I remember the things we can control from our remote in our apartment. Looks like he’s hired the same people for here. “And the outside?” I ask.
He nods and presses a few more buttons until we’re lit up like Blackpool illuminations. I stare open-mouthed at the gardens, which have been landscaped to within an inch of their life. The lawn stretches out for miles until it reaches the tall, hedged border that leads to the road. Huge shrubs and bushes are strategically placed to make it look even bigger than it already is. I can’t even imagine what it must be like around the back, where the endless panoramic views of the Moors are laid out right in front of you.
“This is incredible,” I whisper, turning completely around. My eyes can’t get enough of it. “It’s so different,” I say.
He smiles at me. “I’m glad you approve.”
“How’ve you managed it?” I ask.
He takes a deep breath. “You remember me telling you that I had to sell some of the land to pay for Grandad’s care?”
I nod.
“Well,” he says, “it turns out that the value of the land had really shot up. When he died, I sold off the farming land and just kept this little square. The house was already paid for years before and my Grandad had squirreled away nearly half a million quid in cash. When I finished uni, I inherited my parents’ farm and their land and the money from their policies and all of their investments and stuff. I had too much money. I didn’t know what to do with it.”
“So you bought the apartments?” I ask.
He nods. “And a couple of other things. I still have too much money.”
“Why do you work then?” I ask, folding my arms across my chest. The wind is really starting to bite now. I want to go in to look at his kitchen and nosey at the books on the bookcase.
“It gives me something to do,” he says. “I’d be bored otherwise.”
“Well, it looks beautiful,” I say. “Does it have central heating or a fire?”
He smirks. “Only the best,” he says, holding his arm out for me to link him.
“You wanted me to see this, didn’t you?” I ask as he unlocks his front door.
He looks up and stares at me, searching my face. “Yes,” he says. “I think it’ll help.”
“How?” I ask, stepping into the hallway. It’s bigger than my entire apartment and the book-lined staircase is even more spectacular now that I can actually see it and smell the books.
“It’s closure,” he says, sucking in a deep breath. “It started here and it’ll end here.”
I turn to try and look at his face, but he turns away and starts to walk into the room on the right. I don’t move. Closure? What will end here? I don’t think I want to know what he plans on doing. Why did he have to drag me back here to do it? Why not just tell me in York that he never wants to see or hear from me again?
I’m tossing and turning. The room is cold—too cold. My feet are freezing and I can never sleep if my feet are cold. I huff and throw the covers off me, searching around in the dark for my dressing gown that Noah had packed.
I’m in the biggest guest bedroom. We argued over who would get what room because Noah wanted me to take his room, but I said I didn’t think I could go back in there. Not today anyway. And I especially didn’t want to sleep in the room where he shags his women on the side.
I think I’ve figured out exactly what this place is. It’s his shag pad. He keeps nipping over to Ireland to keep Tara sweet and then seduces women in the city, bringing them back here to his impressive house. Why else would he not tell Owen and Ben about Tara, and why else would they know that he has loads of sex? I shake my head. It doesn’t feel right. Not at all. It’s not how I remember my Noah, and I never imagined he’d be capable of acting like that.
I pull on my dressing gown and tie it around me. He had the heating on earlier and he’d lit the huge, rectangular open fireplace in the living room that floated between the two walls dividing the dining room from the living room. He kept telling me about the flume and the solar panels and how he’d help to design one of the most ecologically-friendly houses in Yorkshire. I wasn’t really listening. I was flicking all the switches and sitting on one of the three sofas in his living room while staring at the biggest television I had ever seen in my life.
But what surprised me the most was the décor. I had been expecting greys and blacks and lots of white. I had been expecting clean lines and unwelcoming colours, but I was wrong. Each room felt like a completely new home. I could easily imagine a family of seven living here, just as happy as a lone couple.
The living room was a mixture of soft creams, browns and bright, spring greens. His Kitchen was modern but had the ‘lived-in’ look about it. Chunky oak cupboards wrapped around the room, complete with the latest sparkling white granite worktops. All of the rooms downstairs had under-floor heating. I wish we’d had those in our house growing up. There were loads of times that we’d be dancing around the house, trying not to put our feet on the floor because of how cold it was.
I walk down the U-shaped staircase, trailing my fingers along the spines of the books, and head straight into the kitchen. Opposite of the door is an entire wall full of bi-folding glass doors. Noah pulled them all back earlier to show me the deck and the veranda that felt like an extension of the kitchen, rather than an outside space. It must be amazing in the summer, to sit and eat breakfast at the table with the door all the way open while looking at the view.
I slip my feet into a pair of green wellies, trying not to think about who else has had their feet in them, and step outside through the single door. The cold wraps around my bare shins and slithers up my spine. My teeth start to chatter almost immediately. I wrap my arms around myself, wishing I had something a bit more substantial than my dressing gown on, and stare out into the darkness.
“Tara, will you just calm down? I’m not changing the plans. The flights stay the same.”
I try to ignore the deep stab of jealousy that streaks through me and flatten myself against the wall. I can’t see him. I look down at myself in my nightie, dressing gown and wellies and decide that I’m definitely going to look like more of an idiot than him.
“Yes,” he huffs. “No. I’m going to have to go back now, my break is over.”
He’s pretending he’s at work? What a git.
“See you next week,” he says, and then I hear footsteps getting closer.
Shit. Fuck. I look around, but I won’t be able to get back into the house without him seeing me anyway.
“Ariel,” Noah says. He’s clearly surprised, but he does a good job of hiding it.
“I’m sorry,” I say in a rush. “I didn’t know you were out here. I, erm, just wanted to get some fresh air. The room was cold.”
“The room was cold so you came outside into the minus one wind to get some fresh air?” he says slowly. “In your nightie?”
I look down at my bare legs and then back up at him. “I wasn’t eavesdropping. I didn’t know you were here until you started talking and then I was trying to figure out how to sneak back in so you didn’t know I’d heard but then you ended the call and now here you are.”
“Breathe, Ariel,” he says with a smile. “I believe you.”
He takes a step towards me and ends up right in front of my face. He’s taller than me so he has to look down at me to maintain eye contact. I stare at him and wonder why I’m feeling like I am.
“You don’t have fun,” he says, matter-of-fact.
“E-e-excuse me?”
“You don’t have fun,” he repeats. “You don’t live your life. You’re waiting for something to happen, and it might happen and it might not, but in between you’re not doing anything. You’re working and sleeping and nothing more.”
“How would you know?” I snap.
“I’ve been watching you,” he says.
“Yeah, because that’s not creepy or anything.”
He shakes his head and leans around me to open the door. “If we�
�re going to do this, then let’s at least do it inside.”
I follow him into the kitchen and sit down on one of the white leather-covered chairs.
“I’ve known you for seven years,” he says, sitting opposite me.
I laugh. “You knew me for a couple of months seven years ago,” I say, “and you’ve known me for about three weeks this time. You don’t know me at all.”
“I do,” he says. “I know enough to know that you were hiding something then, and that you’re still hiding and running from the same thing now. And I know that it’s slowly killing you. You’re not moving on. You’ve never moved on and it’s because of whatever this thing is.”
“You’re in the wrong job,” I say sarcastically.
“Yes,” he agrees, “I am. Because what’s the point of being able to fix broken hearts if I can’t fix my own?”
I have nothing to say to that. I want to ask him if he’ll fix mine for me too.
“I used to think you were really pretty,” he whispers, staring down at the table. “But now you’re utterly mind-blowingly beautiful, Ariel. I can hardly look at you.”
“Noah,” I sigh. “Please don’t.”
“I hate how you confuse me,” he tells me. “I hate that you make me question everything, and I hate that you make me vulnerable. You’re the only person who’s ever made me feel that way.”
I swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat. I can’t imagine what’s going through his head right now. He doesn’t know the truth, yet he’s still admitting these things to me. He must be so confused. “Stop, Noah.”
“Why?” he asks. “So we don’t have to do it all again? So you don’t have to come up with some bullshit excuse about possibly disappearing on me?”
“No,” I say, “because I’m not a good person.”
“Yes, you are. You might have made some stupid decisions when we were younger, but who hasn’t?”
I shake my head. I want to tell him he’s right, but I know I can’t do this with him until I’ve beaten some of my demons. I wasn’t fair to him all those years ago and I intend on doing it the right way this time. “It’s more than that.”
He sighs loudly and glares at me. “My life hasn’t been the same since I met you, and it certainly hasn’t been right since you left.”
I look up at him through my lashes and shake my head. “That was all seven years ago, Noah. Who isn’t letting go now?”
He pauses and looks at me as if I’ve just kicked him in his balls. “You said you loved me and that you always will.”
I nod, feeling like a complete cow because of what I’m about to do. Noah is right and he’s always been right. “I do and I’m certain that I will, but you need to stop talking.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t know everything about me yet. I know you don’t like me now and I also know you’ll like me even less when I tell you the truth.”
“Ariel—“ he begins.
“Stop it, Noah. Whatever it is you’re about to say or whatever you’re thinking, just stop it. Please.” I can’t bear to hear him saying nice things about me, not when he doesn’t know what I did yet. “I don’t want to hear it.”
He scowls at me and pushes back on his chair. Then he stands up, banging his knee on the table as he does so, and glares at me. “Goodnight, Ariel.”
I hang my head until my forehead bangs against the table.
Chapter 25
THEN
Secrets And Lies
I open my eyes and I immediately know that I’m in a hospital. Even though I know I’ve probably been asleep for a while, I feel groggy and tired.
“Miss Miller?” says the doctor.
I blink at him, but the light seems far too bright so I shut my eyes again. “Yeah?”
“How’re you feeling?”
I open my mouth to answer him, but in that moment, Noah crashes through the door. My eyes flash open and I take in his panic-stricken face as he strides towards me, grabbing my hand in his. “Ariel,” he huffs, “are you alright?”
How did he find me here? “I’m fine,” I say. “I’ll be out soon. Why don’t you go and make sure we have food.”
Noah blinks at me, looking confused, but then he turns and notices the doctor in the corner. “Doctor,” he says, “is she alright? What happened?”
The doctor glances at our joined hands and nods at Noah. “Are you Miss Miller’s partner?”
“Yes,” Noah says.
“Miss Miller will be fine,” he says. “She was pregnant, but unfortunately the fetus developed in her fallopian tube instead of her womb. As the pregnancy developed, it stretched the tube and caused it to rupture. That’s why Miss Miller collapsed earlier. We’ve had to perform an emergency operation, and as a result of the rupture, Miss Miller has lost her right fallopian tube.”
“I’ve lost my tube?” I ask.
“I thought the nurse already explained it all to you,” the doctor says, looking horrified.
“I just woke up,” I say.
“She was pregnant?” Noah asks.
Oh, God. This is it. The end of my life as I know it. The end of Noah and me.
“How far along was she?”
“It wasn’t yours,” I say quickly.
Noah’s eyes go wide in his head. “What?”
“The baby wasn’t yours,” I repeat.
I look up at the doctor and see him shuffling his feet. “If you feel well enough, Miss Miller, then I think I’ll come back in a little while. I apologise for—” He glances at Noah.
“It’s really okay,” I say.
He nods. “Do you need anything?”
I nod. “Please, may I have some water?”
He smiles nervously. “I’ll have a nurse bring you some.”
“Thank you,” I croak.
Neither of us says anything until the doctor is clear of the room.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Noah says, letting go of my hand. “You don’t get to act all polite and grown-up now.”
“I’m tired,” I tell him. “Let’s talk tomorrow.”
“Are you fucking insane!?” he shouts and starts to pace. “You’ve just lost a baby,” he screams at me, “one that wasn’t mine, and you want to go to fucking sleep and talk about this tomorrow?!”
I’ve never been scared of Noah and I never thought I would be, but I’ve never seen anyone this angry before. Not even my dad when he caught Michael smoking pot in the shed. “They’ve operated on me, Noah. I’ve had drugs.” I need to get him away from me. I can’t be around him right now.
“The baby wasn’t mine?” he asks, glowering at me.
I shake my head. “No,” I whisper.
“So you cheated on me?”
“What? No.”
“Don’t fuck with me, Ariel,” he spits. He’s so angry I can see his jaw twitching. “How the fuck were you pregnant with a baby that wasn’t mine if you’d only slept with me but hadn’t cheated on me?”
“It’s complicated,” I answer. “I can’t think straight now.”
“You need to explain how you’re pregnant,” he demands.
“Were,” I say. “I was pregnant. I’m not anymore.”
“Sorry,” he hisses, but I know he isn’t really sorry. “How were you pregnant? You told me you were on the pill.”
“I didn’t,” I say quickly. “I never told you that.”
“Yes, you did,” he says. “We were in your house on Christmas Eve. I was worried about not using a condom and you said you were on the pill.”
I shake my head. “I never said that,” I tell him. “I only said it was fine.”
“You told me you were on the mini-pill just this morning!”
Oh.
He pauses. I can see the wheels turning in his head. “You were fine,” he repeats. “You didn’t need to go and take the morning-after pill because you already knew you were pregnant, didn’t you?”
I nod. He’s a clever boy.
“You let me fuck you
into next week when you were pregnant with another man’s baby?!”
I nod.
“But you were a virgin,” he says. “I felt you and I saw the bed afterwards.”
“Yes, I was,” I say.
He pushes his hands angrily through his hair. “So what was it then? An immaculate fucking conception?!”
I feel my eyes fill with tears. “I can’t do this now, Noah. I’m too tired. I don’t even remember any of what you just said.”
“You’re messing with my head on purpose,” he says. “You’re fine.”
I close my eyes. “I’m not fine. I feel sick.”
“Don’t you fucking dare!” he hisses. “Were you on your period and just too embarrassed to admit it at the time?”
“No, I was a virgin,” I tell him truthfully.
“Ariel,” he warns. “Do not insult my intelligence.”
Maybe I should tell him. If I’m willing to give up Noah to keep my secrets, then my life isn’t really worth living anyway, is it? “I’m not,” I tell him. “I’m telling you the truth.”
“It’s impossible. It’s fucking impossible. Human biology makes it impossible,” he shouts.
I shake my head. I want to tell him. I can see how hurt he is, and I can feel the pain and confusion resonating off him. But my brain just won’t let me do it. “It’s not,” I say. “And I really am tired, Noah.”
“Fuck you,” he says.
I open my mouth to say something, but he spins on his heel and barges out of the door.
“I love you,” I whisper, even though I know he can’t hear me. “And I’m sorry.”
I’m sorry because that’s the first time I’ve ever said it and he didn’t even hear me. And I’m sorry because it’s the last time he’ll ever see me.
I put my phone back onto the side table and squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I lean forward to pick up some paper and a pen that a nurse got me earlier on and begin to write Noah a ‘Dear John’ letter. I know it’s not very nice of me, but my plane leaves in eight hours and I won’t have time for anything else. I can’t be with him anymore. He’ll constantly demand the truth and I can’t give it him. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to give him that, so I might as well leave him while he hates me. At least this way he’ll let me go easier.
Noah and Me Page 19
