But… this was Noah. He’d put Band-Aids on me. He’d gotten a unicorn painted on his face by my side on my fifth birthday. He had carried me on his shoulder when we had been fifteen and I’d won my first Pan-American game. Before he’d turned into such a dipshit, he had been my closest friend.
But….
Then again, he’d also pushed me down a few times and caused me to need the damn Band-Aids in the first place.
Unfortunately, I knew him. At least I had known the person he’d been before becoming this. And if he was feeling entitled and genuinely thought he felt a certain way about me, there was only going to be one way that he’d stop all this shit and just let me move on.
“I’m not going to dinner with you. But if you want to talk, we can do it at the juice bar later. I have to work, and I’ve got Mo at home, and I want to spend time with her.”
His nostrils flared at the mention of her.
And it made me sad.
It made me real sad.
Friends were supposed to support each other. They were supposed to be there for one another even if you thought they were being dumbasses. Even when things weren’t perfect and easy.
I realized then better than I ever had before, that things between Noah and I would never be the same. Not even close. Not when he flinched when I brought up the joy waiting for me at home. The kid that was as much a part of me as my own hand was. Even more important than my stupid-ass hand.
And he was never going to be okay with where I was in my life now. Jonah or no Jonah. It didn’t take a genius to see that either.
It made me really sad, and I’d have to save that up for later.
The arm right next to my own went hard again, but I wasn’t going to think twice about it. Not right then.
“You don’t have time for me?” Noah asked, going there like I owed him something.
He should have known better. “No, I don’t. I barely have time to take a poop in peace. Are you good with five thirty or not?”
He could see it. I saw that. He could see that I wasn’t going to budge. Not anymore. Not when spending time with him had once been second nature. But that had been a long, long time ago.
The way he said “fine” almost got to me.
Almost.
But I had an imaginary Kevlar vest on, so it bounced right off.
And when Noah sneered at Jonah before basically stomping his way out of my office, all I could do was regret not giving him the official kick out of my life when he had ruined one of my dreams by being a careless prick.
“That went well.”
Jonah turned toward me. “You’re going to talk to him?”
I blinked. “I’m going to listen to him. At the juice bar. In the gym. I thought I said that out loud?”
That wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting based on the scowl on his face.
The scowl that honestly pleased me a hell of a lot more than I would ever admit.
I’d had friends before who got all pissed off when their boyfriends and husbands got jealous, but I couldn’t find even the tiniest bit of anger inside of me. Annoyance, yeah. But just a little.
Because hadn’t he fucking listened? Did he not understand that I’d downgraded our conversation from dinner—when we hadn’t had dinner together by ourselves in… never—to being here at Maio House in front of people? Hello?
I had to keep my face neutral. I wasn’t about to ruin this shit. I was going to soak it up, eat it up, and gorge on it. Then do it all over again.
“You know what he’s planning on saying,” he accused in a voice that was almost that deadly one but not.
He was mad.
Hehe.
“I don’t understand why you need to listen to that fucking arsehole.”
Seriously, my heart soared, just flew right out of my chest and straight into the sky, and I had to keep my face straight so I wouldn’t give myself away, and it was a lot harder than I ever would have imagined.
This beautiful, handsome, amazing man was jealous.
Was that what joy felt like? It had to be. It fucking had to be.
It was because of that joy, and the borderline anger on his face and the fact that he had no idea that he