Page 69 of Sex. Love. Marriage.
Fearing Noah’s reaction with my mom in the house, alone with us, I invite our friends over for dinner.
“So she didn’t call before she came?” Kate asks, watching my mother in the backyard with Oliver and Hazel.
“No.” Opening the fridge, I take out the steaks and set them on the counter. “I’m not curious because it’s the same thing she always wants. To make me feel bad about marrying Noah and how she thinks I could have done better. Blah blah blah.”
“What a bitch,” Kate agrees, pouring herself another glass of wine. “Maybe we should introduce her to my dad. Yesterday I had to pick him up at the police station because he spit on a Walmart greeter for telling him he couldn’t take his bag of garbage inside the store.”
I fight back laughter. “No shit?”
“Yep.”
Noah walks into the kitchen, smiles at us, and then opens the fridge and retrieves a beer. “What are you guys talking about?”
“My mother and Kate’s dad.”
He grimaces and looks over at Kate and then walks out of the room.
Nothing. Not even a look in my direction. He just turns and walks away.
Rolling my eyes, I take a glance at Kate. “He’s a big fan of my mother, as you can see.”
Kate pushes the bottle of wine in my direction. “Drink, girl. Just drink. Wine makes everything better.”
Kate likes to push alcohol on me, and it’s a good thing I already fed Fin for the night because I’m gonna need this tonight.
Right before we’re going to eat, I walk upstairs to change my shirt because I spilled barbeque sauce on it. Noah’s up there doing the same thing.
“What are you doing?” He turns when I ask the question, surprised.
Closing the door behind me, I step further into the room. He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he turns back around to the closet doors and pulls a dark blue sweatshirt over his head.
“Fin spit on me.”
“Listen.” I notice his face when I begin to speak, walking two steps toward him. He knows what I’m about to say, prepares for it even. “I’m sorry she’s here.”
He isn’t expecting me to say anything. I can tell. “Funny thing about that. I don’t give a shit. I don’t give a shit that she’s here. What I care about is that you seewhybefore it’s too late.”
“Noah.” I sigh, but then I think about what he said. My mother made the days following Mara’s death impossible and drove a wedge further between us. “I know, but please don’t make this more complicated.” I swallow the tears, hoping my fear will go with them, because I know he’s right. He’s always right. I know why she’s here.
Noah stares at me, his cheeks flushed. “Define complicated.” His brow draws together in concentration, rawness and pain evident on his features. He’s remembering just how difficult she made it for me. The way she blamed me for letting her die, like I had any control over it. Blaming me only made it worse for me because I still hold onto so much guilt, not knowing if I did the right thing. If us waiting too long to take her in meant we were responsible for the cancer spreading. That guilt, that burden I carry with me, it will never leave.
“You.” My voice shakes around the word. “You’re complicated. This entire situation between us is complicated. Some days I don’t even know who we are anymore.” I don’t think I meant to say that, or at the very least, out loud. I can blame the glass of wine on that, right?
Noah’s face hardens, his eyes narrowing. “You would say something like that, wouldn’t you?”
“What the fuck does that mean, Noah?”
He swallows heavily, steps toward me and I want to walk out of the room, throw Journal in his face and show him how it feels, because I can’t tell him. I can say these one-liners, even give him snide comments, but when it comes to really opening up, I’m afraid of his reaction and pushing him away even further. So I don’t say anything more.
Noah swallows, leaning in, his breath hitting my face. “I won’t say anything to her, but if she says something to you or our kids about Mara, I’m not going to remain quiet like I did the last time.”
I’ll be honest, I think my mom’s disapproval of Noah is because he’s good for me. She doesn’t want me better off than she was. She’s the type of woman whose motto could have been “misery loves company.”
Noah watches me, then turns to the door, angling his body out of the room. He pauses, his retreat halted. “You look.” He breathes in and I tense, waiting for what might be my breaking point today. His eyes drop to my legs, then return. “Pretty tonight.”
It takes me a minute. I can hear Kate calling for me, but I’m not sure what to think about what Noah just said. After I change my shirt and dry the tears that have started to fall, I make my way back into the kitchen to see Charlee in full cooking mode taking over, and Ashlynn and Bonner have arrived.
Moving around me, knowing where everything is at, Charlee goes to work taking the spinach, butter lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, and cauliflower from the bags to clean and chop them for the salad.
