either, and I don’t know why that is. Maybe I’m too scared to put myself out there. Scared to make myself that vulnerable.”
“Maybe you haven’t felt anything worth fighting for,” I said, certain that the DC douchebags she dated weren’t worthy of her anyway. Nobody was.
“Maybe. But that could be my fault too. I think I use work as an excuse not to really lose myself in a relationship. Because it’s safe. I’m good at it. I know exactly what I’m doing, and the risk of failure is low. With another person, you can never really know what they’re thinking or feeling.”
“You can ask him.”
“But I’m scared to ask him.” She turned onto her back and looked up at me with huge eyes. “What if he doesn’t feel what I feel?”
God, this woman. I’d have torn my heart from my chest for her.
“He does,” I said. “He always will.”
“Noah,” she whispered, and for a moment I was terrified of the words that might come out of her mouth.
If we didn’t say it, there was a chance we’d still be okay.
So I kissed her, moving my body over hers. And I tried to silence the voice in my head the same way, using our physical connection, our insatiable hunger for one another, as a weapon against the emotions that threatened to demolish all my defenses.
We could kiss, we could touch, we could fuck. We could make each other scratch and bite, sigh and moan. We could act out our fantasies, whisper dirty words in the dark, and make each other come all night long.
But we couldn’t love each other.
Not like that.
Twenty
Meg
Noah had the next day off, but he said he had boring errands to run—dry cleaners, bank, gym, grocery store—so he took me home in the morning and we made plans to hang out that evening. I’d planned to use the day to catch up on work, but spent the entire morning staring at my laptop screen and trying to make a decision about something I’d begun thinking about last night . . . moving back.
I’d lain awake for a good portion of the night wondering if it was the worst idea I’d ever had or the best. Was I really ready to drastically change my life to be with him? What would he say if I brought it up? Did he feel what I felt? What if he didn’t?
When Sylvia and April invited me to join them for shopping and lunch, I jumped at the chance to distract myself . . . Then I spent the entire time obsessing over the same questions that had kept me up last night.
“Earth to Meg.”
“Sorry, what?” I was sitting across the lunch table from them, and looked up to see them glance at each other, amused. I’d been asking them to repeat themselves all day.
“Your head is really in the clouds today,” April said with a rueful smile. “Mine’s just cloudy with a hangover.”
“Ugh, mine too.” Sylvia reached for her water. “Thank goodness we have tonight to recover before the rehearsal dinner tomorrow.”
“So tell us about your late night with Noah.” April’s eyebrows rose suggestively. “You haven’t said much at all. Was it fun?”
I felt a blush creep into my cheeks. “It’s always fun with Noah.”
But last night had gone beyond just fun. And what had me so starry-eyed and cloudy-headed today wasn’t the sex, it was the way we’d opened up to each other. Every time I thought about the way he’d confessed his guilt about Asher and how he felt he didn’t deserve to be happy, I wanted to cry. But it made me happy that he’d trusted me with such a deeply personal feeling.
And I totally understood why he’d been short with me in the car—like his dad, he’d just needed to get the anger out. Did I enjoy being spoken to that way? No, but it also meant something to me that he’d trusted me with those feelings too. He hadn’t felt the need to pretend everything was fine. And I didn’t just want the good times with Noah. I wanted everything.
I took a breath. “You guys, I need to say something out loud, and it might sound crazy.”
Sylvia’s eyes went wide and she set down her water. “Go ahead.”
Another breath. “I’m thinking of moving back.”
April’s jaw fell open. “Here?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“To be with Noah?” she asked.
“Well, yes, partly. I mean, I’d be lying if I said he didn’t factor in at all, but also . . .” I