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If only I could come to terms with my career.
Noah leans down and kisses me. I’m a bit confused because that kind of kiss—the soft, gentle, tender kiss—is what he gives me after an argument. It’s the everything-will-be-okay kiss. It always comes after an argument. However, we haven’t had an argument. Am I missing something?
“What’s wrong?” I blurt out.
Leo barks a pitiful little puppy bark, so Noah picks him up and sets him on the bed. “Nothing’s wrong,” he says.
“Don’t lie to me.”
His eyes shoot up from Leo to me. I rest my hands on his stomach, feel it tense underneath my touch, and wait for him to speak. Noah sighs. “Nothing. Promise. Things have been good with us and I know whatever you’re going to tell me when you decide to let me in is going to drop a bomb on us. I just...” He cups my neck. “We’ll be all right.”
But his words are a reassurance for himself more so than for me. He’s worried damage will be done when I explain my past. That very well may happen. Maybe he’s worried that I’ll do what I’ve been doing: running away and falling apart. His day off is Saturday, and I plan to bare my secrets then.
“We’ll be all right,” I repeat.
Hopefully, that’s true.
He kisses me softly just once more before crawling into bed and holding me. It’s reassuring.
Noah’s not going to let go of me now or after I’ve bared my soul to him.
He’s going to hold on for dear life.
“Almost there,” I breathe. My fingers curl in Noah’s hair and I struggle with holding him down or yanking him up because I can’t take it anymore. “Ooooohhhhh goooooodddd,” I groan, my legs squeezing around his head while I fall apart from my second orgasm of the morning. Noah woke me up with some strategic touches, made love to me, and then kissed his way down my body to set me off again. As the waves begin to settle, my legs fall back open, my fingers release their hold, and my bones melt to make me feel weak and satisfyingly exhausted. Noah crawls up my body with a cocky grin. That’s the first time he’s done what he just did since we’ve been back together. “You know, you’ve gotten way better at that.”
He tilts his head. “Are you saying I was bad before?”
In my happy delirium, I nod. “You were sloppy; I may have faked a few times.”
“You faked?”
I giggle at his astonishment.
“This is not a laughing matter.”
“You can’t be surprised that teenage Noah sucked at oral.”
“Teenage Mere was fucking great at oral,” he says and I bark out a laugh.
“That’s because I was with teenage Noah! You were always easy to get off.”
He shakes his head at me, but there’s a smile on his face. “You know, people are going to think I’m sick or something,” he says, changing the subject.
“Why?”
“I’ve never missed an optional skate; it’ll be noticed.”
“Should you go then?” I hate that I feel so out of the loop when it comes to his career. That’s like Sylvia is begging me to go to lunch with her and some of the other wives and girlfriends, but I’ve created excuses each time. Some of them were legit, most were not. I don’t feel like I fit in yet. Some of them revolve their lives around their men and the organization. Some don’t. Some seem to do both. I don’t even know that I’d want get as involved as some of them. I worry that I’ll lose myself like I did with Vance.
I may have been a phenom, but Vance has been the best male tennis player for three years straight. My fame had nothing on him. Absolutely nothing. I wasn’t known as Meredith Quick, tennis player. I was known as Vance Powers’s girlfriend. Not even as Meredith or a girl who happened to play tennis as well. Being lost in the shuffle was liberating at first, but soon, and especially after my injury, I felt lost. Meredith all but vanished. I struggled to maintain a sense of self while Vance overshadowed me. He made sure when we were together that his light shone brighter than m
ine. He wanted me to be his version of the perfect spouse and it was so hard to fit into the cutout he made for me. My biggest fear used to be who am I without tennis. That battled with who am I with Vance.
Looking back, it’s easy to see how he smothered me. Noah gives me plenty of space for what I want while also making sure I give him what he wants and we do what we both want. It was almost always about Vance. He wanted me more involved in his life without reciprocating even a little. Toward the end, it was a relief that Vance wanted to end our relationship. Between my injury and being with him, I didn’t know who the hell I was anymore. In some regards, I still don’t.
Shouldn’t I feel secure in my life and who I am by now? I’m not a teenager. I’m not in my early twenties anymore. Why haven’t I figured life out yet? Why haven’t I figured myself out yet? Things only worsened when my engagement ended and the events that followed did not help. I’ve been stagnant, lost in between my life without Noah and tennis, but I’m beginning to find my way.
I think.
