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He laughs, taking a seat on the edge of my bed. “I don’t think there’s smooth sailing in paradise.”
I glance at him to roll my eyes as I fold some clothes and place them in the box.
“What’s on your mind, Meredith?” he presses, my phone dinging with another text.
Noah: Don’t forget all your sexy lingerie.
Me: I won’t. Don’t forget to make room for my clothes before you leave for your games.
Noah: Doing it this afternoon.
“Are you going to ignore me?”
“No,” I sigh, facing my closet. I shift through the hangers and pretend to be looking at what I want to take. “I don’t know if it’s worth mentioning is all.”
“If it’s bothering you, then it’s worth it. Is it you or Noah?”
“Both?”
Dad sighs now. He’s probably annoyed at my evading. Maybe it’s something about Pittsburgh or this house that causes me to not want to talk about anything.
“Noah seemed freaked out when I told him I was coming home,” I say to my closet. “He relaxed when I added it was only for the weekend, but it took twenty minutes for him to say goodbye to me this morning and reconfirm when I was coming back. That’s weird, right?” To have something to do, I grab a few jackets and place them in the box.
Dad has his thinking face on, his lips slightly pursed and his eyes crinkling a little at the corners. “It’s always easier for a man to handle himself walking away than if his woman walks away.”
“So, Noah’s scared I’ll leave him again?”
> “Possibly.”
The familiar guilt and regret from my actions in the past grip my throat, especially since if I return to tennis, we could have a repeat of what happened when we were teenagers.
“Or,” Dad continues, “he’s still struggling with the side effects of you leaving him.”
“What do you mean?”
“There could be some resentment, some fear, some anger. Just leftover emotions he may not have dealt with.”
I frown. “I sort of get that, but we both agreed to break up.”
“But it was your idea,” Dad interrupts. “Noah was always unsure about it. There wasn’t much he could do in protest because you were going to leave him regardless.” When I open my mouth to protest, Dad hurries to add, “If he had begged you, would you have changed your mind? If he had flat-out refused, would you have still walked away?”
Would I have? If I knew then what I know now, then definitely not. Otherwise, I would have still walked away.
“Noah didn’t want you to go, but you laid out your reasoning, told him how badly you wanted it, and he didn’t put up much of a fight.” He’s right. Now that I think about it, Noah hardly fought to keep me. “He wanted you to be happy and you pretty much told him breaking up was the only way you would be. It wasn’t a mutual agreement, Meredith. Noah just didn’t protest.”
“How do you know all these things?” I ask a question that doesn’t really matter.
“You talked to your mom, Noah talked to his sister who talked to her mom, and we talked to each other.” He shrugs.
Not wanting to think about it anymore, I go back to packing. Dad leaves shortly after Mom arrives. She does more than Dad to help me pack up, and I’m able to avoid talking much about the apparent problems with Noah and me. Conversation has been on safe topics, like my new job, until Mom gets unusually quiet. Something is clearly on her mind.
“What do you want to talk to me about, Mom?” I finally ask as we break to eat the pizza I had delivered.
“Vance called.”
My throat dries and I feel lightheaded. “What?” I force myself to keep a mostly normal tone.
“We weren’t home, so he left a message. He wanted us to call him back and let him know how to get in touch with you since you changed your number.”
