“How was lunch?”
“Terrible.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you?”
With only the golden glow of the hallway light, Noah looks harsher than he ever has, his features distorted by shadow. His jaw is set and he stares at me with a sour frown.
“I am. I shouldn’t have pushed you into having lunch with her. It was clear you didn’t want to.”
“Why did you?”
I shouldn’t be surprised by the question; I’ve been asking myself the same one all day.
“Because I was scared.”
“Of Megan?”
“No. Ofthis.”
I don’t motion to the two of us, but the way his gaze falls to the ground tells me he made the connection. He leans forward, balancing his elbows on his knees.
“I don’t know what you want.”
I don’t either, and I should admit it, but the words are sticky, especially as he continues.
“I try to be a decent guy and you push me away. I try to give you the silence you practically force, and you push me further. I try to spend a normal fucking day at the god damned lavender festival, and youstillpush me away. I know we said this was just sex, but fuck. I thought . . .”
His voice trails off but the meaning is clear. He thought we could be more. A knot forms slow and solid in my throat, suffocating any words I might try to offer.
He stands from the chair and crosses the floor without looking at me.
“We should get some sleep. Our flight is early.”
The door clicks shut, leaving me alone in a bed that suddenly feels too big.
I’m still awake, my knees pulled to my chest, my chin resting atop them, when the sun casts gray light through the window. In the silence brought by dead of night I cycled through a myriad of feelings.
Guilt was first.
The way Noah walked out after explaining how he’d tried to give me everything I asked for kept refreshing over and over. Then I thought about how I’d react if someone I was sleeping with, even on a casual whim, forced me into a day spent with Axel. The weight of that reality nearly ground me into dust.
Anger was next.
How could I continue to put people through this? Especially people like Noah who have done nothing but try despite my silent brooding and refusal to explain.
And finally, softer than the other but no less powerful, is the soul crushing sadness sitting against my chest like a cinder block. Sadness that suffocates any vision of the future with the knowledge that I might have missed my chance. He tried and I still shoved him away with no explanation.
After dressing and smoothing my curls as much as I’m able, I take my bags out to the main part of the house. The blankets Noah used the first two nights are folded neatly on the edge of the couch. We only have about an hour before we have to leave for our flight, but he is nowhere to be found. I brew a pot of coffee, the silence in the house deafening.
I drink it alone, sitting at my usual place at the counter, dreading seeing Noah this morning. Will he be angry? Indifferent? Maybe since this was all supposed to end this weekend he’ll be fine—returned to his professional role.
He doesn’t give me enough time to gauge it. With only twenty minutes before we are supposed to meet the Barkers for a quiet goodbye as they resume the second day of their festival, Noah comes in, fresh off a run, and heads straight into the bathroom.
Figuring it’s just as well, I gather my things and head out to wait on the porch. When he emerges, dressed and with his bags clutched tight in his hands, he doesn’t look at me before crossing the garden and making for the main house.
Indifferent it is.
