“What was that about?” Noah asks, coming closer. He hands me a beer that I take willingly. Taking a long drink, I let the cold bubbles start to take away the edge of moving.
“Gwen wants to go out for my birthday next month. Says Rex is throwing some party at Gatsby’s for me that we have to attend,” I explain with my signature eye roll.
“I know, I’m the one that asked him to do it,” Noah says, smiling.
“You? But why? I wouldn’t expect that to be the way you’d want to spend my birthday with me?” I say, shocked and a little thrown back by his response.
“You come alive when you’re in a group of people. Don’t get me wrong, I like having you all to myself. But there is something that takes my breath away about you when we are all together. You steal the show, and damn, it’s sexy as hell to watch knowing that you are all mine.” His confession is raw and genuine. I can’t help but accept it beautifully for what it is—admiration for a quality I didn’t even know I possessed.
“Plus, it’s your birthday! I wanted to throw you a big celebration, marking the first of many we will hopefully spend together,” Noah finishes explaining. He takes a long sip of beer and lets that thought resonate a little further in my brain, the whole time watching me over the top of his bottle.
“Are you already planning our life together, Mr. Stewart,” I tease.
Noah’s eyes shine. He looks at me like he has a secret. It’s a secret I want to know, but if I’m being truthful with myself, I’m afraid to find out.
“If you’ll let me …” He smiles, never taking his eyes off mine. They dance with a sort of mystery and take my breath away.
I was not expecting that kind of remark to come from him, and it takes me a moment to regain my thoughts after what he halfway admitted. Feeling weak all over from the way he always manages to take my breath away, I hadn’t even noticed the air was stolen from me until I gasp to suck in more.
And then it’s back. The burn.
Something deep inside feels off, but I push it away for the first time in almost a month as I stare into Noah’s eyes. I hope it doesn’t show on my face. I’m nervous, maybe, and I fear Noah saw me blanch at his words.
Sure, I had a few fleeing thoughts over the last two months from time to time that involved a white dress and babies, though hearing it from his mouth, so plain and blunt, makes me nervous. It’s one thing to think you are alone in such thoughts, it is quite another to realize they might be reciprocated.
Shakily, I ignore the comment, giving him a smile that I hope hasn’t come across as forced as it feels and turn my attention back to my work, starting to unpack another box of clothing. He gets the hint and doesn’t press the discussion further. Setting his beer down and grabbing me from behind, he nestles into the side of my neck. I moan happily as his lips find my skin, and he begins kissing and nibbling the spots he knows are my most sensitive.
“We don’t have to go if you really don’t want to,” he says, half-suggesting and half-asking.
“If you keep kissing me like that, I’ll do anything you want me to,” I admit.
Noah laughs as he continues his torture. His laugh vibrates on my neck, sending shivers down my spine. I tense slightly with how much it tickles and how it makes me aroused with need at the same time.
“I’m serious, Ev. If you don’t want to go, we can stay home. I can think of a million things I’d do to you here that I can’t do to you there.” Noah’s voice grows hot with passion, and I have to brace myself against a box in front of me. “Then again, I can think of a few things I want to do to you there in a dark corner as well,” he says with a low suggestive growl.
I giggle. “No.” I try to gain some ground and not give into him entirely. “I want to go, it would be … good to see everyone,” I admit through rushed breaths. Noah’s petting slows, and he turns me around to look him in the eye.
“Good!” he says. “Because I want to throw you the best party you have ever had.”
“That might be kind of tough. My dad bought me a pony when I was six,” I tease.
Noah’s mouth actually falls open, undoubtedly having no response for what I just hit him with. Dumbfounded and not knowing what to say, he just looks at me. I start laughing, the joke is obvious to me but not so much to him. He catches on eventually and laughs too.
“Kidding,” I say.
“Phew, you had me sacred there. Ponies are pretty hard to beat,” he says, leaving my side and making his way back towards the kitchen. He grabs an envelope and returns to me standing in the living room. Offering it over, I’m a little reluctant to take it not knowing what is inside.
I stare at Noah for a moment, having no clue what awaits me in the envelope and a bit apprehensive about even opening it to find out.
“Open it,” Noah insists.
I turn it around a few times in my hands, staring at the package, trying to make sense of it and trying to guess what it is before I open it. There is something inside I can feel it, although I have no clue what it could be.
Slowly, I open the envelope and turn it upside down in my palm, trying to extract whatever object is inside. A shinny gold key falls into my hand. I look up at Noah like I want an explanation but know I don’t need one.
“Just in case you ever need to use it, I wanted to make sure you had it,” he offers.
Still not knowing what to say, I look at Noah then back down at the key. I had thought about giving him one to my place but never actually went through with it. Besides, he always arrived after I got home and left before I did, so what was the point?
“I don’t know what to say,” I finally tell him.
“Don’t say anything.” He kisses the top of my head and heads back to his unpacking. I stand there, kicking myself for not having a key to give in return. As I watch him unpack, I feel myself loving how much he trusts me, wants me, and seems to need me. He doesn’t ever think twice about giving me little gestures like this, and somehow the thought never crosses my mind to do the same. Standing in Noah’s new apartment, I again wonder why that is as the burn inside starts to resurface.
Evelyn
My party rapidly approaches as time flies by faster than I had anticipated. Noah has been busy the last few weeks, hard at work figuring out all the specifics that Michael and Rex want to add onto their club. He spends his days at the club, measuring and drawing up plans, making whatever progress he can while the two co-owners fight endlessly over what they actually need versus what they thought they wanted.
I fill my time working. I picked up two new freelance positions in Orange County. I haven’t told Noah exactly where the new magazines were located, but I’m thrilled with excitement about writing about my hometown. Normally the magazines might have hired someone else, but when I had video-conferenced with the editors, elaborating on how much I know the town, how often I still visit, and how much family I still have living in the area, they agreed to take a chance on me. I’m over the moon excited they did.
And I would be lying if I said I didn’t secretly still think of that job at the L.A. Times, making sure to follow up and stay in contact with a few people in the office from time to time knowing that persistence usually always pays off.
The night before my big birthday celebration, I agree to meet Gwen for drinks after work since I had taken Friday off for my birthday. Noah happily pushes the idea, still swamped with work trying to figure out how to cut unnecessary costs for Rex and Michael’s addition. Excited and ready for some girly fun one can only have with their best friend, we both decide to hit some local pubs in downtown and walk home if need be.
Our first stop is a small bar, probably five hundred square feet. The place makes up for the lack of room inside with a small patio out back. White string lights line the fences, space heaters stand in all the walkways, making sure guests are warm enough; and if that doesn’t do the trick there’s a large old fashioned fireplace in the far corner.
I’m surprised that on this Thursday night t
he bar is not too crowded and the patio is even less occupied. Walking towards the back when we get there, I hear Gwen curse and complain over my choice in seating.
“Really,” Gwen says as we reach a table by the fireplace and set down our purses. “This isn’t Orange County! Hell, I wouldn’t sit outside in SoCal this time of year let alone up here in this crazy weather.”
It’s fifty-eight degrees outside and is supposed to get much colder before the night is over. I laugh at my friend. The good thing about being acclimated to both Northern and Southern California is that you can take most any temperature the climate throws at you.
“Where is your sense of adventure,” I challenge. “A few stiff drinks and you’ll forget all about the cold.”
Gwen can’t argue with that. It’s basic knowledge she knows all too well. When a waitress comes up, we place our drink orders and wait in silence. Our relationship is never at a loss for words for long, though the absence between the two of us the last few weeks makes it hard to figure out what to say first.
“Are you excited for your party,” Gwen asks abruptly.
“I guess so. If I can handle two nights of back to back drinking, that is,” I respond, a little uneasy and not wanting to actually go through with it. Hangovers were one thing in my early twenties, although now in my early thirties, they leave me hating life for several days after.
“You’re just not seasoned anymore. A night like tonight is exactly what you need to get you back in the saddle again,” Gwen enthusiastically expresses.
The waitress returns and sets our drinks on the table pausing only briefly to tell both of us to yell if we needed anything else, or better yet go inside for refills. Acknowledging the fact that we are the only ones crazy enough to sit on the patio, we nod and wait for the waitress to leave before continuing our conversation. Gwen glances at her phone briefly, and I do the same, pretending to have some important information to look at when in actuality I’m just buying time. Why is this awkward? I’m not quite sure.
“Sooooo,” Gwen sighs.
“Sooooo,” I repeat.
Gwen takes a long drink of beer and looks off in the distance. I have never seen her like this before and wonder what’s making her at a loss for words. This woman normally doesn’t care what she says or how she says it, so I have no clue what is stopping her now.
“How are things with you and Noah,” she asks with a touch of hurt in her tone.
“We’re good. Real good. He gave me a key,” I tell Gwen. “First time in my life that has ever happened.”
Gwen doesn’t say anything. She raises her eyebrows and takes another sip of her drink. The conversation is awkwardly funny. Neither of us have ever had issues talking before, and the fact that we do now leaves me worried. I thought Gwen liked Noah, but I’m starting to think otherwise after the start of this conversation.
“What, is that weird? Too fast,” I ask her.
“No, not at all. I mean, not if your happy?” It’s a question that startles me. Never before has she bothered to find out if I’m happy in any of my relationships. We have only jumped for joy together when giddy little experiences happened and spoke death to any man if he ever broke our hearts.
“He makes me happy,” I say. “I love him.”
“Do you,” Gwen asks, a sense of urgency in her question which shocks me.
I sit there for a moment, searching my friend’s face. Gwen looks scared, worried, mad and hurt. I can tell my best friend wants what’s best for me, but it’s a complete shock to me that she’s questioning if Noah is it. Gwen simply just doesn’t know Noah like I do. She doesn’t know the man that changed his whole world around just to be with me. That took guts, and that’s something to admire.
“I do, Gwen. I could hardly breathe when he left me for that fire a month or so back. Thinking of not being with him scares me. I can’t even imagine it. He’s an amazing man, and he gave up everything for me. He stayed and changed his whole life just to be with me,” I try explaining but words don’t express how I feel for Noah. “That takes guts. How could I not love a man that would give up everything just to be with me?”
I want Gwen to know just how much he means to me. Part of the reason why I love him so much is because of how much he loves me. Surely that couldn’t be the only reason? As soon as the thought finds my mind, the burning fear begins to surface inside. Although this time, I know there’s no pushing it away.
Gwen’s response is slow to come, but powerful when spoken. With one simple question she’s stops time and changes everything that I’ve been trying to fight since Noah walked into my life and stole my heart.
“But are you willing to do the same,” she asks.
The question hits me like a ton of bricks. I’m hurt that Gwen would even suggest such a comment. I’m mad that anyone would think I’m the type of woman who wouldn’t give back what was given. It’s as if she’s accusing me of using Noah or something. And then I’m sad … sad that for the first time I’m forced to face the little voice inside me I was trying so hard to ignore. The burning reality that maybe I’m not.
I sit there, on the back patio of a local bar with my best friend, suddenly getting the wind knocked out of me. I’m forced to possibly admit a reality I have tried so hard to cover up. The thought never entered my mind before simply because I always forced it away. Now, it sticks like a bad disease in my brain, intruding and oozing its venom on my every thought. The burn consumes my body, filling it painfully, and I feel sick having to even begin to process the answer.
“Your silence, my sweet dear friend, is unfortunately your answer,” Gwen says, breaking my train of thought. The look of sadness and pity on her face is one that I’ve never seen before and will probably never forget.
I don’t want that to be the answer. I know if I try hard, I won’t feel the way I do. If I could just try harder, maybe I could forget this conversation and the idea that I ever possibly felt the way I’m feeling now, faced with a possible truth I have been trying to suppress for months. I love Noah, I know it, but giving up a life I had planned and hoped for long before I ever met him is not something I think I can face. My mind begins racing as it tells me all the things I don’t want to hear.
Noah gave up everything for you. Noah sacrificed anything he planned before you, just to be with you. You don’t love him like he loves you. You’re unworthy of his love. He’s better than you, and your love will never be good enough.
My mind won’t stop, and I feel compelled to fight against it. To somehow push that burn back and continue not having to face the one reality I’ve tried for months to ignore.
“I wouldn’t say I wouldn’t give up everything for him. You don’t know that, Gwen, you don’t know what we have.”
“Ahh, but I know you,” Gwen says. A simple answer, but a powerful truth. She does know me. She knows all I stood for, all I dreamed for. All I’ve set my hopes on ever since I was a little girl. That’s something I can’t argue with.
“That’s not fair,” I whisper, my response not nearly as powerful as Gwen’s. Still, it’s simple and true.
“Listen, Ev,” Gwen says, leaning forward. “I love you. You know that!” I nod, looking down at the table and silently sitting, waiting for my friend to continue. “But you have dreams, girl. Ambitions! You live life fuller than I have ever seen anyone live it, possibly ever! The whole reason I have never given up on life is because I had you by my side, pushing me every damn day.” Gwen’s voice breaks, and I find it hard to contain my own emotions as a tear slides down my face. “You set the bar high girl, and the rest of us can only aspire to follow and obtain even half the goals you have set for yourself.” Gwen pauses for a moment thinking. She takes a drink before continuing. I look up, finally ready to meet her eyes and hear what comes next as another single tear falls down my face.
“I tried to let myself die when my sister did. And God knows I’m no sort of example to look up to, but you saw through all that. You kept me going. You never gav
e up on me, and because of that, I never gave up on myself. I won’t let you give up on your dreams. If you tell me your dreams are to marry the sexy, southern, tall, construction-working, hot volunteer firefighter from Kentucky and have a million babies, possibly being barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen the rest of your life, I’ll respect that! But I won’t accept it! Damnit, I know you better. I know you, Ev! Just please … think about what I’m saying. Sometimes you only get one chance in life. I just want to make sure you don’t waste it.”
Gwen trails off, and I’m stunned in silence. I can barely even think, let alone form any sort of comeback to the truth that has just hit me square in the eyes. I have just been handed more information than I know what to do with and this is going to take a while to process, if I even could begin to start and wrap my mind around it all right now.
Looking down at the bottle in my hand, I try to process all my past, all the present, and all the future I hoped for. My breathing quickens and I find it hard to be in any form of reality. Taking a long and very hard sip of beer, I subconsciously and involuntarily decide the best option is to get drunk. And the sooner the better.
I slam back three-quarters of the beer I have left, stand, and make my way to the bar to order two more. Tipping the bartender more than anyone ever should, I wink at him and tell him to keep them coming!
Noah
“Mr. Stewart … Oh. Mr. Stewart!” I wake up to the sound of a woman’s voice singing my name trailing in from outside my apartment. Foggy and still trying to make sense of what is going on, I sit up in bed and look at the time: 12:45. Scratching my head, I try my best to focus on the voice I just heard coming from what sounded like right outside the front door.
“Mr. Stewart, are you there? Please tell me you’re there …” the voice pleads. “Mr. Stewart, oh, Mr. Stewart,” the voice continues in an almost musical nature.
Indecision Page 16