The Wedding Pact Box Set - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,358

response. When I told you to examine your own life, I meant it was time for you to realize you loved her. I worried if I told you straight out, you’d resist it. So I kept my mouth shut. I’m sorry for that.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “God, I’m sorry for a lot of things, Noah.” His voice cracked when he spoke again. “Can you forgive me?”

Noah stared at him dumbfounded. He had no idea Josh was willing to give up the business if he wasn’t included. He’d spent the majority of his life feeling like he was failing his brother; it never occurred to Noah that Josh felt the same way.

Josh pulled him into a bear hug. “I love you, Noah. You think you don’t deserve happiness, but you are so wrong. And besides, did you ever consider that Libby is probably telling herself the same thing? That you are the happiness she doesn’t think she deserves?”

Noah broke free, panic welling in his chest and making it difficult to breathe. He wanted to be that man for her, but he’d screwed up after less than twenty-four hours of marriage. A zebra couldn’t change its stripes. What made him think he could be any different? “No. I’ll only hurt her in the end. More than I already have, and I can’t live with that.”

He jerked the door open and strode though the office toward the exit.

“Noah! Where are you going?”

He had no idea. He found comfort that he and Josh were mending their relationship, but in less than two weeks, Josh would be gone. Libby had Tortoise to run to, but now that Libby was gone, he had absolutely nothing.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“Libby! Open up,” Megan shouted. She and Blair had been pounding on the front door for several minutes, but Libby couldn’t bring herself to answer. Instead, she kept rubbing the head of her anxious dog. Tortoise—sensing her emotional crisis—had barely left her side in the week she’d been home.

“Libby, I know you’re in there. Please let me in.”

Megan was supposed to be in Seattle, so what was she even doing here? But she’d completely ignored her friends’ phone calls, so she wasn’t totally surprised.

There was more pounding, harder and more insistent this time. “Open the damn door, Libby St. Clair!” Blair shouted. “You live in the damn ghetto and I’m pretty sure I’m about to get shanked.”

“Blair!” Megan protested.

Libby climbed to her feet and moved to the door, Tortoise at her side the entire time. After releasing the deadbolt, she swung the door open, revealing Megan in jeans and a plum peacoat and Blair in her business attire—attaché case and all. This didn’t look like a friendly visit.

Blair’s mouth dropped open, but she quickly shut it and waved her hand in front of her face. “Good God. When was the last time you showered?”

Libby leaned against the doorframe. She couldn’t remember, but she didn’t really care. The yoga pants and T-shirt she was wearing had been intimate companions for several days now. “Go away, Blair.”

“Sorry, Libs.” Blair pushed past her and walked into the house. “This is an intervention.”

Tortoise hunched down next to Libby and released a low growl.

Blair stopped in her tracks. “Your new dog’s really friendly. Is it part pit bull?”

Libby’s shoulders stiffened. “He is a Lab mix. And you just pushed your way into my house. He’s protective.”

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing you have some sort of protection in this neighborhood.”

“What do you want?” Libby asked, already exhausted from this exchange.

Megan followed Blair inside, eyeing the dog. “Libs. We just want to talk to you.”

Ignoring them, Libby bent over and rubbed Tortoise’s head. “It’s okay, boy.” Then she stood upright and headed back to the sofa, where she plopped down next to her nest of pillows. “Let’s get this over with. Say whatever it is you have to say, then get the hell out. I’m sure you feel vindicated.”

Tortoise sat on the floor in front of her, keeping his gaze on Libby’s friends.

Megan shut the door and eyed the messy room. She opened the lid of the pizza box on the coffee table and cringed, then carried it into the kitchen. “That’s not why we’re here.”

“Obviously.”

Blair grabbed a kitchen chair and dragged it into the living room in front of Libby. “Sarcasm won’t help.”

“Nothing will help.” She hadn’t meant to sound so defeated, but it was true.

Megan sat in the overstuffed chair between Libby and Blair. “We’re worried about you. This isn’t