Noah threw up both of his hands in the air when he came down the steps of his multi-million dollar mansion.
I had not seen him since he came back from his honeymoon, and the man was almost as tanned as me. My Italian roots and my father’s dark tone were dominant in my genes and my brother’s. Mom was mostly fair-skinned, like Noah. However, on that day, we could have passed for brothers.
“Married life is treating you well?” I greeted him as I stood with my arms on the hood of my rental, but I had my door open.
“Yes, it is, mate.” He smiled. “Yes, it is. Now what the bloody hell is wrong with ya?”
“Going through some shite right now,” I heard my London accent coming out when talking with a fellow Londoner. “Need a mate.”
Noah sobered, gave me a weird look, and said, “Well, you got one.”
“Step into my office.” I hit the top of my car.
Without any protest, he got in. I followed, and he sat there and waited for me to begin.
“I want a child,” I started to say, as my mind began to think and formulate what I really wanted and not the shit I’d been telling myself. “I want a legacy, mate. I want a son. I want more.”
There was a beat of silence, and then Noah asked, “What’s holding you back?”
“Me, I think.” This idea of sounding unsure was not me.
“You think?” he clarified.
A heavy sigh escaped, and then I made a decision. Just bloody say it.
Out loud.
I told him about me and Sheryl hooking up, the miscarriage, my proposal, and everything. Like a good mate, he sat and listened to me until I finished. Then before he could start on the whole path that my mother had taken, I told him what she’d said. Then I was done.
Noah ran his hand across the luxury car’s dashboard and asked, “So what do you want?”
That was the million-dollar question. The fact that I’d come all the way over here to sit in the car and chat should have meant something, but I couldn’t see it, until I found myself spilling my guts out to my mate. This was not the type of shit we’d do. We’d talk shit, figure out ways to make money and more deals, we used to go out before he met Maxine and pick up women. Well, I mostly picked up the women, because Noah went through a stint of marriage to a shrew, then he was just lonely for some odd reason. Hell, I’m glad he met Maxine, even though their union was quite unusual.
Now it was me. I had other mates, but if I was going to divulge any information to anyone, it would be Noah.
The question still remained in the air, like a waiting drum beat of a popular song. You knew it was coming, but you always second-guessed yourself on how long it actually took before your favorite part came in.
“I don’t know,” I finally shared. “I, uh, find myself in a conundrum with a lot of emotions that clearly are clouding my judgment.”
“Your mum said that you were tying her down. Is that true?” Noah asked.
I thought before I answered and thought about what Sheryl would say, the questions we answered even in the beginning. The malarky I conjured up with how to handle it. Fuck me. She must have thought I was a world-class asshole.
Double fuck.
“Yeah, I wanted her to myself,” I finally admitted. “I wanted her, if I’m seeing this correctly.”
Silence engulfed the small space, reminding me of why I hadn’t wanted to go inside of my best mate’s new home where he and his wife had started their lives together. It was a reminder that I had no one. A stark memory that what was once happy was not. So much so that I’d moved out of the country to get away, never to return.
Bloody hell. I needed a therapist.
“I think I’ve mucked this up with Sheryl,” I said before I could even process it in my head.
Noah didn’t say anything in return, just continued to look down the long line of mansions in his gated community.
“Then un-muck it up, mate,” Noah finally shared. “If you mess this up with my wife’s best friend, I won’t hear the end of it. Understand? You already had to grow on her, as your reputation preceded you. Now she actually wants the two of you to be together. Un-muck it up!”
“That’s awfully selfish of you,