The Best Man: Part Three (FINAL) (6 page)
Read The Best Man: Part Three (FINAL) Online
Authors: Lola Carson
* * * * *
Noah stares at himself in the mirror. He looks good; refined. He looks like a man who’s about to get married to a gentleman.
The hotel’s full of guests, over two hundred of them. In less than half an hour, Noah will be standing before them all, all those strangers, and committing his life to Connor.
On what’s supposed to be the happiest day of his life, he feels nothing but a hollow hole in his chest.
He tried calling Patrick all night, got nothing but voicemail. He didn’t leave him any messages; had nothing to say. If Patrick wasn’t answering, then clearly he didn’t want to know.
Whatever it was between them, it’s over.
Noah’s left with this now: this wedding, this man, this marriage.
He can already see his life stretched out before him; a big, gaping expanse, forever unfilled.
He’s empty, and he’s got nothing to lose with this union.
“You don’t look too happy for someone about to marry the love of his life.”
Noah startles so much, the breath knocks out of him. He spins around, and Patrick’s stood there, gazing at him, and right now he’s the most beautiful sight Noah’s ever laid his eyes on.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, fighting every instinct to rush forward and throw himself into Patrick’s arms, beg him to take it all away.
Patrick steps forward, approaches him, slow and cautious. “I couldn’t leave without making sure you knew you had another option here.” He stops before Noah, ducks his head down to look Noah in the eye. “You don’t have to do this, Noah.”
There’s a band of steel around Noah’s chest, tightening, constricting him.
“I do. I’m already here.” His voice holds a hint of mania. “This hotel’s full of Connor’s closest friends and family, waiting to watch me marry him. He’s spent so much—”
“None of that matters,” Patrick says, cutting him off swiftly, fiercely. “You have to make this decision for yourself. Not for him, and definitely not for me. For
you
. Do you understand?”
Noah’s voice, when he speaks, is pitiful, weak. “I haven’t got a choice.”
“You’ve always got a choice. You don't love him,” he says, and there’s sudden fire in his eyes now, a burning passion. “You feel indebted to him.” He takes Noah's face in his hands and forces their gazes to lock, forces Noah to confront this truth. “You love
me
, Noah.”
Noah can’t speak, can’t breathe, can’t get a single straight thought to settle in his head.
“I’ll be in the theatre for the next hour,” Patrick continues in the face of Noah’s silence, “and then I’m leaving to catch my flight. It’s up to you.”
“The theatre…what theatre?”
“The one for sale near your apartment.”
There’s footsteps in the hall, heading for this room, and Patrick presses his forehead to Noah’s for an instant, mutters, “I’ll be waiting for you,” before he releases him, stepping away.
Lenny comes in, eyebrows lifting as he surveys the scene before him. “Patrick. Shouldn’t you be off seeing to your own best man duties?”
“Yeah, sorry,” Patrick says gruffly. “Just had to give a message to Noah here.”
He shoots Noah a final look full of meaning, and then he leaves.
Lenny looks at him in confusion. He’s got two champagne glasses in his hands and Noah swipes one, downs it in one swallow, grabs the other and then collapses into a chair. His ears are ringing, and his heart’s thundering, and he feels like he’s made of glass—as if someone could push him over and he’d shatter into a million pieces.
“Noah—” Lenny kneels down in front of him, his face a picture of concern.
Noah stares at him, and he knows he looks insane, his eyes wild and desperate. There’s a war going on inside him, an agonising battle of emotions and instincts, and only one thing is coming to the forefront, one perfect image of clarity.
“I can’t do this,” he whispers.
Lenny puts a hand on his knee. “Noah, come on.”
Noah gets up suddenly, the champagne glass slipping from his fingers, that clarity building within him stretching, expanding, filling him with the crystal-clear certainty of what he must do. There’s only one way to go here, and it’s not down the aisle and into a marriage.
Before he even knows what he’s doing, he’s left the room, Lenny calling after him. He ignores him, and he gets in the lift, and suddenly he’s in front of Connor’s room. He turns the door handle, a strange sensation of calm washing over him, and he steps inside.
Connor knows before he even opens his mouth. He stares at Noah in the mirror for an endless time, and then he turns to look at him, his eyes full of hurt and resignation. “He’ll break your heart, Noah,” he says, tone heavy and tired.
Right now Noah’s heart is breaking for Connor. He feels like the worst kind of person; in a twisted way, he deserves to marry Connor, live the vague unhappiness of marriage with him, the not-quite-passion of the rest of their lives. He doesn’t deserve what Patrick gives him, not when he’s hurting Connor so much.
But Connor doesn’t deserve
him
. He’s worth so much more.
“That’s my lesson to learn,” Noah says, and he steps in closer. He doesn’t try to touch Connor, but he looks him in the eye, faces up to what he’s doing. “You’re a good man, Connor,” he insists, and he means it, so very much. “I want you to be happy. I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you needed.”
“I didn’t need you to be anything.” Connor’s eyes are watering, and he grimaces as he tries to fight it. “I love you for who you are,” he adds, a broken note to his tone that has Noah aching for him.
“I love you too.” It sounds so weightless now, a consolation, but he does mean it. He’s never doubted his feelings for Connor. “I really do.”
Connor nods, wipes the back of his hand over his eyes. “Just not as much as you love him.”
He’s not going to deny it. Connor’s entitled to the truth now.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
Connor stares at him for a long, long moment, and Noah almost wants to hear him shout, bellow at him, tell him what a deplorable person he is.
But he doesn’t. He turns his back, and he goes over to the dresser, and he sits down. Dignified. “Just go. I’ll deal with all of this.”
Noah doesn’t do him the disservice of staying any longer, witnessing his heartbreak. He leaves, and he shuts the door quietly behind himself, his heart heavy and his eyes itching with tears.
And as he slumps back against the opposite wall, the heavy weight of Patrick’s cross jolts against his chest, beneath his shirt, and suddenly he’s running, sprinting through corridors and down stairs, out into the snow, looking left and right up the street for a cab. There are wedding guests all around him, looking at him, muttering behind their hands; someone calls out to him, and there are footsteps approaching him from behind, but a cab pulls up before anyone can ask him what he’s doing and he gasps, “Town, please—the high street,” to the driver, tells him to go, quick, before it’s too late.
He makes it to the theatre and the door’s unlocked, nothing inside but silence and emptiness. He charges up the stairs backstage and bursts into the office like there’s a fire behind him, half expecting to find Patrick not there, that he’s already changed his mind.
But he is there, sitting in this office that’s empty save for the chair he’s in, the desk he’s sat behind, and the sofa pressed against one wall. He looks up, startled, at Noah’s dramatic entrance, and everything about his face says he can’t believe it, that Noah’s really here, with him.
Noah stands there breathless, his heart hammering out of his chest, staring at Patrick, who’s staring back, frozen, waiting.
“Say it,” Noah begs. “I need you to say it.”
Patrick gets up very slowly, and he comes around the desk, and he approaches Noah, and he says without hesitation, his voice low and rich with sincerity, “I love you.”
A breath rushes out of Noah, and his knees threaten to buckle, and he gets his hands fisted in the front of Patrick’s shirt and he clings on.
Patrick brings his hands to Noah’s face. They’re trembling, and the touch is gentle and reverent against Noah’s cheeks. “I love you, Noah,” he says, softer this time, tremulous, thick with the emotion Noah feared he wasn’t capable of.
“What about your life,” Noah asks, “America—”
Patrick pulls away from him, and Noah almost whimpers at the loss, hands reaching out for him. But he doesn’t go far. He collects two thick stacks of documents off the desk and brings them to Noah. His hands are still shaking, and his eyes are swimming with moisture, and Noah can’t believe this is happening.
“If I sign this,” Patrick says, holding up the first pile of stapled documents, his voice cracking and straining, “I own this theatre. And if I sign this,” he continues, holding up the second, “I move into that empty flat above your shop.” He drops the documents onto the sofa beside them and gets Noah’s face in his hands again, steps in close and looks at him as if he’s looking at his entire world. “And if you’re with me on this,” he whispers, thumbs tracing over Noah’s cheekbones, “I’m not going anywhere.”
Noah’s so full of emotion, of relief and happiness and love, he can’t do anything but pull on Patrick’s shirt to bring him in closer, feel his heat and breathe him in and get his head around the fact that this is it now, this is his life, Patrick’s
his
.
“Do you really think you’re ready to settle down?” he asks, because he has to be sure before he takes that final step, that leap of love and faith.
“Yes,” says Patrick. “If you’ll have me.”
There’s no longer an ounce of doubt left in Noah’s mind. He leans up to him, drawn in like a magnet, and Patrick meets him in the middle. And they kiss, soft and slow and unhurried, because they have time now, all the time in the world, and Patrick’s kissing him like he’s worshipping him, like he will spend the rest of his life making Noah feel this beautiful rush of exhilaration.
“You know what we need to work out now,” Patrick says an eternity later, looking down at him.
“How to build a relationship out of this craziness?”
“No,” says Patrick. “What we’re going to name this place.”
Noah laughs, and Patrick gathers him up, hugs him to his chest like he never wants to let him go.
Epilogue
Noah has an emotional goodbye with Connor when he goes to collect his things. Patrick isn’t thrilled about Noah going there alone, isn’t sure of Connor’s temper, but Noah feels certain it’s safe, he’ll be fine.
Connor tells him he’s moving to Liverpool, that the work is better there, and he gives Noah the deeds to the coffee house, says he put it in his name. They hug for a long time, and Noah reiterates his previous statements, that he’s a good man, and he deserves someone truly special. Later he watches from inside the shop as Connor and Patrick have a discussion, and Connor puts a hand on Patrick’s shoulder, says something that has Patrick nodding, his face very serious. They don’t hug as they separate, but Patrick comes into the shop wearing a soft smile, and Noah gets the feeling everything will be okay in the end for them, that this isn’t the complete end of their friendship.
He moves back into his flat with Julie the next day, feels an overwhelming sense of home as he puts his belongings down on his bed, looks around with warmth filling his chest, even as Julie bellows at him to go to the shop for milk because there’s none for tea.
When Patrick’s stuff ships over from America, Noah helps him move out of the hotel he’s been staying in and into his new flat, and they make love on the floor in the middle of the living room, then on the stairs, and then twice in one of the bedrooms before they even think of opening any boxes.
“You know you can move in here whenever you like,” Patrick tells him. “There’s plenty of space.”
“I know,” Noah says, curling around Patrick’s body, “but I’m happy with Julie for now. It’s my home. Besides,” he adds, smirking, “you haven’t even taken me on an official first date yet.”
Patrick takes him out that night, and after they make out in an empty doorway like old times, and then have quick, desperate sex in the car when they park by a river to watch the stars. And when Noah breathes, “I love you,” into Patrick’s neck, he feels it right down to his bones, every facet of the emotion filling him and swelling within his chest, heating through his veins. Patrick looks into Noah’s face and says, “I love you too,” and Noah can see everything he feels mirrored in Patrick’s eyes, and he glows with it.
End
