Amanda turned to him on the bench. “Noah. He basically called me a slut.”
“What?” He jumped to his feet, a burst of raw energy coursing through him. Everything in him recoiled. Nevermind—that was not some argument between brothers that Amanda didn’t have to fret over. As soon as he saw Luke, he was going to—
“I mean, he didn’t say that exactly,” Amanda said quickly, pulling on his sleeve. “But it clearly was the idea.”
His heartbeat, which had shot up like the gun going off at race, slowed—but only a drop. “Tell me what he said.”
She swallowed. Looked away. Looked back at him, but she couldn’t keep his gaze.
“That you’re just using me for a good time before you leave,” she said, her voice a hoarse, flat monotone that made his heart crack. “That you’re confused and rebounding after Kristina. That I’m not girlfriend material anyway. So sure, whatever. He hopes we have fun screwing around until you get something better.”
He sat down again, his legs giving way underneath him.
“Amanda,” he said.
“It’s okay. I know it’s true.”
His hands clenched by his sides. He wanted to hug her, hold her. Reassure her that everything Luke said was bullshit and they both knew it.
But it was like there was a force field around her. Or maybe it was around him; maybe he was the one who was closed off. She’d already pulled away once. He couldn’t bring himself to reach for her and get the cold shoulder again.
“It’s not true,” he said vehemently. “It’s just Luke.”
“I know,” she said. “And I get it. He’s jealous, hurt, betrayed, whatever. We knew this was coming and that we should have said something from the beginning instead of sneaking around. But…”
“But what are we, in order to tell him.” He supplied the rest of the sentence when her voice caught and she couldn’t finish.
What were they when they started? How did they know when this began to change? What were the right words to tell Luke when they hardly knew what to say between themselves?
Finally, she shifted toward him. But when she lifted her eyes to meet his, there was none of the spark there, the energy and light and creativity and Amandaness he’d come to associate with her.
“But what are we,” she echoed, in a way that sounded…sad. Like she already knew the answer and didn’t want to hear it.
“We’re—” He started, but then he didn’t know what to say. Everything felt both too big and too small for this park bench, this afternoon, this one single moment on which too much had come to depend. “We’re having a really good time together.”
It was the wrong thing to say. He knew it immediately. She leaned forward on the bench, away from him, and he felt the wall between them grow.
“Yeah,” she said. “We are.”
“And it’s been a surprise,” he went on. “How much this has come to mean to me in such a short time.”
“Me, too,” she said, elbow on her knee, her chin resting in her hand.
“And I want to enjoy that without forcing it.”
She nodded. Slightly.
It sounded like they were saying nice things. At least it should have been nice to tell her this meant something to him and to hear she felt the same.
Except their voices didn’t sound like that. Their faces didn’t look like that. She looked miserable. He could only imagine that he did, too.
But what was he supposed to do? Get down on one knee after a month together and announce that he was going to give up L.A., give up the closeness he’d always had with the one constant person in his life, give up the stable job he’d worked hard to find? Give up the whole next chapter in his life, the one he’d been planning for and counting on for longer than he’d shared a bed with her?
How could he announce such a monumental change to a woman who right now wouldn’t even look at him?
Who wasn’t getting down there in the trenches with him and saying, “I want this. I need this. Stay.”
And even if she did do that, say that—was it even a good idea?
It’s only been four months since I could barely peel you off that couch. He heard Luke’s warnings echoing in his mind. How recently Noah had thought his life would be with Kristina. How he was in no position to be making huge life changes yet again.
How much Luke had given up to move with him, and the pressure not to let his brother down.
For all that Luke had sounded angry that morning, it wasn’t anger—not really. Noah knew because he knew his brother’s face almost better than he knew his own.
Hurt. The look on Luke’s face had been hurt.
He’d hurt his brother, and now he was hurting Amanda. Everyone he was close to, everyone he tried to do right by. It felt like all he did was mess up. Unable to make a commitment or break one. No clue what was the right thing to do.
“I have to go back to work,” Amanda said, jerking him out of his spiraling thoughts.
He looked up. “You didn’t eat anything.”
“You can have my sandwich. I’m not hungry.”
He tried to protest. He tried to come up with something—anything—to say. The words that would draw her back to him, draw her near, and show how much he wanted her. No matter how complicated life was.
But she was already walking away, leaving him sitting there on the park bench on what should have been a beautiful day.
He made himself eat, but he barely tasted anything. All he could see were his own shortcomings, the way he’d said too little, too late. And the way she’d given him so little in return.
If she didn’t love him. Or even if she did, a little, if it was buried too deep for her to access. If she couldn’t say it, didn’t want to say it, had whatever reasons to hold those words back. The details didn’t matter if the result was the same.
If she wasn’t about to say she loved him…then how could he change all his plans…for a maybe? How could he disrupt his whole life for a question mark, a bitten lip, a shrug?
How could he turn away from his brother for someone who didn’t know what she wanted or if what she wanted was him?
He’d gotten too wrapped up in a relationship before, thinking he had his whole future mapped out with one woman. If an eight-year relationship could disintegrate like that, how could he do the same thing all over again after only a month?
It wasn’t over—she hadn’t said that. But they needed time to cool off. All three of them.
It’ll be okay, he tried to tell himself.
He didn’t know how he’d survive if it wasn’t.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Amanda ran down the path with her head down, barely looking where she was going. Tears slid down her cheeks, but she couldn’t make them stop. All she knew was that she had to get away.
Away from Noah, away from Luke, away from her desk, away from the park, and away from the hole that had blown through her heart.
She didn’t have a plan. She couldn’t even think. But her feet carried her to the subway, and on autopilot, she rode the train home to Brooklyn.
For once, she was grateful for the crowds of the city at all hours, how it didn’t matter that it was the middle of the afternoon and people should have been at work. There were still throngs everywhere. She could sit on the subway as it rattled along and wonder what they did all day, whether they were unemployed or worked the night shift or freelanced or whether they, too, had just had their hearts squeezed to a pulp until they popped.
Of course she’d known Noah was leaving. That was the whole reason she hadn’t wanted to get close.
But then she’d gone and fallen for him anyway. Fallen for real. Fallen all the way in.
And now he was leaving her anyway. Not just geographically for L.A., but even further. Because even though they’d been sitting right next to each other
on that bench, he might as well have been on the moon.
At least New York was a city of eight million assholes, so no one offered her a tissue or asked what was wrong. No one so much as glanced her way.
It was better that way. She didn’t want to have to explain herself or deal with anyone’s pity. Relationships ended. Didn’t she know that? She’d been here a thousand times before, riding the subway home alone after a shitty date, a shitty text, a shitty stretch of silence that she already knew meant “the end.”
But this one felt different.
Unless maybe it was just that she’d wanted it to be different. Had she been kidding herself this whole time? She’d been upset when she met Noah in the park, but not with him. With the things Luke had said—her worst fears paraded about for everyone to hear.
And Noah hadn’t done a single thing to make it better.
It wasn’t like she’d expected him to get down on one knee and promise himself to her forever. But was it too much to have hoped for something?
The reassurance that Luke didn’t know what he was talking about. That they meant something. That she meant something. That they would find a way.
She didn’t want him to come out against his brother. She wasn’t looking to put him in the middle or force him to choose sides. There shouldn’t even be sides to choose, and she knew in some way that Noah was right—Luke would get over it.
But she still wanted to know that she counted.
Her phone vibrated as the subway rattled over the Brooklyn Bridge. When she saw it was Noah, she clutched it without knowing what to do. She didn’t want to cry on the phone with him or figure out what to say when her head was still reeling.
And she didn’t want to hear him say definitively what she already knew—that she’d been foolish to hope for something more. That what they had was wonderful, but he had the rest of his life to live, and so did she, and they’d known that going into this, and, and—
She silenced her phone.
She never should have let this get so out of control to begin with. She’d known better than to come between two people who were so close. And she’d known Noah was in no position to commit. She could be mad at him all she wanted, but she had only herself to blame.
When she got to her apartment, no one was home. She collapsed on the couch. She wanted to text someone. Her friends. Even her mom would understand.
But she didn’t.
All the times she’d gone on and on about Luke felt embarrassing now. Why would anyone believe her when she said this was different? That those feelings for Luke, which she’d thought were so real, had been nothing. When she said this was real, and this was heartache, and this was hurting, it would sound so silly after the last three years of pining.
Besides, her friends were in relationships. Bitching about men with happily coupled people was miserable. Bitching about them with her mother, who’d only say, “I told you so,” was worse.
She had to keep it together, keep it inside. As her roommates came home from work, she puttered around and made meaningless chit chat about nothing, glossing over her day like oh, it was fine, I went to work but decided to come home early since it was nice out and there was nothing major going on.
If anyone noticed the lie, or her red eyes, they were too polite to mention it. Eventually, one of them asked, “Where’s that hottie who’s always around?” But Amanda was in the kitchen and pretended she didn’t hear.
Cheerios was an acceptable dinner for a full-fledged adult living on her own and in no way, shape, or form dependent on anyone else, right? What about Cheerios in her pajamas at six p.m. in her room with the door closed?
At least she wasn’t drinking her sorrows. She’d seen her mom go through enough margarita mix to know that wasn’t going to make her feel better the next day.
So she thought she was doing okay. At least pretending to go through the motions of something resembling surviving.
Until the buzzer rang.
At first, she ignored it. Probably someone else had gotten a package. Then she heard, “Mandy, it’s your hottie!”
She put her cereal bowl down on her desk—or, more accurately, on a stack of papers on top of a book on top of some other crap on top of her desk—and zipped up a hoodie over her pajama shirt. “What?” she asked, opening her bedroom door.
But she knew what. Because, of course, her roommates had buzzed Noah in. She could hear him climbing the stairs to the apartment. She could hear him knocking on the door.
Crap.
Here she was, wearing unicorn pajama pants at six p.m., hugging her sweatshirt across her chest because she wasn’t even wearing a bra. Opening the door to Noah’s disheveled hair, his sweet dimple, the concern in his eyes.
She stood in the doorway feeling like a fool.
“What are you doing here?” she said quietly, not wanting everyone in the apartment to hear.
“You aren’t answering my calls. You ran off, and Luke said you never came back to work. I was worried about you.”
“I’m fine,” she said. Like she wasn’t wearing her pajamas speckled with Cheerio crumbs.
“Can I at least come in?” He’d never asked her that before. But he’d never had to. It had been a given. Her apartment, her bed, her life. He was part of it all.
Only it didn’t feel like that anymore.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” she said.
He looked shocked.
Which made her shocked. What did he think was going to happen—that he could waltz in after the day they’d had and everything would go back to normal, the way it was before she found out his brother had trashed her and his response was to remind her they were “having a really good time?”
“I just want to talk,” he said.
But that was the problem. She didn’t “just want to talk.”
She wanted to talk and cuddle and have sex and be the little spoon sometimes and the big spoon other times and tickle each other under a mountain of blankets and watch Netflix and eat ice cream out of the same container and do a million things together large and small that somehow added up to make up a life.
But Noah wanted a friendly little chit chat. And then he wanted to leave.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t.”
Noah may have been the king of self control, but he couldn’t mask the confusion on his face. For a second, all she wanted was to draw him close and feel his heartbeat where she pressed against his chest. As long as they were near each other, she wanted to believe it would be okay.
But they couldn’t be near each other—at least not after next week. And so she didn’t budge.
“Why are you moving, anyway?” she asked. “I’m not telling you not to. I’m just trying to understand why when you don’t even seem that excited about it.”
“It’s something I set up before any of this happened.”
She knew that by this he meant her. Them. Whatever was or wasn’t going on between the two of them.
“I know,” she said. “But things change.”
We’ve changed.
“I can’t just not do what I said I was going to. Luke’s counting on me.”
“Luke’s an adult who can figure things out without you.”
“He’s my brother,” Noah said. Which seemed entirely unnecessary, because it wasn’t like Amanda could forget. Not because they looked so alike—that was only superficial. But because they acted like one unit. When she’d wanted her own friendship with Luke, Noah was always around. But now, she couldn’t have her own relationship with Noah, because Luke came first.
“Do you think he’d do the same for you?” she asked. “If he met a woman he wanted to be with, do you think he wouldn’t find a reason to change his plans faster than you can say, ‘Where’s a condom?’ Luke’s the one who calls plans ‘guidelines.’ You
know that better than I do. Luke’s excited about L.A. He’s excited about PlayStation. He doesn’t need you handling the lease and the movers and everything else that you do. So come on, Noah.” She took a breath. “When are you going to stop being his keeper and start living your life?”
She knew she was pushing too hard. She could practically see him bristling in front of her. But this mattered more than anything, and she couldn’t just let it go.
“That’s not what it’s like,” he said, his voice sharp. “I’ve known him my entire life. I’ve been with you for a matter of weeks.”
“So, what are you saying? We haven’t been together long enough for you to know if you like me?”
“Of course I like you.”
“But not enough.”
“Amanda, it’s not about that.”
“Then what is it about?” She was honestly trying to understand.
“It’s complicated,” he finally said.
“I thought we’d talked about this. I thought L.A. wasn’t set in stone.”
“Yeah, but—”
“But Luke. Right. How could I forget?”
The whole thing was so alien to her. Not that she couldn’t keep a promise. And the whole reason she had to stay in New York was because of her family, too.
But didn’t Noah understand that life wasn’t some fixed progression from point A to B, where nothing ever changed and nothing unexpected happened? Didn’t he understand that plans changed?
“I’m not saying never,” he said.
“Then what are you saying?”
“It would depend on the circumstances. You’re asking me for some hypothetical, and I can’t give you that. If things were different? If it was the right situation, then maybe I’d—”
He stopped abruptly. He must have seen the tears starting to spring from her eyes.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said.
“Yes, you did.” She swallowed hard. She didn’t want to cry over him. She didn’t want to shed any more tears for someone who wouldn’t do the same for her.
Wrong Bed, Right Brother (Accidental Love) Page 15