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I’m like a fucking lovesick puppy.
For the first time in my life, work hasn’t been a priority for me.
The contrast isn’t lost on me. That when Sutton and I broke up, I was able to carry on like normal, that the breakup was barely a blip on my radar. With Savannah, it’s like my world has imploded.
All of this is why I left the meeting I was in. I couldn't concentrate. I didn’t say a word. I just stood up and walked out. Hired a helicopter and flew the hour it took to get from Manhattan to Albany. It’s why I’m now sitting in the back of a theatre, watching as she blows me away.
I just need to see her, then I’ll leave. Being in the same room as her is enough for a blanket of calm to cover me. I relax back into the uncomfortable seat, sinking down low so as not to be seen.
As much as I want to make my presence known, I know that if we’re going to work this out, I need to give her the space she asked for. Even though I fucking miss her and want to tell her how I feel. That I choose her. Nothing else matters. Just her.
I’ve done nothing but wrestle with this decision for months. Each day, I’ve flipped between claiming her as mine and keeping my promise to Jack.
An image of Jack comes to mind but I push it away along with the guilt. I can’t keep going on like this, but I’m still afraid. Losing him as a friend is going to be like losing a brother. But I know I’ll get through it, because I’ll have her. And maybe Jack will come around eventually.He’ll be my brother-in-law one day, so he has to. Right?
Either way, the betrayal is done and I can’t take it back. Not that I would, because that would mean not having had her. I need to own my actions and step up to the plate for her, instead of cowering away like I have been.
The curtain closes and I stand with everyone else, applauding the performance. This run through is supposed to be closed to the public, but after making a six figure offer to the producer, I’ve been allowed to sit in and observe. Of course he was hesitant, but I wasn’t going to let anyone or anything get in the way of seeing her. And it’s not really my style to stalk her from a parked car.
When the curtain opens again, she bends at the waist before straightening. I swear it’s like her gaze finds mine and the soft smile on her lips is only for me. My breath stalls in my throat. In my mind, I know it’s impossible for her to see me, but it doesn’t stop me from believing that she knows I’m here. That she wants to see me too.
I stay rooted to the spot as she disappears from my view again. At least ten minutes pass before I can get my body to move. My feet carry me from the center of the back row, out of the building and across the parking lot. All the while, a rushing sounds in my ears as I drown in my loneliness.
“Noah.”
My heart races, and when I turn around, I see my angel. Her face breaks out into a smile and her hair flows in the breeze as she races toward me. With a halo of light behind her, she really does look like an angel. She leaps into my arms, wrapping her legs around my waist as her lips seek mine out.
Banding my arms around her, I hold her tight, allowing her to set the pace. Her tongue seeks entry into my mouth and I give it willingly. The strokes are gentle, as if she’s savoring the taste. Hope erupts in my chest as a warmth floods my body. It’s going to be okay. We’re going to be okay. All my fears are slayed just holding her in my arms.
She pulls back, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of my neck. Her voice is throaty when she says, “I missed you.”
Fuck, if those three little words don’t tell me so much yet, so little.
“I missed you too, angel.”
I love you, angel.
With one hand, she strokes the side of my face before leaning in for another kiss. This one is chaste and like she couldn't help herself. It’s the most natural thing for me to hold her in my arms like this. For our mouths to touch and my heart to race in her presence.
This doesn’t feel wrong.
It’s so fucking right.
She whispers against my mouth, breathless and needy, “Take me home.”
I pull back, my gaze searching hers as hope blossoms in my chest. The need to take her back to New York, to lock us away in my apartment and lose myself in her for days is overwhelming.
“To a hotel, Noah. I can’t leave.”
Of course.
My stomach drops, and a weight settles heavy in my chest at the realization. Nodding, I slide her down my body, taking hold of her hand as I walk her to the car I arrived in. I wasn’t planning on staying, so I don’t have a room booked, but I won’t let something as insignificant as that stop me from spending time with her.
Opening the door for her, I watch as she slides in and scoots across the seats, making room for me. I instruct the driver to take us to a hotel. Any five star hotel.
Relaxing into the seat, I hold her hand, rubbing small circles on the back as we cruise through the streets. My breaths are slow and easy and a looseness takes over my limbs. I’m content to just sit in her company, taking comfort in her touch.
It doesn’t take long before we pull up outside the hotel, and when we’re checked in, I take hold of her hand again, leading the way to the room.
