I half expected Noah to give me some speech similar to what Spencer did—about how this wasmylife and that my mom probably wouldn’t have wanted me to keep my promise if it meant I’d be miserable for the rest of my life.
But he didn’t. Instead, he placed a gentle hand on my naked shoulder, squeezing. “I get it. I know what it’s like keeping a promise…even if it keeps you from living.”
The way his expression dulled, and the color of his eyes jaded with an unfocused gaze, I knew whatever he was referring to had him all chained up in the past. I wanted to pry and push; peel the layers with questions so I could find the center. His center. But there was a tiny voice urging me not to pick at wounds that could easily start bleeding again.
I cleared my throat and focused on the half-eaten pancake in front of me. “Doesn’t matter. Even if I didn’t make that promise, I’d probably still stick around. Be a walking reminder to Elenor that my dad once loved another woman.” I shrugged. “Just to make sure she doesn’t forget who the real Whitlock queen is.”
Noah snickered and shook his head lightly. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.” He leaned closer, placing his hand on the backrest of my chair. “Hey, I know you and your brothers don’t like Elenor, and that’s okay. But, even though I don’t know your father that well, my guess is that just because he fell in love with another woman doesn’t mean he loves your mother or the memory of her any less.”
“It’s hard for me even to fathom that. To think that my dad can still love my mom while sharing his bed with another woman. Especially one half his age.”
Noah cleared his throat and righted himself in his seat.
“Oh, come on.” I rolled my eyes. “There is a fifteen-year age difference between us. Not twenty-five. I honestly don’t get why it bothers you.”
He swallowed a bite and took a sip of his coffee. “Maybe it’s not so much the age difference that bothers me.”
“Then what then?”
He didn’t look at me as he absentmindedly dragged his fork across his pancake. “As you said, everyone has their own cross they need to carry. Maybe I care too much to knowingly saddle you with mine.” He glanced at me. “You’re young. You’re beautiful. And you deserve someone with a clean slate.”
“What if I don’t want someone with a clean slate?”
He shot me a sideways glance. “Then this is the part where I play the age card, telling you that you’re too young to know what you want.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Life’s not fair, baby girl. You know that.” He took another bite and didn’t look my way.
I dropped my fork on my plate and turned in my seat to look at him straight. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Act like you care, and then a minute later you pretend that you don’t give a fuck.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Then how is it, exactly?”
Something dark flashed in his eyes, his forehead creased and brows knitted. “I’m too fucked up for you, Sienna.”
“How about you let me decide that on my own?”
“It’s not a decision you can make when you don’t have all the facts.”
“Then tell me.”
“Jesus Christ.” He threw his fork down and jerked up from his seat. “What is it that you want from me?”
I stood, clutching the sheet tighter in front of my chest. “I don’t want anything from you other than acting true to what you’re feeling.”
“Believe me, that’s all I’ve been doing for the last six fucking years. Acting true to what I’m feeling.”
“I’m not talking about your ex-wife. I meant…about me.” My cheeks burned, embarrassment creeping in as I set myself up for humiliation, doubting that he felt as strongly about me as I did about him.
Noah just stood there, pulling his hand through his hair before rubbing the back of his neck—clearly closed off and nothing but annoyed by our topic of conversation. I could see the discomfort he felt talking about what was happening between us.
I inhaled deeply, bunching the sheet between my fingers so it’s easier to walk with it wrapped around me. “You know what, it’s okay. You’re right. You’ve been against anything happening between us from the start. And I kept on pushing instead of taking a hint.” I was about to turn and head to the bedroom when it occurred to me. “It’s her, isn’t it?”