"Right. Cause you're flying back to Canada in two weeks," he says, raising his eyebrows. And then it hits me.
Harder than I was ready for. That sentence.
"You're flying back to Canada in two weeks."I swallow. It’s like my chest cracks open on its own.
Shit. Before I can stop it, my eyes start to sting. Noah sits up the second he sees. "No. No no no no no no. Don't you do that. Don't do that to me."
I try to turn my face away, wipe my eyes fast, but it's already happening. I feel like I can't keep anything in anymore. "I don't want to leave him, Noah," I choke.
"I know."
"I don't want to leaveanyof this."
Noah pulls me into a hug. "Hey. Hey, it's okay. Cry like a little bitch. You're safe." I let out a broken laugh, but it collapses into a sob halfway through. "I love him so much."
"I know you do."
"It hurts. It hurts, Noah."
"I know."
I pull back just enough to breathe, wiping my face with the sleeve of his shirt. "I wouldneverask him to come with me," I say, shaking my head. "He has the business. His dad's business. It's all he has left of him. He'd never leave it. And I'd never ask."
Noah rubs my shoulder.
"I get it. I do. Trust me—if it were up to me, I'd lock you both in a house together until you got married and had three overly dramatic kids with tattoos."
I laugh again.
"But Rava," he says, more serious now, "I've known you for four years. I've heard you talk about your plan for your life athousand times. I could recite your plan like a speech. And yeah, it's annoyingly solid. School, degree, teaching, a life you build for yourself." He pauses. "I'm not saying Gio doesn't deserve you. But that plan…it deserves a shot too."
I stare at him, quiet. And he adds, "I just hate that sometimes the people we love aren't on the same page at the same time."
I nod slowly. "I've never loved anyone like this."
And that is it. I crack again. Cave into him, forehead pressed to his shoulder. Noah just holds me. Doesn't say anything. I stay folded into him for a minute. Maybe two. I don't know. Everything feels blurry and sharp at the same time.
"You know you two have to talk, right?"
I don't answer.
"I mean it," he says gently. "You guys are like—painfully in love. It’s obvious to everyone except you two, apparently."
I sniff. "We do talk."
"Yeah. About grapes. And pies. And emotional eye contact. Not your actual feelings."
"It's hard."
"I know it's hard," he says. "But you're both acting like this whole thing is just gonna sort itself out. Like feelings are furniture you can push around until the room feels right." That actually makes me laugh. Noah pulls back to look at me. "You keep saying you love him. You cry over him. You talk about him like he's the moon."
I groan. "Oh my God—"
"The MOON, Rava."
I shove him lightly. "You're disgusting."
"I'm right, though."
