Page 10 of Where We Fall

“Liar,” I bit out. “We both know what this is about.”

The burn of rejection.

“I have no reason to lie,” she said loudly.

“You never needed a reason. I’ll swing by around three to pick Phoebe up.” I quickly disconnected the phone and set it down on my nightstand before doing something stupid—like chucking it across the room.

Dexter

It had been too soon.There was no way Noa would agree to it. But even as I stood on the threshold of her apartment, nervous because she hadn’t answered my calls all afternoon, I felt so sure.

Why waste time when it was inevitable? Noa was going to be my wife. For me, this was going to happen whether we waited five minutes or seven more years.

I smiled to myself as I knocked, telling myself to get on with it.

No answer.

A few moments later, the elevator stopped on her floor and I turned to see her carrying a white box, heartbreak written all over her face.

She wasn’t alone. A woman was with her.

But I wasn’t worried about her friend in the least.

What’s wrong?

I wanted to just flat out ask Noa, but I still held out hope that this would go perfectly. She’d see me and smile. She’d walk inside, tell me what happened, and we’d get her over it—together. And when she finally smiled…I’d ask her.

But she saw me, and there was no happiness.

Immediately, her companion was on the defense. I hadn’t heard her angry words, my focus solely on Noa—who still hadn’t smiled at me. She said a few words, her gaze no longer on mine, but not on her friend’s either.

The woman beside her—the owner of the art gallery that showcased Noa’s work—left us.

I noticed the flicker of regret in Noa’s eyes just before she let us in to her apartment. That box in her hands, she held onto it like it was a fucking life preserver. It unnerved me.

I walked in behind her, watching as she sat down on the couch, the box still in her hands, propped on her lap.

“I had no idea you’d be in town,” she said.

“Probably because you haven’t been answering my calls for the last hour. You’ve been crying. Why?” Fuck finesse. I wanted to know what was wrong.

My hands were in my pockets, my right hand fondling the wooden box that held the ring I’d had made especially for Noa with my first few months’ pay at my job.

That was what love did. It made you unreasonable, a romantic with a target pointed right at your heart. Even three years ago, I had it all planned out.

But I could feel in my gut that this was about to go terribly wrong.

From the moment Noa stepped off the elevator, she wasn’t someone I knew. And I didn’t know how to maneuver with this person.

“Just a tough day,” she said, and I remembered what a lie sounded like on her lips. Like she was trying to convince herself as well.

So, I asked the next question on the tip of my tongue. “What’s in the box?” I nearly chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. But something tells me not to. “You’ve been holding onto it for dear life since you got here.”

She looked down and whispered, “This box will kill us.”

The room started spinning.

In my mind, nothing could kill us. We defied death; we were transcendent.

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