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“Noah, why don’t you just come out and say it? You’re afraid I’m going to end up fucking him, aren’t you? Tell me the scenario because I’m really curious.”
He glares at me; I can see his jaw clenching, and the vein on the side of his forehead is becoming pronounces.
“I know guys like him, that’s all. You said he cheated on you, so why wouldn’t he cheat on his wife?”
“You’re not saying that. You’re saying you don’t trust me, not him. I don’t understand how you can say that. Have I done anything to make you feel that way?”
I can feel my eyes start to burn as the tears threaten to come. I try to force them back, but I lose, and they spill over my lids. I face my clothes and sniffle then start to sob. Noah reaches for me, and I push his hands away, rush past him to the bathroom and lock the door.
He knocks and calls my name several times, but I ignore him. Is this what he’s been thinking about me? That I’m going to cheat on him? We’ve been together for over two years, and I’ve never seen this behavior from him. Plenty of men have paid attention to me during that time but he just shrugged it off. Now it’s an issue?
I think that there are only two factors that have recently occurred to drive his reaction. One, that I now work for my ex and two, that he now has contact with his ex. He mentioned Vivian a few times, and, in that time, he always seemed to become dewy-eyed. Maybe it’s him who wants to cheat. Perhaps he’s still in love with her since their relationship ended so abruptly.
I don’t know, but whatever the problem, we better fix it soon. Our wedding is only four months away. I wipe away my tears and decide to draw a bath. I can use it after the busy week I’ve had. I pour in bath beads as the water is running. It fills the air with the rich scent of vanilla.
I spend almost an hour in the tub, refilling it when hot water when it starts to cool. I don’t hear from Noah during that time, and it’s fine with me. I’m so angry at him I’m not sure if I want to share the same bed with him tonight. I’d rather sleep alone in the guest room.
My skin is pruny by the time I come out, dry myself, and put on my robe. Noah is not in the bedroom and it’s well past eleven. I find him in the living room watching a baseball game that went into extra innings. He’s got a tumbler of something in his hand, probably gin which is his go-to if he drinks liquor.
I walk into the kitchen to get a bottle of water, and he comes up behind me, almost scaring me to death.
“I think it’s better if I sleep in the guest room tonight,” I say.
“No, Lexi. I need you in my bed,” he whispers as he strokes my hair.
“You should’ve thought of that before you accused me of cheating on you. How could you, Noah? I would never do that especially when I know how it feels.”
“I’m sorry. I lost my head. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“JC is my ex, and we work together. If you don’t want me to talk to him outside of work, just say so.”
“I want you to do what you think is right.”
“Think of it this way. I’m not asking you to stop talking to Vivian, am I?”
“That’s different; she’s the mother of my child.”
“But she’s still your ex.”
“Okay, I get it. Please sleep in our bed tonight.”
“I will.”
He buries his head in my shoulder, and he inhales against my skin.
“You smell delicious. I could eat you.”
“I’ll take it under advisement.”
Noah gives me a look of longing as he heads to the bathroom. I take off my robe and slip on my nightgown, forgoing a pair of panties. I’m dozing when Noah presses his body next to mine. He smells from minty toothpaste and something I can’t put my finger on, a floral scent. I drift into a restless sleep, unsure if we have a future.
Chapter 17
After our argument, things improve between us. Noah is a lot more attentive, and sex is back to an every night occurrence. I do notice he fields daily phone calls from either Vivian or Rory. I can’t stop that, and I don’t want to be a wedge between him and his daughter, but something bothers me about the constant interaction.
By the next Friday, we’re anticipating a visit from Lucian. I haven’t seen him for months, and I can’t wait. He’s four years younger than Noah, and at thirty-two, he could pass for twenty-two with his boyish looks. I prepare the guest room for him, hoping he doesn’t mind the boxes Noah’s stored there.
“Everything all set in here?” Noah asks as he pokes his head in the guest room door.
