by Donna Hill
Her breathing hitched in her chest as if she’d been running. What was he doing here? How did he find her? She felt paralyzed. The old fear had taken hold and held her in place. What should she do? She dug her phone out of her pants pocket. Her hand shook as she began to tap in Noah’s number, but when she looked again out of the window, Jason was gone and all she got on the other end was Noah’s voice mail.
* * *
“He was really outside?” Cara said, tugging off her damp coat and hanging it on the coatrack. She took off her boots and walked barefoot into Traci’s living room.
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes! You don’t think I know Jason when I see him?” she yelled.
“Okay, okay,” Cara said softly. “I’m sorry.” She went to the kitchen, got two glasses, and poured them each a glass of wine. She handed Traci her wine and they both sat down.
“Any idea how he found out where you live?”
Traci tucked her feet beneath her. She slowly shook her head. “Been wracking my brain for the past hour.”
“You think Loretta would have told him?”
Traci’s face tightened as she sipped and sipped her wine. Loretta Palmer was her mother and she never understood how Traci could have left a “good man” like Jason. He worked hard, took care of the home, had a nice car and a fat bank account, and he didn’t run around, she’d ranted when Traci told her that she was leaving him. It didn’t seem to matter to Loretta that Jason abused her daughter. “Sometimes a woman had to ‘make concessions’ to keep a good man,” she’d said. “If I had, maybe your no-good daddy would have stayed.” From that moment to this one Traci hadn’t spoken to her mother other than on the requisite holidays.
“It’s the only explanation,” Traci finally said. “After he saw me that day by the pier, he probably called her. And knowing how charming Jason could be, and how tone-deaf my mother is, she probably gave my address to him, thinking she was doing some kind of good.” She rolled her eyes in disgust.
Cara pushed out a breath. “Well, you can’t stay locked up in the house.”
“I know that,” she snapped. She squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m sorry . . . again.”
Cara held up her hand to dismiss the unnecessary apology.
“I’m not going to let him run me out of my house. Not again.”
“Well, for the time being, you’re staying with me. He’s not out there now. Pack a bag, get your school stuff, and we’ll go to my place.”
* * *
A little more than an hour later, Traci was settling into Cara’s guest room. When Noah called her as usual for their late-night chat, she never mentioned what had happened or that she was at Cara’s apartment and not her own. If he could have secrets, then so could she.
Chapter Eleven
Thanksgiving had arrived. Noah had convinced Traci that he was hosting Thanksgiving at his loft and she could invite whomever she wanted. Since the night of Jason’s appearance on her street, the previous week, Traci had not returned, at least not alone, and she offered no explanation to Noah why he couldn’t come over. Instead she stayed at his place and pretended that all was well with the world. Yet, every sound made her jump. She was constantly looking over her shoulder whenever she went out and her body stayed in a state of high alert. None of which was lost on Noah.
“You want to tell me what the hell is going on with you?” Noah finally asked after she’d nearly leaped out of her skin when he came up behind her to kiss her.
“Nothing. You surprised me, that’s all.” She continued chopping the tomatoes and cucumbers for the side salad. Everything else for the very elaborate meal, as Noah promised, had already been taken care of by him. The entire loft was filled with the aromas of a Thanksgiving feast.
He clasped her hand to stop her movements. She wouldn’t look at him. “T, talk to me. What is it? You’ve been somebody else for days now.” He paused and then slowly the real possibility dawned on him. “Has he bothered you again? Your ex.”
Her nostrils flared. “No.” That much was true.
“Then what is it, baby? Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
She cranked her neck to the side and stared up at him. “Maybe I’ll tell you when you finally tell me what’s really going on with you, where you vanish to every Sunday, and why, if I ever dare to ask about it, you evade a real answer.” She folded her arms defiantly and waited.
“Whatever you’re thinking, that’s not what it is.”
“Humph.” She snorted a laugh and turned away.
Noah blew out a frustrated breath and briefly shut his eyes. “Traci, look . . .”
The doorbell rang. The guests had arrived.
“We’ll talk about this later.” He tossed the hand towel on the counter and went to answer the door. The first to arrive was Anthony and his lady friend, Jessica, who was a dead ringer for Alicia Keys. Before they got settled, the bell rang again. This time it was Anthony’s cousin Myra, and her latest significant other, Aaron Clark, a broker on Wall Street whom she’d met during her company’s fund-raising gala. Traci had invited Cara and Phillip, but they’d committed to going to Phillip’s family’s house upstate.
“Get settled, everybody, and put in your drink orders,” Noah cheerfully announced after he’d made the introductions. “Whatever you want, we got it.”
“This is a fabulous place,” Myra said, looking around the mammoth space, with its all-the-way-to-heaven ceilings and enormous windows, which looked out toward the Williamsburg Bridge and the Manhattan skyline. It was furnished straight from a page in Architectural Digest. After he’d opened his fourth CoffeeMate in lower Manhattan, he’d had a decorator come in and turn his echoing cavern into a warm and inviting living space with earth-toned furnishings, rugs strategically placed, small sculptures on tables and in nooks, and dazzling paintings on the walls. Traci always wondered how in the world he could afford something like this, and Myra sidled up to her to ask the same question.
“Girl, this place is . . . I don’t have words,” Myra said. “This has got to cost a pretty penny and I don’t care what kind of deal he got,” she whispered through her teeth.
Traci often thought the same thing, but kept her opinions to herself. At the moment, even if she did want to engage in speculation, she didn’t have it in her today. She had more pressing issues weighing on her, like what in the hell was really going on with Mr. Perfect?
“What can I get you, ladies?” Noah asked while he put an arm around Traci.
“Wine is fine for me,” Myra said.
“Me too,” Traci murmured, and subtly slid from his hold. She walked, along with Myra, over to Jessica, who was looking at one of the paintings. The three women made small talk while Billie Holiday’s “God Bless the Child” played in the background.
After a round of drinks and seafood appetizers, the couples made their way to the kitchen, where a meal fit for royalty was laid out from end to end on the long counter and the side tables that Noah had set up.
“Buffet style, folks. So help yourselves and dig in,” Noah said. “Load up and then come on over to the dining area.”
Once everyone was seated, they held hands and Noah blessed the food. Then it was Anthony who injected one of his family’s traditions: Everyone had a chance to say what they were thankful for. Anthony was thankful for his health, good friends, and the success of his business. Jessica was thankful that she had a great family. Myra was thankful for her health. Aaron was simply thankful for his six-figure job and that the recession had receded. Then it was Traci’s turn.
She ran her tongue across her lips. “I’m thankful. . . that we’re all here today,” she said solemnly.
Noah looked at her, but she wouldn’t look back. He cleared his throat. “Well, I’m thankful that I didn’t burn the turkey or the ham.” Everyone around the table laughed. “But, seriously, I’m thankful for my friends old”—he eyed Anthony—“and new, and most of all . . . I’m thankful that Traci wa
lked into the CoffeeMate, into my life, and made me a better man. I can’t imagine my days without her.”
Traci looked at him from beneath her lashes. Her eyes filled, but she sniffed back tears. That was as close as he’d ever come to declaring how he felt about her. But the pessimist, the wounded Traci, saw it as a ploy to sweet-talk her into forgetting about their standoff in the kitchen.
“Now let’s eat!” Anthony declared.
For the next few moments the only sound other than the music was the clicking of silverware and moans and sighs of delight at the meal.
They were just about finished when Aaron lifted his fork and pointed it in the direction of Noah. “You said the CoffeeMate earlier.”
Noah looked up from his plate. “Hmm, ummm.”
“I thought I knew you, but I wasn’t putting it together at first. You’re the Noah Jefferson.”
Everyone at the table turned their attention on Noah.
“What do you mean?” Traci asked.
Noah tried to wave it off. “It’s nothing.” He stared hard at Aaron, who clearly did not get the memo.
“This brother is the founder and CEO of one of the most successful coffeehouse chains in the Northeast, outside of Starbucks.” He grinned as if he’d just hit Lotto.
Noah’s jaw clenched.
Anthony lowered his head. “Shit,” he muttered.
“CEO?” Traci was trying to process the information. “What is he talking about?”
“We’ll talk about it later. Not important,” Noah said. “Hey, refills, anyone?” He stood.
Anthony picked up on his cue. “Yeah.” He held up his glass and nudged Jessica, who, in turn, asked for a refill as well.
Traci turned all her focus on her near-empty plate, but she wasn’t eating. She suddenly pushed back from her seat, picked up her plate, walked into the kitchen, and confronted Noah.
“Are you going to tell me what he’s talking about?”
“Traci . . . we’ll talk. I’ll explain everything. I promise. But not now.”
“What else haven’t you told me?” she pressed.
Noah pushed out a breath. His voice rose. “Not now.”
Reflexes caused her to flinch.
He reached out to touch her and she drew away, turned, and walked out.
“Traci!”
She kept walking.
When she returned to the dining room, she announced that she wasn’t feeling good and would have to cut the evening short. “I’m really sorry, everyone.” She looked around the table and offered a tentative smile.
Noah returned as Traci was at the closet to retrieve her coat. He came up to her and spoke in an urgent whisper. “Traci, don’t do this. Whatever you’re thinking, that’s not what it is.”
She snatched up her coat. “You have no idea what I’m thinking.” She put on her coat and took her purse from the closet shelf. “You’re no different from the rest.” She pulled open the door and walked out.
Noah didn’t bother with his coat and went out behind her.
“Traci, wait.”
“Noah, go back to your guests and leave me alone.” She hurried off and pushed through the building door and out into the street.
For several moments Noah stood in the frame of the doorway, then turned and went back inside.
When he returned, the festive mood was nowhere to be found.
“We’re going to get going, too,” Myra said. “Thanks for a wonderful dinner.”
Noah’s smile was forced. “Sure. Thanks for coming.”
He walked Myra and Aaron to the door. “Thanks again.”
He returned to the dining room and began collecting the empty plates. Anthony followed him into the kitchen, leaving Jessica in the dining room.
“I won’t say I told you so . . .”
“Then don’t,” he snapped.
“What did she say before she left?”
Noah’s jaw clenched. “That I was just like the rest.”
“Ouch. Well . . . give her a minute to cool off, then call her. You need to just be upfront.”
Noah didn’t respond. He loaded the dishwasher.
Anthony clapped him on the shoulder. “It’ll work out.”
“Yeah,” Noah grumbled. He didn’t really think so.
Chapter Twelve
Traci walked for about five minutes with no cab in sight. By this time it had started to snow lightly. What was she thinking by walking out like that? She was anxious about going back to her apartment, but she had no choice. Before Cara left to go upstate, Traci had told her that she would be staying at Noah’s place. So much for that. She kept walking and realized that for the most part she was the only one on the street. This was the height of the Thanksgiving evening and everyone who had family or friends was gathered around a table or in front of televisions enjoying the company. She was alone. Her eyes burned. Her throat tightened. Her instincts told her from the beginning that it would be this way. It always started out good.
She had at least six more blocks to walk to her apartment and the snow was coming down harder and faster. She paused on the corner for a few minutes in the hopes of spotting a cab. No luck. She tried Uber and all the drivers were busy.
By the time she came up on her street, she was a cold, wet, crying mess. She quickened her pace, with her head bent against the swirl of cold and snow. She just wanted to get inside, get out of her wet clothes, sit in a hot tub, and forget about this day and Noah.
Traci looked up at the windows of her building. No lights were on. No one at home. She dug in her bag for her keys when she was grabbed by the arm and spun around. Her bag went flying. Her gasp caught in her throat.
“Where’s your boyfriend?”
“Get off of me!” She tried to pull away, but his grip grew tighter.
“We need to talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Us. That’s what there is to talk about. I’m not done with us. I don’t care what the court said.”
Her heart raced. Her eyes darted around, looking for an out.
Jason held her arm and reached down, pulling her with him to pick up her keys. “Open the door.”
Once he was inside, there was no telling what he would do. He pushed her toward the door, and then the next thing she knew, the grip on her arm was released. She spun around and Noah had Jason on the ground.
“I told you once before to stay away from her!” He reached down and grabbed Jason by his coat collar and raised his fist to hit him again.
“Noah. Don’t! It’s not worth it.”
Noah flashed her a dangerous look from over his shoulder before shoving Jason back to the ground. “Stay down,” he ordered, and pointed a warning finger. “Go on upstairs,” he told Traci. “Leave this door unlocked.” His tone left no room for argument.
She fumbled with her keys, hesitated, then opened the door and went inside. When she reached her apartment, she was shaking like a leaf. She sat on a kitchen chair, afraid to move as the scary scene replayed in her head. If Noah hadn’t shown up when he did . . . She didn’t want to even think about it. A shiver ran through her. She wasn’t sure how long she’d sat there, but the knock on her door jerked her to the present.
On wobbly legs she went to the door and peeked through the peephole. Her heartbeat slowed. She unlocked the door. For a moment Noah simply stood there, staring at her. “Are you all right?” he asked from between clenched teeth.
She nodded and swiped away the tears of fear and relief.
Noah pushed out a breath and gathered her in his arms. “I swear if anything would have happened to you . . .” His jaw clenched and he squeezed his eyes shut.
She wept openly, shaking and sobbing in his arms. Noah managed to usher her inside and get her out of her wet coat. He sat opposite her on the side chair, while she curled in the love seat.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“There’s nothing to thank me for. I should have never let you leave by yourself in the f
irst place.” He paused. “Did he hurt you? Did he threaten you?”
“Not physically. He insisted that we needed to talk, and that our relationship wasn’t over, no matter what the court said.” She sniffed and hugged herself tighter.
“He won’t be bothering you again.”
Her troubled gaze jumped to look at him. “What did you do?”
“Don’t worry about it. He won’t be back. I promise you that.”
She didn’t have it in her to debate the point. For now all she could muster was to take him at his word. After what just happened, her reason for leaving Noah’s loft in the first place seemed insignificant. Especially in light of the fact that had she told him that she’d spotted Jason outside of her apartment, and that she’d been staying at Cara’s simply to “pay him back” for his missing Sundays, none of this would have happened. Warning bells rang in her head. She was doing it again, blaming herself. If she was ever going to move on with her life, in any real way, she knew that she was going to have to get beyond that. Old habits are the hardest to break.
Traci sat up a bit in her seat. “I’m sorry about running out like that, and I’m sorry for not giving you the space that you asked for. But I don’t want to be lied to . . . even lies by omission. I need to be with someone that I can trust. And it’s really hard for me to make that leap. I don’t want to always hold my breath waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’m tired of being afraid of my own voice, my own wants, and living on the edge with the belief that if I say anything, ask for anything, want anything . . . I’m going to pay some kind of price.” Tears welled in her eyes again. “I just can’t.”
Noah rested his arms on his thighs and linked his long fingers together. He lowered his head for a moment, then looked across at her. “Look, I don’t know where our relationship will eventually go, Traci. All I know right now is that I want to give it a real shot and that means being up front about some things.”
Traci wiped her eyes.
“Aaron was right about me. I’m not the manager. I own the CoffeeMate franchise. There are twenty locations, so far, along the Northeast. No one knows. Well, no one that I work with, except Anthony, of course. When I’m away on Sundays, I’m usually at one of the locations or at the new enterprise that I’ve been working on in Philadelphia.”
