroom door open, not caring when it slammed against the wall. I watched as she grabbed the duffle bag she used when going away for spa weekends with her mother, and my heart just about stopped. She threw it on to the bed, yanked it open, and began to grab random items of clothing and shoved them inside. I was next to her in an instant, grabbing her hands.
“Let me go!” she screamed in dismay. “Elliot, stop it!”
I wasn’t her hurting her, I knew I wasn’t, but I did as she asked.
“I’m leaving.”
“What?” I asked, dumbly. “What did ye just say?”
“What’s the point in us being together?” she shouted at me, throwing her hands up in the air. “Elliot, I thought you were going to propose to me soon.”
I felt my jaw drop. “What the hell would give ye that impression?”
“Other than the fact we’ve been together for seven years? Or that we love each other?”
“Yeah,” I snapped. “Other than those things.”
Her entire body seemed to jolt at my words, like they’d physically hurt her.
“I thought we were ready,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I thought you wanted to make me your wife.”
I couldn’t believe she was saying these things.
“Noah . . .” I ran my hand through my hair. “Just stop for a second. Marryin’ you . . . it’s not something that I can do right now. All of this shite with me parents has really fucked with me head.”
“My parents are still married and in love. Just because your parents didn’t make it doesn’t mean that we can’t.”
I heard what she was saying but the doubt still had hold of my mind.
“I can’t,” I managed to say around the lump in my throat. “I can’t marry ye, Noah. We’re still kids, we have years to get married. Can’t we just stay as we are right now?”
She stepped back from me as tears fell down her cheeks. I reached for her but she recoiled from me, so I let my arm drop numbly back to my side. I didn’t know what to do. In the seven years we’d been together we had never encountered anything like this. We fought, and I’d had to sleep on the sofa a few times, but she’d never packed a bag to get away from me.
“Why isn’t it enough to just be with me?” I asked, clenching my hands into fists. “Why do we hav’te get married?”
“Because I want to be your wife,” she screamed, her voice suddenly a little hoarse. “I wanted