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He turns and reaches up for a plate in the cabinet, and I wait for him to set it down on the counter before I respond.
“Yeah, about that…okay. Well, it’s important.”
He glances over at me, amused. I can’t imagine what he thinks this is about, but it’s probably nowhere near the mark.
“Natalie and I are in a relationship.”
His smile fades in an instant. “What?”
“Yeah.”
“What does that mean? You’re ‘in a relationship’? You’ve been dating while I’ve been gone?”
Dating…sleeping together during the hospital fundraiser. Tomato, tomato.
“Yes.”
His brows suddenly furrow as he comes to some conclusion in his head. “Wait—wait.” He shakes his head as if not quite understanding. “You slept with my sister?”
“What? Noah, c’mon.”
“No. Tell me the truth. You waited for me to leave town so you could screw my little sister? Are you guys even dating or did you just think she was an easy target considering you were living in the same house?”
I drop my coffee cup and turn fully toward him, trying not to let my anger rise. “That’s enough. It wasn’t like that.”
His caustic laugh pierces the air. “No. That’s exactly what happened, so say it. I want to be sure I have it right before I do something I’ll regret.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “Noah, don’t be stupid.”
“Stupid?”
He lunges for me and I dart around the island, all the way to the other side. We’re facing each other. He lunges right. Left. Right. He tries to guess which way I’ll head and for a long second, I’m stuck.
It’s not that I’m scared of a fight; it’s that I don’t want Noah to have to live with this on his conscience for the rest of his life. He’ll cool off and realize what a good match Natalie and I really are. He doesn’t need to throw a punch in her honor.
“Noah! Noah! C’mon man.”
“Don’t c’mon man me.”
I bolt around the island and he catches me midway through the kitchen. Thanks to my football days, I know how to take a tackle, so when Noah comes at me and shoves me square in the middle, I wrap my arms around him and carry him up and over the couch with me. He catches the side of the coffee table and groans, but that doesn’t slow him down. We’re wrestling like two idiots, trying to get the upper hand.
I’m trying not to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all when he breaks free of my hold and lands a solid punch on my cheek.
“What the fuck!” I curse, pain radiating through my face. “Get off me.”
It’s hard playing defense when your opponent’s goal is to pound you into dust. I could try to throw a punch or two of my own, but that can’t happen. I don’t want this to turn into something nasty. We aren’t fighting to the death. I’m just blocking Noah’s rage until he finally cools down.
“You slept with my sister!” he shouts, throwing another punch near my face that misses as I throw him off me.
I scramble to my feet and try to dart around the couch. There’s no end goal except to put distance between him and me.
“Don’t be an idiot! You don’t want to do this.”
“I assure you, I really, really do,” he says, catching up with me in time to grab ahold of my pant leg and trip me so I go down.
I’m nearly laughing. Anyone would be embarrassed by this fight. We’re two UFC wannabes, running around the couch in circles like we’re in the middle of a Three Stooges skit.
I throw a couch pillow at him. He grabs two and hurls them at me. I duck and laugh. “Dammit. Can’t you just calm down and we can—”
He leaps over the couch and tries to tackle me again. We’re on the ground and I’m blocking my face with my hands while simultaneously trying to push him away.
“Not the hands, moron. I have to operate on Monday. Not the hands.”
I force him off me, and we strong-arm each other. My knuckles accidentally clip his eye and he hisses in pain.
“Shit.”
He rolls over, catching his breath.
“Yo-you okay, Noah?”
He glares at me over his shoulder before reaching over to deliver one more hard shove on my shoulder.
“How could you do that to her?” he asks, disappointment heavy in his voice.
“I didn’t do anything. Natalie and I are together.”
He reaches out to fist my shirt again so he can go in for another punch and I push him off me.
“Stop—stop.” My fist covers his as I try to wrench myself free. “I love her, man.”
His eyes snap up in my direction again and I’m met with a healthy dose of skepticism.
“Yeah. I do.” My voice is calm, steady. “I love her.”
He huffs out an annoyed sigh and pushes me away, falling onto his back. We’re both lying there on the ground, catching our breaths, not speaking. His lip is busted and bleeding. My cheek is swelling. I’m pretty sure he ripped out a tuft of my hair, and I clipped him on the eye pretty good.
