Noah

Noah

Copyright © 2016 by Cara Dee

All rights reserved

Disclaimer:
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with others, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction. All references to ancient or historical events, persons living or dead, locations, and places are used in a fictional manner. Any other names, characters, incidents, and places are derived from the author’s own imagination. Similarities to persons living or dead, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of any wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction.

Warning:
This story contains scenes of an explicit, erotic nature and is intended for adults, 18+. Characters portrayed in sexual situations are 18 or older.

Edited by Silently Correcting Your Grammar, LLC.

Formatted by Rachel Lawrence.

Dedicated to Lisa.

For the adventures, the laughter when I needed them the most, and the memories I'll cherish forever. I still want to pour soy and water into a Diet Coke bottle and see your reaction.

Part I

Chapter 1

Noah Collins

I was usually exhausted after a day of traveling. I'd woken up in New York, flown to LA to pack some essentials at my place there, and now I was home. Mendocino. Northern California, where the summers were stunning enough to knock the air out of your lungs, where I was away from the Hollywood noise, and where I had my last name painted on an old-fashioned mailbox outside my house.

It was a different world, and tonight, I wasn’t drained. It had been two long months without Emma. I was ready for a spectacular night—me and my girl.

We needed it.

I just had to wrap up the phone call with my sister first.

"Noah, are you even listening to me?" Mia asked.

"Yeah, sure." I got off the interstate, the roads empty in the small town. "You were saying something about jet lag."

Rookie.

My sister lived with her family in Berlin. With Emma and me in Cali, Mia in Germany, and our folks in Pittsburgh, we only got together—all of us—once a year. This time, we were heading for Disney in Florida. I couldn’t give two shits about roller coasters, but it'd be nice for my niece and nephew.

They'd flown in from Germany today, meeting up with our parents in Philly where they'd spend the night, and then tomorrow everyone was flying down to Orlando.

Emma and I would join them in a couple days.

"You can complain when you travel as much as I do," I said.

Mia huffed. "You used to be nicer."

What the hell? "No, I didn’t." I chuckled and adjusted my earpiece. "It's my job to annoy you." But I supposed I could play nice for one night. I was the one, after all, who had called her. "I wanted to check in."

"In the middle of the night?" she whined.

"When you sound like that, I forget you're forty-three," I noted.

"When I see your face, I forget you're forty," she mocked.

Was that an insult?

I checked the rearview mirror and drew a hand over my jaw. Sophie, one of my closest friends, had used the word
distinguished
last time I saw her. I kinda dug that.

"You know what might stop the whining?" I asked. "Moving back stateside. No more jet lag, and you wouldn't deprive your kids of seeing more of their favorite uncle."

"
Only
uncle," she snickered. "But speaking of, we've actually discussed moving back home." That was certainly good news. I knew our folks missed them like crazy, especially the kids. "Makes sense now that Julian's graduated from uni, and James can easily find a good position at the New York office. Or maybe the one in Philly."

"Jesus," I muttered. "Julian's that old already?"

He was James's son from his first marriage, and the kid couldn’t have been more than sixteen last time I saw him. He was always too busy with school and friends to come to reunions.

"Twenty-three," my sister replied dryly. "One might think you'd know, or did you get some PA to send the card to him two weeks ago?"

I winced and made a turn to get onto my street. "There was a gift too, wasn’t there?" But yeah, it was possible my assistant had taken care of it. Last month, I'd been balls deep in post-production.

"Money," she said. "We were hoping to throw him a graduation party in Orlando. We're so proud of him—two majors and all—but—"

"Wait up." I slowed down the car in front of my house, my eyes narrowing.

The driveway was full. Emma's Mercedes was in its place, but there was a brand-new lookin' truck, too. If she'd made another impulse buy, I'd be irritated as fuck.

"Looks like I have a fight to come home to," I told Mia. I killed the engine and sighed. We could catch up in a few days, and I'd see Julian then, too. No need to hear everything about him right now.

"Uh-oh." She chuckled. "What did she do this time?"

I grunted and got out of the rental. "She might've bought another car."

I was torn between anger and feeling like a prick. Emma didn't use to be materialistic, but something had changed this year. We'd argued more, and I'd been gone a lot… I wasn't sure. Then again, every time I asked her to come with me—hell, I'd even offered to take on fewer projects—she wouldn't have it.

Sometimes, it felt like she was picking fights as a way of punishing me, but she was a good person. And maybe I was reading too much into things.

"Uh, Noah?" My sister's voice was tinted with wariness. "You're a day early, aren't you?"

"Yeah, so?" I grabbed my bag from the back and slammed the trunk shut. "I told you—I got all this romantic shit planned. We gotta talk and solve our problems."

"Okay. Yes. Christ, let Sophie and Brooklyn be wrong." She sighed, and I was confused. I didn't know she was that close with my friends. "Just…call me if you need me, all right?"

"Uh, sure." I frowned, but I'd deal with confusion later. Right now, I had to take care of this. "I'll talk to you later, sis. Have a safe flight tomorrow, and we'll see you guys soon."

"Okay, love you…"

"Love you too." I disconnected the call and pocketed the earpiece.

Walking up the pathway to our house, I saw the additions Emma had made in the past two months. New shutters, a porch swing, lawn manicured and framed with new flower beds, and a fucking waterfall next to our lemon tree. Jesus Christ.

I dug out my keys and unlocked the door, and I was greeted by music playing in the living room.

I remembered when we'd just moved here. It was supposed to be our haven away from LA. A place for us to unwind. A studio for her costume design, a study for me when I read scripts. But it had been ages since I saw her passionate about work. Hell, it'd been ages since she worked, period.

"Emma?" I walked farther into the house, and something akin to dread crept up my spine.
Nah, fuck this.
I'd been exposed to too many trashy, clichéd movies. Two wineglasses on the counter meant nothing. "Emma!"

There was a thump coming from upstairs, and I dropped my bag on the floor.
No
. I was about to lose my shit over nothing.

"Noah?" That was Emma's voice, all right. From the stairs, it sounded like. She was breathless, and I hoped I had imagined the panic in her tone. "Is that you?"

I automatically steeled myself, jaw clenching. Fists, too. I prayed I was wrong, and I'd apologize to no end if I was, but…

"Yeah." I rounded a corner and took the steps two at a time. Reaching the landing, I came face-to-face with my girlfriend of four years, and I hadn't imagined the panic at all.

"Y-you're early," she stuttered. "This—this isn't what it looks—I mean…"

My pulse went through the roof.

"This isn't what it looks like? Is that what you're going with, Emma? Huh? Of all the lines in the book, you pick the worst one?"

My stomach churned and twisted. She was wrapped in a motherfucking sheet, and a trail of clothes led to the bedroom door that was closed.
Our
bedroom. Our fucking bed.

"Tell me you fucking didn't," I whispered through gritted teeth.

Holy fuck, this hurt.

Her eyes grew wide and glassy. "I…I…" She had nothing.

Nausea built up, the pain near crippling, but the rage helped me keep my shit together. I pushed past her and ripped open the door, and there he was.

"Noah, please!" Emma cried out.

I didn't know him. Someone from town? Owner of a nice Ford, I bet. Pants on, shirt on the floor.

Jesus fuck
.

Along with the image of his awkward fuckin' expression, I was assaulted with memories. All the goddamn hours Emma and I had spent in here. Every
I love you
, every morning kiss, the laughs, even the fights, and the promises and plans about our future.

"I-I'm sorry, Noah." Emma grabbed my arm, teary eyes pleading with me, but I barely saw her. I didn't recognize her.

"Don't touch me." I coughed into my fist, my throat all but closed up. Vision blurry. Fuck.
Fuck
. My mind was an utter fucking mess, but I managed to jerk my chin at the motherfucker who had screwed Emma in our bed. "Get the fuck out."

Emma was sobbing, but whatever she was talking about went unheard.

The guy scrambled to get his clothes on, and when he reached for—Jesus fucking Christ—a wedding ring on the nightstand, I lost it. My body buzzed with pent-up fury, and I couldn't keep it in.

As he stumbled past me, my arm shot out. I slammed him up against a wall and punched him twice in the jaw.

"Oh my God, stop!" Emma screamed.

"You shut the fuck up!" I shouted, glaring murderously.

She froze in place.

I took a step back, my chest heaving. She'd never seen me this way. Tough shit. I'd never seen her as a two-faced cunt.

I stared at her. Saw the sheets, the messy hair, the smeared lipstick. She'd gotten pretty for him. She'd done her hair and put on makeup for another man. But in that instant, she became so fucking ugly to me.

"Go before I put you in the hospital," I told the guy.

He didn't spare Emma a single glance as he raced downstairs, one hand cupping his face.

I looked away from her. Sickened.

Adrenaline, disgust, hurt, and anger rolled around like a brewing storm inside me. My head was fucking swimming. I couldn’t see straight, and the memories wouldn’t stop flooding in. Four years. She was the woman who'd made me wanna settle down. The only one. I'd enjoyed the life of a bachelor and no strings. No complications. Then she'd barged into my life and changed everything.

"Was it worth it?" I lifted my gaze to her again.

She wiped at her cheeks and stared at the floor. "You've… I… It was a mistake, but you're not innocent."

What the…?

I shook my head, wishing I'd heard that wrong. But it kinda helped. Rather than becoming unglued, something in me died. I grew numb and was able to look at her without either throwing up or getting violent.

A chuckle escaped me, 'cause this was surreal.

"You gotta be kidding me," I said.

She got angry. "No, I'm serious. You're never home, and—"

"One more word." I was in her personal space in an instant, a finger in her face. "One more
fucking
word about my job, and you'll regret it." Her fear satisfied me. It was evident in her eyes. "You gotta make up your damn mind, Emma. You bitch at me for never being at home, but who found my last project? It was you. Who promised me we'd be a team and try to get gigs on the same sets? Also you. But I can't even remember when you last worked. All you do is sit around the house and spend the money I make when I'm gone so much." I grinned darkly and took a step back. "My bad, I guess there's more you do. How long have you been spreading your legs for others?"

She dropped her jaw, looking like I'd slapped her.

It was only the beginning of the shitshow that would sum up my first night home in two months.

*

"You never listen to me!" she screamed.

"Oh, I listen, all right." I glared at her as she started throwing clothes in bags dramatically. "It's kinda impossible not to hear the shit you say; you're always yelling. I listened when you told me you wanted to be the industry's most desired costume designer. I listened when we visited Tennyson and Sophie and you said you wanted this—a nice house away from LA—"

"Ugh, fucking Tennyson and Sophie this, Tennyson and Sophie that!" she ranted. "Do you think I'm blind? You're always comparing us to them. They're your friends, not a relationship guide!"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I was getting heated again. "I've given you everything, and they have nothing to do with this!"

"You haven't given me you!"

"Bullshit! I don't make a single decision without your opinion, and…" I stopped there, thinking back.

Holy hell, I hadn't asked for her opinion when I'd had work out of town lined up. I'd asked for
permission
. For other reasons, that was worse. I'd always been my own man. Sharing my life with Emma had been eye-opening in the best ways, but at some point, I had started obeying instead of having a damn say myself.

And she had the balls to say I hadn't given her all of me?

*

After packing an overnight bag, she moved on to the living room downstairs, and I followed her.

"I've told you over and over what I want, Noah," she said angrily. She grabbed a couple photo albums from her childhood and tucked them into an empty bag. "I want us to settle down and raise a family—away from LA. But no matter how much you say you want me, you can't commit."

"Can you fucking blame me?" I asked incredulously. "You've bailed on everything we've talked about. What happened to traveling back and forth between our house here and the loft in LA? When did you become so caught up in spending my money? Since when did you have to have the latest goddamn Mercedes? What happened to compromising? You didn't bring up children until I turned forty a few months ago, and it was right
after
you had told me to pursue my last project. A kid can't fix us, Emma. And you're outta your fuckin' mind if you think I'm gonna propose when we're having problems!"