Ricochet (11 page)

“Stay,” I repeated and pulled back to stare at her. “Please?”

“OK.” She brought me down to her.

My heart jumped. “OK.”

“Tell me something no one knows about you,” I whispered, running the tips of my fingers up and down Noelle’s spine. I’d asked her a few asinine questions already—learned she didn’t have a favorite color—but I wanted more.

Morning snuck up on us, but we ignored our phones and sent away anyone who came to my door. We were both in favor of staying in rather than dealing with our friends.

Letting out a soft, tired laugh, Noelle lifted her head from where it rested on my chest. “There’s nothing.”

That was bullshit. Everyone had something they kept secret from those closest to them. And since it was weird how important this was to me, knowing more about her right that instant, I was happy and relieved she didn’t push for an explanation of why I asked. “There has to be something.”

She didn’t respond for a while, and I could tell the wheels in her head were turning. She hummed and looked away.

“I can tell you something about me.” I hoped the reward would be her telling me one of her secrets. Her cheek moved against my chest, and she smiled widely. “I’m glad things didn’t go the way I’d planned.” I hadn’t expected that to be my confession, but I was glad Noelle was one of the first to hear it spoken.

She nestled her cheek—warm and slightly damp from
postcoital sweat—further against my chest. “What did you have planned, exactly?”

“I’d planned on getting married.” I paused for her reaction—a hitched breath, a hum, tensing—but got nothing. “It didn’t work out.”

“Did she say no?”

“I didn’t get a chance to ask.”

Minutes passed before she responded in a voice so low I strained to hear her. “I’m happy.”

“Thanks.” Hoping to keep the mood light and not act like a little bitch and be hurt by her comment, I snorted and poked her side. “Glad to know my failed almost marriage brings you joy.”

“That’s not what I meant.” She wiggled away, giggling. “I mean I’m happy. That’s my secret.”

“Yeah?”
I rubbed my hands down her back and cupped her ass.
“Why are you happy?” For a second, I hoped I had something to do with that. Her mood swings were annoying, but I couldn’t deny this girl brought me some happiness. Especially when her guard was down and we were being us.

“You know that guy
.? My ex, Justin?”

I pursed my lips and nodded. Yeah, I remembered that fucker well. I remembered wanting to clock him for his smart-ass comments.

“I spent years wrapped up in him. School, dancing, being with Justin—that’s all I worried about for what felt like forever.”

I wasn’t enjoying this story so far, hearing about how obsessed she had been, and possibly still was, with her ex.

“I thought I had everything planned out, too. But in a three-month time span I graduated and broke up with my boyfriend. It was like everything changed. In the blink of an eye, I left behind two of the most important things I’d known.”

Hearing a bit of a break in her voice, I held her tighter.
She didn’t sound emotional, just … I didn’t know.

“I was devastated. I was. But it didn’t take long for me to realize I felt like that because everyone expected me to be. But I’m happy. I loved to dance. I even loved Justin at one point, but every day that passes is a day that brings smiles and a sense of contentment I didn’t realize I was missing. So, there you have it.”

She straddled me and stared blankly. “I love I’m a dance teacher and not trying to travel around the world doing shows. And I love I got out of that relationship even though it wasn’t a bad one per se. Just not for me. You’re the only who knows that. There’s no way I can tell my best friend I don’t miss being with her cousin or tell my mom I don’t miss being on stage every day.”

“Hey,” I whispered and sat up to cup a hand under her chin. I wanted to look her in the eyes to make sure she didn’t hide what she felt. It was weird hearing I was as much of a rebound to her as she was to me, but it made a lot of the things she’d said and done make more sense. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Thank you for asking. It felt good to get it off my chest.”

I kissed the curve of her chest. She shoved me. “What?” I chuckled and fell back. “You’re the one who brought up breasts.”

She giggled, falling next to me. “I said ‘chest’.”

Ah, same thing.

The rest of the day was spent in our own bubble. With the exception of emerging to have dinner with everyone, we hid out in my room where we made love against the dresser, on the bathroom sink, in the shower, and in the bed. We talked a lot, too. But we never ventured back to talk of our exes. I got the impression things were
n’
t as smooth with her and Justin ending as with Ari and me. Our break was a clean split while Justin dropped by on birthdays unannounced and uninvited. Despite that thought, the day was close to perfect. I would
n’
t worry about the
m—
our exes. In my mind, they were nonfactors.

As the weekend came to an end, I kept trying to think of ways to get Noelle to give me a sure sign she wanted more. There were subtle hints like when
I’
d catch her giving me a flirty glance, but nothing so obvious I was 100 percent sure of what she wanted. Shit, I had no idea what I wanted other than one real date.

In the car on our way home, Noelle
leaned her head against the seat and closed her eyes. I linked our fingers together and then did the same. When she didn’t pull away once we were away from the vibe of Foxwoods and close to being back to reality, I took it as a good sign. I decided I would say something once there weren’t nosy ears around.

Back at Corey’s house, everyone shuffled out of the car. Some were dejected, others just tired. Noelle and I were still wrapped in some of our bubble.

Noticing the tension between the girls, I offered Noelle a ride home. It was an excuse because I wanted to spend more time with her.

“No, that’s OK.”
She smiled, watching Erica and Corey embrace, and then scrunched up her face.
Warren helped Lonnie put her things in a waiting cab. Teresa was already inside the car stewing. “We came together, we should leave together. Plus, girl talk, you know?”

No,
not really.

I didn’t get it, but the sense of obligation in her voice and the set of her shoulders let me know there was more to her statement than my male mind would ever comprehend. Still, I scratched the back of my neck and said, “Understood.” Unsure how to broach the subject, I jumped right in. “Have dinner with me.”

“What?”

“Dinner. Go out to dinner with me.” It wasn’t the most romantic way to ask, but I was never good with that part. The motions to take behind closed doors—what to do, what buttons to press to get her to scream my name—was one thing, but with this stuff, I had no idea.

“That’s sweet, but you don’t owe me anything, OK? You won’t be hurting my feelings if—”

“I think you’re misunderstanding something. I’m not inviting you because I feel like I owe you anything.” I shook my head, but I expected the hesitance, expected her to stand firm and protect her heart. “Noelle, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head for over a fucking month. Trust me. This might sound selfish, but dinner is definitely, 100 percent for my benefit.”

She shuffled her feet and huffed. “Miles, don’t say that if—”

“I’ve missed you.”
I grabbed her hand.
“I made the mistake of letting you leave without taking your number and asking you out the first time; I’m not doing that shit again. I want to spend more time with you. Outside of you know … Just go to dinner with me. Please.”

She opened her mouth several times, and each time nothing came out. I was sure she was going to say no, and I thought my heart was going to stop. I shoved my hands in my pockets and stared at the ground. Even if it was a no, I was prepared to stand there all day waiting for an answer.

She stepped closer to me. The smell of her perfume wafted under my nose.
I tilted my head up slightly, looked into her eyes,
and grinned despite my nerves when she blinked.

“Yes.” A wide smile spread across her face.

“Yes what?” I needed to hear it.

“Oh stop.” She let out a soft laugh, poking my sides. “Yes, I’ll go to dinner with you. Of course.”

I was so damn excited; someone might have thought I had just proposed.

After exchanging numbers, finally, I gave her a soft kiss and promised to call her in a few days. I was full of shit; I’d be calling her that night.

The drive to my house felt different. I felt lighter. Dare I say, happy and kind of hopeful, too?

Warren, on the other hand, looked drained.

“Rough weekend?”

“Holy shit!” He slumped over his steering wheel. “Your girl was giving me the side eye all weekend.”

She was
?

“When was that?” And why hadn’t he mentioned that before? “We were barely with you guys.”

“Well, the few times you were.”

I nodded to let him see I was listening but couldn’t comment since I’d barely paid attention to that. Plus, I think he was exaggerating. The way Noelle and I were up each other’s
asses, who had time to give
anyone
looks?

“And the way Teresa was looking at Lonnie?” He shook his head at me. “I’m fucked in so many ways it’s not funny.”

“Would you fucking pay attention to what you’re doing?” I grabbed my seat belt.
Should’ve had that on from jump.

“That’s OK.” He focused on the road, tapping his finger against the steering wheel. “I mean, technically I didn’t do anything wrong but—” He fidgeted in his seat. “Teresa better not fuck this up. I’m serious.” That wasn’t what he was going to say.
The change in his voice made that clear.
“This is the most legit I’ve felt about London. We’ve never been more solid.”

I whipped around to face him and shoved his shoulder, making Warren swerve. Nearby, a car horn blew.

“Sorry,” I said, not sorry at all. The tone of Warren’s voice, him calling Lonnie by her real name and being so nervous and twitchy meant one thing. I smiled. “You know I think this is a bad idea, right?”

I was joking. He knew it. But I couldn’t wait to give him shit the same way he did me when we were sitting in Lena’s Jewelry Store all those months ago. Damn, that was a whole lifetime ago.

“Fuck off,” he said with a laugh. The conversation phased out a bit. Warren’s voice took on a more serious note when he asked, “What about Noelle?”

“What about her?”

“I heard you ask her out. Sounded official. You ready for that?”

I shrugged. I didn’t think
me and Noelle were anything yet. We had too long to go, too much to learn about each other before I could worry about any of that label shit.

“What do you think’s going to happen?” Warren asked.

He was focused hard on this topic. But it didn’t annoy me. His questions were helping me sort shit out. I indulged him, asking, “With what?”

“I don’t know. I feel like there’s a shift in the air.” He sighed. He was getting a little too melodramatic. I had to shut it down.

“Yeah. There is a shift in the air. It’s called fall. The seasons are changing.”

I turned on the radio, needing to break up the sudden tension. It was just commercials and talk radio, but at least our voices weren’t the only ones floating in the car.

“I’m serious.”

He didn’t have to say that. I already knew how serious he was.

“To answer your question …” I pulled out my phone, wanting to check my text messages. I wondered if it was too much, if I’d seem thirsty, desperate, if I texted Noelle so soon. “Anything can happen, really.” I set the phone down, deciding against contacting her. I could wait; we had time. “I mean, I know the whole thing started because of your dumb-ass rebound theory—”

“It’s not dumb.” He smacked the steering wheel. “And it’s not a theory. I already told you I—”

“Speak facts and drop knowledge. Yeah. Yeah.”

“Seeing I was right all along, I would think you’d be more grateful.” He laughed and shook his head but kept his focus on the road.

I did the same. The scenery passed in a blur. Bright, lively green trees mixed in with those that had already shed their leaves. Warren was right in a way. It felt as though things
were
changing, coming full circle in ways neither one of us had planned.

Warren would be engaged soon. That was a fact. If Lonnie stuck with him this long, loved him despite all the ways he’d fucked up, saying no wasn’t in the cards.

And me … I had no clue what was next, if anything would come of my date with Noelle. She was more than a rebound. Time would tell if I was more for her.

“All right! All right!” Noelle giggled, trying to push me away.

“All right what?” I asked, unable to hide my smug smile. Settling between her legs, I laced our fingers together and raised her hands above her head. Her next step would be to tickle me—her usual method of fighting dirty—and I was glad to stop that before she had the chance. “Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m—” She pursed her lips and looked away, but I could see her fighting a smile.

“We both know how this is going to end, Noelle,” I said, trying to keep a level of warning in my voice. It would end the way it always did: me forcing an apology out of her one way or another. “It’s best to surrender now. We don’t have a lot of time.” I reached down, grabbing hold of myself to line us together. I needed more of her, always had always will; I was quick to pull away when she winced.

"Shit! Are you OK?”

"Just a little sore," she whispered and burrowed deeper into the bed.

I was torn. I knew, somewhere deep within, the best thing to do was to stop. The overexcitement and slight aggravation because we’d have to spend the night apart had me a little rougher, than usual. And though she loved it—loved that I never felt the need to downplay my exuberance and playfulness with her like I did in my last relationship—the pained looked on her face told me I might have gone too far this time.

“Sorry.” I leaned away from her, rolled onto my back, and brought her to curl into my side. “I think I’m just nervous—anxious.”

“I am, too.” She nodded, wrapping her arms around my middle.

"Stay." I pouted and held her tight. "I don't want you to go."

“If I don’t go someone, probably your sister, will be knocking on this door lecturing us about traditions.”

Yeah, yeah.

“It’s all bullshit if you ask me.” I rolled my eyes and scoffed a little. “The bride and groom can’t see each other before the wedding. Who made that shit up?”

Noelle shrugged, but the tension in her shoulders let me know she was far beyond thinking about us having to spend the night apart.

“What’s wrong?” I poked her side. “You’re really nervous?”

That would be a first. Since I dropped to one knee—almost seven months ago now, and the third anniversary of the day she agreed to go on a date with me—she’d been nothing but excited. Wedding planning, trip planning, future baby planning … the whole thing gave me a fucking headache, but I loved that it put a smile on my girl’s face, so I endured it. And by enduring, I mostly sat on the sidelines and let Noelle, my mom, and Lena work out every little detail down to the rings.

Every day was something new.

“Oh, babe, wouldn’t it be funny if we did our reception at Guilt?” The club had changed names, yet again.

“Wouldn’t it be hilarious if we just went to Foxwoods and got married there?”

“Corey can be our DJ! No never mind, I want him to be able to
enjoy
wedding.”

Fuck me!
I was glad this was all about to end tomorrow. Now that all the planning stuff was over, I assumed part of Noelle would be sad.

So for her to be nervous now … I gulped and shifted to sit us up. “Are you, um, is everything OK?”

“Yeah, I mean it will be when tomorrow is over.”

“When you’re Mrs. Bedford?” I smiled, hopeful yet still skeptical about her current demeanor.

“That too, but mostly because then I’ll know the day is over.” She paused for a moment then turned to face me head on. “I keep worrying that we’ll have unwanted guests.”

Oh man.
“Guests?” I narrowed my eyes, calling her bluff. “Or one guest?”

“No. Guests—plural. You know how people are.”

Yes, I did. And after almost three years together I knew how she was, and she was lying.

“Noelle.” I crossed my arms over my chest in anticipation of what was bound to come next. I didn’t want to go there but she needed to get it off her chest. This, however, would be the last time we ever broached this subject again. My fuck up that almost ruined everything.

“Just say what you have to say, please.” And then I’ll say what I need to lay any lingering doubt to rest once and for all.

“You don’t think Arianna will crash, do you?”

I was prepared for that and quickly fired back. “Do you think Justin will?”

“I’m not the one who went back to my ex.” Noelle pointed to her chest with her shoulders squared and nostrils flaring. “Have you forgotten?”

“I didn’t go back to her.” I jumped off the bed and started pacing. It wasn't that simple. As soon as I got back home from Foxwoods I’d picked up my phone to call Noelle. Unfortunately, there was a text message from Arianna saying that she wanted to talk to me in person—she had wanted to say to my face what she couldn’t get out over the phone.

‘Your new girlfriend
isn’t
welcome,’ the text had said. ‘This doesn’t concern her.’

Like a chump, I agreed to meet with her. And like I chump I believed her when she told me she was pregnant. And she was, after all; it just wasn’t mine. It had only taken a couple months for her to break and tell me the truth: she had been sleeping with a colleague of Warren's for over a year and that the baby was his. The whole thing did some serious damage to the relationship I had wanted to start with Noelle.

I had seen and spoken to her daily, but never mentioned a pregnant ex-girlfriend. At the first whiff of this, Noelle stopped talking to me—rightfully so, but it hurt like hell.

We’ve since made amends.
All of us.

I forgave Warren for not telling me—not making it clear why he’d lost so much trust and respect for Arianna. And Noelle, after demanding a DNA test to prove I wasn’t the father because Arianna flip-flopped on her story, forgave me.

At least for the most part.

There were times, though they have been few and far between, that I’d catch her looking at me with uncertainty. When I would ask what was wrong, she'd hit me with a too-sweet-to-be-real smile and say, “Is there anything I should know? Anything you want to tell me that I wouldn’t want to hear from anyone else?”

“I’m sorry that I hurt you back then,” I said, and stopped my pacing. “But I swear there’s nothing else. You know everything about me. Everything.”

“I believe you.” She rushed her words out and looked at the ceiling. “I'm just emotional and scared for no reason.”

True.
She was, but I wasn’t dumb enough to agree with her out loud.

It had been over a year since I’d gone to battle over this topic, and I had no idea why she would have any doubts since I was giving her my name in the morning, but I said the only thing I could think of at that moment. Something I always did whether things were good or bad. During smiles shared over breakfast or a fight where I was sure she was seconds away from walking out the door.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” she asked, though the small smile tugging at her lips let me know she knew exactly what I was about to say.

“Thanks for leaving with me that night.” Dropping my voice to an even softer whisper, I added, “Thanks for the dance.” But there was more I wanted to say, more that could open up a can of worms I didn’t want opened the night before our wedding, but it felt natural, too. “Thank you for sticking it out with me. Thank you for being my best friend during the time I wasn’t sure if I could trust mine.”

“Miles.” Her voice sounded broken, and I knew then she took a wrong turn down memory lane right along with me. But we wouldn’t go there. We went through our trials and tribulations.
Our ups and downs with crazy exes. Our moments of doubt, and moments of “Will I ever be more than just a rebound?”

“Thank you,” I said again.

“Don’t thank me.” She pulled me to the bed and straddled me, smiling with a playful smirk. “Maybe you should thank Warren.”

Warren?
“What does he have to do with us getting married tomorrow?”

“Well, if he hadn’t put all that Rebound Effect nonsense in your head.”

“Oh, God!” I widened my eyes, but then burst out laughing. I hadn’t heard that bullshit in years. I wasn’t sure I wanted to revisit it, either. “Babe, whatever you do, please don’t remind him about that.”

At her grimace, I knew it was too late. She had already said something—probably thanked him for bringing us together in his own way, and I would never hear the end of it. I was sure he’d be bringing it up during his best man speech the next day, too.

But that was OK. I did owe him a little bit. After all, his dumbass theory helped ricochet me to the happiest I’ve ever been, with the woman I was supposed to be with all along.