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“Okay, so let’s start with Dominic. What are you going to do?”
“Nothing. There’s nothing to do. I’m not going to be his mistress because Allegra wants me to be. It’s complicated, and it’s not really what I want anymore…”
“You want Noah?”
“I don’t know what I want. I know that when Dominic and I were doing what we did, I felt powerful. He made me feel like a woman,” I say with honesty, knowing the glasses of champagne have something to do with it. “But when I’m with Noah… it’s just…”
“Parfaite?” She smiles while tossing her long chocolate-brown hair to the side.
“Not exactly perfect. We argue a lot.” I grin fondly. “But there’s just something between us I can’t explain. He makes me feel safe, but he understands my passions. I’m not a toy to him, nor a mistress…”
Emile leans forward, placing her hand on mine. Her fingers are adorned with rings and her nails perfectly manicured. “There’s a saying in French, Entre deux cœurs qui s’aiment, nul besoin de paroles.”
“Between two hearts that love each other, no need for words,” I repeat, letting out a sigh. “Love is a strong word.”
“Oui,” she says, her gaze fixated on mine. “Don’t let it slip away because you’re scared. This could be a good thing, Kate. This could be the moment that changes your soul forever.”
***
Charlie’s black SUV pulls up along the curb, followed by an excited wave. I hate LAX with a passion. The traffic jam of cars to the impatient people pushing through and knocking you with their suitcases. It’s been three years since I last stepped foot in California, and boy, do the awful memories come crashing like a tidal wave.
“How was the flight?” Charlie asks after loading my things into the car and giving me a tight hug.
“Exhausting.”
“You better find some energy because I’ve got three girls at home dying to suck the rest of your life away.”
Charlie isn’t exaggerating. The girls are nonstop. They have to show me everything under the sun, and on occasion, I get an “Aunty Kate, watch me!” only to watch Ava do some random jump or hop. I have no clue how both Lex and Charlie do it full-time. I’m utterly exhausted in their presence.
By dinner, I can see their faces grow tired. Amelia wants to stay up to finish watching some television show which Charlie agrees to while Lex sorts out Ava and Addison for bed.
I check my phone for what feels like the millionth time today. Still, nothing from Noah, assuming Charlie or Lex told him I was coming. I equally play my stubborn part, not contacting him because, frankly, I don’t know what to say or even how I feel. After my dinner with Emile, I thought my sentiments came out clearer. It turns out, when the champagne wore off, I was back to square one of feeling confused.
“You know, he’s home if you want to see him?” Charlie raises her eyes to meet mine.
“See who?”
Charlie’s smile fades from wary to pensive. “Noah. He texted me about some movie, asking me if it was a chick flick.”
“Oh… does he live far from here?”
“About fifteen minutes, I can give you his address?”
“No.” I grimace hopelessly. “I’m good.”
We work silently at the kitchen table putting party favors together until the pressure mounts, frustration seeps into every crevice, and I can’t take it anymore. I need closure, finality, something to make me sleep tonight.
“You know what? I’d like that address. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be back soon.”
Charlie doesn’t say a word, texting me the address which appears promptly on my phone and hands me the keys to her car.
I type the address into the GPS, then remember that I’m on the other side of the road. My mind is scattered, reverting back to my English driving, giving myself a heart attack as headlights come straight at me. The road to Malibu feels longer than the fifteen minutes Charlie implied, only adding to the anxiety of it all.
The car is parked in front of his place. I hop out immediately, not giving myself time to back out, and my fist bangs on the door, louder than I should’ve allowed it to. Tapping my foot impatiently, I cross my arms until the lights come on. Noah opens the door dressed in his gray sweats and no shirt.
Shit—I’m screwed.
The direction of my eyes falls upon his perfectly sculpted chest to the six-pack of abs cut to perfection. Why does he have to be so sexy? Was he always like this?
