walked inside with her suitcase. When she turned around, Noah stood in the hall about thirty feet away. “Don’t leave me, Libby. Please.”
“Wrong answer,” she whispered. But damned if she knew what the right one was.
Then the elevator doors closed, Noah’s pain-stricken face disappearing behind it, and she felt more alone than she ever had in her life.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The elevator doors closed and Noah felt the bottom of his world drop out—the sucking void threatening to swallow him whole. Did he run after her? Did he let her go?
You don’t deserve her, the little voice in his head told him. You don’t deserve to win her back. This was how it was always going to end.
Somehow he found himself back in their room. The bed was made. The used towels replaced. All evidence of her was gone.
It was as though the last few days—the absolute best days of his life—had never happened.
He wasn’t sure he could go on without her.
What the fuck did he do?
Part of him was devastated that she thought the worst of him. He wanted to be angry that she didn’t trust him, but how could he blame her? She was right. He’d never told her about quitting. How had she even found out?
What did it matter?
She knew he’d kept something huge from her, so why wouldn’t she think he was cheating? The kicker was that he’d closed the deal. Scott jumped on board as soon as he listened to Noah’s spiel. Turned out the competition had flaked out anyway. Tiffany had ordered a room service lunch for her and Scott, and to celebrate, they’d opened a bottle of champagne. And then, much to Noah’s misfortune, Libby had arrived at the exact moment Scott was in the bathroom.
Would she have been this upset if she’d seen him? Maybe not, but he’d still kept the job situation from her.
The phone in his pocket vibrated and he pulled it out, praying it was Libby calling to tell him she’d changed her mind.
It was Tiffany.
“Noah, did you get the misunderstanding resolved?”
“No,” he said, his voice breaking.
“Would it help if I called her and explained?”
Would it? He shook his head even if she couldn’t see it. “No. I think it would make things worse.”
“I’m so sorry. I should never have called your room.”
He wanted to be angry with her, but he just couldn’t find the energy.
“Let me do something, Noah. Tell me what to do.”
“There’s nothing to do.”
“She probably just needs time to calm down. Then you can work it out.”
He wasn’t so sure that was possible. That look on her face . . .
“Well, congrats on the deal.”
“Thanks.” But now it was all for nothing. He’d mostly done it for Libby . . . and now she was gone. He knew he should be happy to have helped the business, but he couldn’t muster much emotion for that either.
He considered leaving—he’d found a flight to Seattle for that night—but what if she changed her mind and came back? So he didn’t leave the room for the rest of the night. He found her wedding dress in the closet, puddled on the floor. Hope rushed through him. She loved the dress. Maybe she’d come back for it.
He ordered room service in the evening and steadily drank all the bottles in the mini bar. By three a.m., he knew it was hopeless and passed out on the bed. When he awoke, she was the first thing on his mind. The wedding dress wasn’t next to him on the bed where he’d left it.
Had she come back?
He bolted upright and looked around the room, but the only thing he saw was the room service tray and half a dozen empty mini bottles of alcohol. The dress lay on the floor. He must have kicked it off in his sleep.
Libby was really gone.
He was back in Seattle by mid-afternoon and he headed straight to the office. Josh was sitting at his desk when Noah walked in.
Josh looked up in surprise, a grin spreading across his face. “What are you doing here? I didn’t expect to see you for at least a few days.” His gaze took in Noah’s rumpled clothes and his smile faded. “Why do you look like death warmed over?”
Noah ignored him and tossed a file on his desk. “The Abrahams deal. Signed, sealed, and delivered.”
Josh sat upright and his eyes widened as he opened the folder. “How’d you pull this off?”
“What the hell does it matter? It’s all there. The payment