30. Cat

PretendingI'm Noah's only lasted a few hours, then it became too painful to bear. Just when I had entered the bargaining phase, convincing myself that maybe we could make it work despite his off-island home and constant work and travel, he drops the bombshell reminder that he doesn't live on the island. He doesn't even care that his family house is being sold.

It felt like a personal affront. I tried to shove that thought away while we watched his favorite movies in his massive bed. The state-of-the-art projector made it feel like a movie theater. Noah's room is much more comfortable though, which is why I'm totally okay watching The Lord of the Rings like this.

Or at least the first one. I fell asleep. On his bed. Beside him. Unintentionally.

It was like two in the morning though, so can you blame me?

When we woke up the next morning, Noah was still in his I-can't-leave-the-house-in-case-I-need-a-bathroom phase of the flu. We hunkered down and spent the entire day watching the rest of the trilogy after I called Mrs. Finnigan to reschedule her cleaning. We didn't have time to fit in my romcoms before we had to leave for the airport, but I'm okay with that.

His movies were not at all what I was expecting. There were a lot of times he had to pause the movie and explain relationships or what was going on. Honestly, between you and me, I was here for it.

When Sam and Frodo finally made it to Mordor, I was invested. It wasn't just a bunch of elves and dwarfs dancing around, fighting each other. The themes were deep and meaningful and rewarding.

But things between me and Noah? They've felt easy and effortless and it took all I had not to climb into his arms to show him how I feel. I've exercised restraint while we watched movies and drove to the airport and during the entire flight home.

I deserve a medal.

We landed back in Florida and took his speedboat to the dock outside his resort.

It's warm and balmy as Noah steers us into place at the dock. The island looms in the darkness, and I feel peace as we come to a stop in front of it. We're home.

"Are you okay being on a boat like this?" he asks.

"I can do boats; I just struggle with swimming. I guess I feel protected in a boat. Who knows why my psyche can handle one and not the other."

"Probably has something to do with your parents not being in a boat when it happened, right?"

"Probably." I take my glasses off and clean the water from each lens with my shirt.

"Have you ever tried to overcome your fear?" he asks, getting up to tie us to the dock.

"A few times." We're stopped now, our boat rocking gently with the waves. "Otto was bent on fixing the issue when I was like fifteen. He wanted me to be his surfing buddy. I agreed to try, but I had a full-on panic attack when we got out in the water, so he stopped pushing it."

"Do you wish you'd kept pursuing it?" he asks, wrapping the rope around the cleat.

"Sometimes, when it's really hot, I just want to jump in the ocean. But honestly? It's not a make it or break it thing in my life. I know my limits. I'm not holding on to residual trauma with my parents' deaths. I'm just afraid of the ocean's whims and fancies, and that doesn't make me less of a person. I've made my peace with not being perfect, I guess." I spread my arms out. "This is who I am. Take it or leave it."

He stares at me in awe and fascination. "I wish I could be more like you."

My arms drop. "How? Accepting your shortcomings?"

"No. Not looking at them like they're shortcomings."

He's right. That's how I shifted my thinking, and it's never bothered me since. I stand up, moving toward the center of the boat so I can hand him the bags. "Then change the way you look at yourself, Belacourt. You realize a lot of people struggle with anxiety, right? It's not some weird taboo thing."

"In my family, it is."

I laugh, the sound wrenching from my gut with force. "Have you met your family? They might not talk openly about it, but they all have their issues. Everyone does because none of us are perfect. Look at Bree's reaction to her bad news while we shot the campaign. Someone with their life together would have been able to table the pain for later and finish working. I haven't even met Zoey, but judging from your reality show, she's a perfectionist. Olive needs constant outside reinforcement, and we won't even get into your parents. None of them are perfect. There's no way they expect that from you too."

Noah's expression is a blank mask while he absorbs what I'm telling him.

"Having anxiety only ruins your life when you let it," I say. "You aren't less of a person, or less of a man, or less of a boss for it."

"Tell that to my board of directors," he mutters.

"Why?" I pass him a bag and he puts it on the dock.

He takes a deep breath like he's gearing himself up for something. "It's why I'm on the island, Cat. I had an anxiety attack, kind of like the thing you witnessed at Tootsie's party, except we were meeting with investors. I ran from the room and we lost the account because they thought I was unhinged. My board told me to take two months off to get a grip, which is why Gina has stepped in and helped me run things."

"And why you don't go into the office much."

"Right. I'm on a time out."

The boat rocks, so I grip the back of a seat, letting his words sink in. If I thought we wouldn't work out before, we definitely won't now. There's no way he'll be able to make time for me when he's no longer forced to be on the island. Something about that—the fact that he had to be removed from work in order to be here so much—kills me. It's my home, my happy place, the best little piece of paradise in the world.

If we can't see eye to eye on that, we're doomed from the start.

So why bother trying? I don't want to set and bump the volleyball of our relationship if it's just going to spike out of bounds no matter what.

This wakeup call is good, because I was starting to melt toward him again. I can't let myself listen to feelings that have no legs to stand on. It'll just end in heartache later.

I pick up another bag and hand it to him.

He takes it from me. "What did I say wrong?"

"Nothing." I hand him the last bag, then climb out, ignoring his offered hand.

"I can tell you're unhappy."

"It's fine." I lean down to pick up my things.

"Cat."

I stop, closing my eyes, and drop my bag on the dock. "Can we not do this? Someone forced me to learn what Orcs are yesterday, and now I have to go scrub my brain."

"I didn't realize you hated the movies."

"I loved them." I meet his eyes so he'll read my sincerity. "Seriously. Didn't expect to, if I'm being honest, but now I'm thinking I'll be Sam for Halloween this year."

"Not Arwen?"

"She's pretty, but Sam is the real MVP."

He smiles at me like I said the right thing. "Cat?—"

"I really can't do this right now," I say, almost pleading. "It'll be too hard. Can't we just be friends for the rest of the summer while you're here, then go our separate ways and not have to deal with heartache on top of saying goodbye?"

He's frozen, his face carved from granite. His chest isn't even moving, so I'm wondering if he's holding his breath.

"Please?" I ask. I don't add that I've lost enough in my life, that I'm unprepared to love and lose him, too.

"Okay."

"Friends?" I ask, to make sure he heard me.

Noah nods. "Friends."

As we pick up our bags and climb the stairs toward the resort, I can tell that things are already different between us.

I'm racking my brain for something to say that will pop us out of this funk when we pass the restaurant at the resort, and I stop dead in my tracks. It's dark outside, but the windows glow from the candlelight and the dim bulbs above the bar, perfectly highlighting my uncle inside.

Otto is here. He's dressed in all black and smiling at someone sitting at the bar. Because he's behind the bar shaking a martini mixer. The world starts to tilt, this vision not lining up with what I know to be true. Why is he acting like he's working here? He cannot?.?.?. Can he actuallybe a Belacourt bartender?

"What's wrong?" Noah follows my gaze until he notices Otto. "Oh."

"Did you know about this?"

"No."

I search his face and see truth. When I look back at Otto, he's staring at me, his wide eyes proving he's not happy to be discovered.

I start for the door when Noah takes my hand. "Come the back way. It's better."

He leads me around the side toward the kitchen entrance. The door swings open and Otto is there, hands up in surrender. "It's not what it looks like."

"Is this why you've been sneaking away and wearing black dress shirts and not telling me where you are? I thought you had a girlfriend, Otto!"

He looks abashed. "It's not a big deal."

Not a big deal that he was sneaking around and lying to me? I take in his combed hair. "Do you even golf?" I burst.

Otto cringes.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to panic."

I grow still. Is he finally ready to let me in on his secrets? "About what?"

Otto closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face. "I need the money, Cat."

I wait. The silence sits around us. Noah steps back, giving us space.

"Some bills showed up a few years ago?—"

"A few years? Seriously?" I didn't realize they were so old.

"Cat. Listen. They're from Killigan Hammer, and they're big. I didn't want to worry you, so I've been chipping away at them. But then we had a few slow months, and I couldn't make the payments, so I've been trying to even things out by working here."

"I know."

He looks up at me. "What?"

"I found the bills. I already know. I've been saving too. It's why Noah hired me this summer, to help out."

Otto frowns, looking over my shoulder to where I'm guessing Noah is standing.

"I have almost enough to cover half of the bill, Otto. By the end of July, I'll have enough to pay the whole thing."

He looks between us, his scowl growing, then shakes his head slowly, his eyes not leaving mine. "No."

"No, what?"

"No, you aren't paying my bill. It has nothing to do with you."

"Um, yes, it does. If you're getting a final notice on it, then that means our house is in danger, which has everything to do with me."

"Not when the house isn't in my name."

The world rocks around me. I couldn't have heard him correctly. "What are you talking about?"

"When you signed all those documents to take over the BB while I was dealing with chemo, you got ownership of the house. It's all yours, Cat, entirely in your name. If the bank comes for me, the house would still be yours."

"I don't understand."

"I did it to protect you. I had no idea what the treatments were going to cost us or if I would even be around to pay them, and I didn't want you saddled with a huge debt, especially if I'd died." He shrugs. "You already owned your dad's half of the house, so I just signed my half over instead of waiting until I was dead."

"But it's your house. Your money. You aren't dead yet—you have a lot of life to live."

Otto just shakes his head. "You are my life, Cat." The soft way he says it has me melting into a puddle.

I cross the rest of the deck to fall into his arms and let him squeeze his love into me. "It's me and you against the world, Otto. I don't care who owns the house. I'm helping you pay off this stupid bill and then we can talk about the future."

"Good," he says, kissing the top of my head. "I've been thinking about joining Phil and Hank on an extended surf trip once Phil's hip heals."

"You should do it. The guests can suffer from my cooking."

He laughs. "You're a better cook than me and we both know it." He clears his throat. "We'll talk about the bills later, but you aren't paying them. I won't accept your money."

We'll see about that. Otto gave up his life to raise me. I can pay one bill.

He looks over his shoulder. "I need to get back."

"I'll see you at home."

Otto heads inside, and when I turn around to find Noah, he's gone.

The gate at the end of the path swings open softly. No, not gone. The tense feeling in my chest eases.

He's waiting for me.