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“Just the person I wanted to see,” he says, trotting over.
“How was your trip, Mr. Walters?”
“Terrible. All I caught was a stomach bug.” He waves a hand, dismissing it. “I was supposed to give you this at the unveiling but as you well know it’s been delayed.” He hands me a manila envelope. Speechless, I stare at it in my hand.
“Ronald was adamant that you get this at the end,” Walters continues. “Have a good day, Miss Murphy.” And with that, he walks away.
End of what?
* * *
Noah
It’s 1 a.m. by the time I get home from the club. I climb the steps to find Maren sitting on the porch swing.
“Mare––what are you doing up?” I say, startled to find her awake and sitting outside.
The light over the front door casts a glow on her profile. It’s her expression that gets my attention, though, sounding a shitload of alarm bells. Crouching, I take her face in my hands and force her to look me in the eye.
She blinks rapidly and pulls my hands away, giving my wrists a gentle squeeze before she drops them. She’s starting to seriously fucking worry me. Whatever it is, we can deal with it…as long as she doesn’t leave me, I can deal with anything.
“I found the safety deposit box key,” she announces in a flat voice. I get up and sit next to her. Fishing a small key out of the pocket of her sweatshirt, she hands it to me. “It was in an envelope Walters gave me today.”
“Did you check the safety deposit box?”
“Yeah…there was fifty grand in cash, which I deposited straight into the club’s business account…and a letter.”
She picks the letter up off the bench and hands it to me. I unfold it and read.
Well, cupcake, this one’s going to hurt. I won’t deny it’s the coward’s way out, explaining everything in a letter. But this will have to do because if you’re reading it then I’m dead. As the years passed I promised myself I was going to tell you. I just never got the courage.
I honestly thought I was doing what was best for you when I asked Noah in no uncertain terms to let you go. How he chose to carry out my orders is on him, but the rest was on me.
You have to know that I love you and didn’t mean to hurt you. Had I known how much pain I was causing the both of you I wouldn’t have meddled. Even an old man like me gets it wrong sometimes.
Know that I only wanted you to succeed. I knew you were capable of accomplishing so much in your career and I didn’t want you to throw it away. I hope and pray you find it in your heart to forgive me one day.
Noah never stopped loving you, but you probably don’t need me to tell you that. Keep living your life to the fullest and loving without the breaks on, Cupcake.
Rowdy.
“If he wasn’t dead already, I’d kill him,” she says in a low grouchy tone.
I fucking told Rowdy not to tell her, I begged him. I knew nothing good would come of it. Stubborn, old goat.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What for? It would’ve only hurt you, and like he said, what happened was on me.”
“Noah…” She rakes her hair back in quick hard motions, slaps her palm down on her thigh. “This must’ve been a lot to carry around. You could’ve told me.”
The truth comes out quietly and without thought. “I love you so much I would carry the weight of the damn world on my shoulder’s if it spared you a second of pain. I don’t know how to be any other way with you…please don’t ask me to change.”
Her big eyes watch me the way they’ve always watched me––expecting only the best. She curls her hand around my neck and pulls me closer, our lips a breath apart. “I’ll take you the way you are.”
And then she seals her promise with a kiss.
* * *
Maren
I wake up in a terrible mood. With a need to burn it off, I kiss Noah on the forehead, sneak out of bed, and slip out the front door. That alone fuels my morning run. My heart pumps loudly and not because I’m dragging. The more my quads ache and my hamstrings burn, the faster I run. Or better yet, try to outrun the feeling that we’re living on borrowed time.
An hour later my iPhone rings as I step out of the shower. Katya’s name flashes onscreen and I answer.
“Have you seen Daily Mail?”
Nuts. That’s never the start of a good conversation. “No,” I answer warily. “It’s not on my to-do list today.”
Or ever.
She exhales loudly as she tends to do when she’s irritated with me. “I’m not in mood for attitude.”
