Chapter 21

The entire plane ride, I sit in complete agony. Noah's eyes never look away from the back of my head—I can feel it. I don't get up to use the bathroom even once out of fear that he will say something to me. Usually, I love confrontation. But the thing is, I'm usually the one doing the confronting. Being on the other end isn't so fun—so I'd assume. I don't know. I've never been confronted by anyone besides my mother. I remain frozen in my seat, my neck growing sorer by the second because I simply refuse to move it.

When we land, I take advantage of the aisle seat and leap up, grab my belongings, and scramble to get out of there quickly.

But I forgot about Baggage Claim.

As opposed to the controlled hunting ground of the plane, the baggage claim is free range. There's nothing stopping Noah from finding me and causing a scene, right here in front of everyone.

Please, God, if you exist, don't let him approach me.

I find a bench with as much shadowy coverage as possible. My course of action is to hide until I can sneakily grab my bag and escape without him knowing I was ever here.

Naturally, that's wishful thinking.

God thinks my life is one big practical joke. I exist for his entertainment and his entertainment only, which becomes painfully clear when I see Noah staring at me from across the way.

Avoid eye contact at all costs. Read your book. Everything is fine.

Little Women is fascinating, so fascinating that I stare at the same page for five minutes because my stomach is rolling and rumbling so uncomfortably that I can't focus on anything but the raging nerves making my heart pound. I must look so stupid, holding an old, raggedy book five inches away from my face like an undercover detective in one of those old mystery movies.

My curiosity eventually gets the best of me, and I peek over the top of the book, just about jumping out of my skin when I see Noah is no more than five feet away and moving even closer.

"Jesus Christ!" I exclaim, jolting so violently that my book falls into my lap and snaps shut without giving me time to save my place. I glare down at it for a moment, then direct my glare to Noah instead. It only lasts a moment, though, because I see the apologetic expression on his face and remember that if anyone has a reason to be mad, it's most certainly him.

"I didn't mean to scare you," he tells me softly, stopping a pace or two away. He gestures to the empty seat next to me, as if asking for permission, and I don't even hesitate in nodding.

He's not mad. I can't believe he's not mad.

We sit in a strange silence for a while. It's not uncomfortable, but it's not easy either. I don't want to say anything out of fear of making it worse, so I wait.

And wait.

And wait.

And finally, he speaks.

"Why do you like Little Women so much, Lucy?"

I blink in surprise. Of all the things I'd been expecting—all the questions I thought he might ask—that one wasn't on the list. In fact, I don't think anyone has ever asked me that. I'm not sure that I even know why, but the way he is expectantly looking at me compels me to answer. He deserves this at the very least.

"Well…" I clear my throat and run my clammy palms along the thighs of my jeans. I can't remember ever feeling this anxious before. This is the test of a lifetime. No take-backs, no redos. "I guess it's because of the story itself. It's so ahead of its time and yet, the tale withstands the entire history of womanhood. Today, ten years ago, a hundred, a thousand. It's always been the same. Every day for women is a puzzle to be solved, and it can be so exhausting. I guess I just like the idea that Jo outsmarted the puzzle. She became the gamemaster. Her ending isn't a ‘soulmate,' it's success. She took the mold created for all women and changed it into something different—something better."

Noah thinks for a moment, his eyes never leaving mine. His expression gives nothing away. I guess I spoke too soon when I came to the conclusion that he has no poker face—he does, and it's a good one. "So, you like Jo because she married out of strategy, not love."

"Exactly."

"But what about Amy? And Meg?" he asks. "They married for love. Does that make them less than Jo?"

"See, that's exactly what I'm talking about," I object. "It's not about less or more. There is no less or more. Amy chose her ending, so did Meg, so did Jo. It's about rising above the pressures or accepting them as your own, and both are equally as respectable. But I'm not Amy or Meg, and as much as I would like to be, I'm not Jo. I'm just trying to survive the unending chess game that life is, and it seems like more and more lately, I'm losing. It's like, no matter what I do, someone out there won't approve. So I have to stop looking for approval and instead start looking for peace. Because I'm telling you, Noah, I can't keep playing by other people's rules. It's killing me. And it's not you. It was never you. You…" I let out a sharp breath of air and smile at him, the confusion and naivety written all over his face only fueling me more. "You are good, Noah. I promise you that. You're sweet and kind, and I know that any mistakes you've made weren't intentional. But that's not enough. I can't risk ruining the walls that I've worked hard to build. And that's not your problem, it's mine. It's just the world we live in. I can prioritize love, or I can prioritize life, but not both. I don't get that privilege; not like you do."

Noah stares at me, the brown in his hazel green eyes more prominent than ever as they darken. His eyebrows are furrowed, forming a small crease between them. He seems mad, but the softness in his stare tells me that he's not mad at me.

"I have sisters, Lucy. I don't want them to have to make these kinds of choices. I don't want them to feel like something is always out to get them."

I study the lines sinking deep into the skin of his face, lines that can only form from years and years of worrying. My first instinct was to stop talking—it's none of his business, why should I share my experience with him? But it is his business because it will be his sisters' experience too, whether he wants it to or not.

"You can't stop it, not unless you have some mind control I didn't know about." I grin and nudge his arm. "Although, that would explain a lot."

Noah's lips twitch into a smile, but he shakes his head at the floor in disapproval. "Lucy…"

"Alright, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." I stare at him, but he's avoiding meeting my gaze, eyes trained loyally on the floor. He really is too good at looking pitiful. "Hey." I stretch out my leg to nudge his foot and scoot a bit closer to him to form some kind of imperfect, unhealthy huddle of unity that—with our track record—we both know will likely do more harm than good. For the moment, though, that doesn't matter. We're close, our arms are touching, and our skin is electric where we meet. All of the bad things crashing down around us don't seem so heavy anymore, and briefly, I think I might feel something close to peace. I know it won't last, but I allow myself the willful ignorance to think that, just maybe, it will.

"I know it seems bad," I tell him. "And you're probably really hating yourself right about now even though all of this is out of your control because you're broody like that." I hide a smirk when Noah looks at me with a half-hearted glare. "But it's really not that bad. I mean, don't get me wrong, being a woman sucks sometimes—like it is brutal—but honestly, I wouldn't trade it for the world. And something tells me your sisters wouldn't either. If they were boys, they wouldn't get to have fun dressing up or talking about their crushes at sleepovers or thinking about the big, beautiful castle they're gonna live in when they grow up. They wouldn't get to imagine being an astronaut or a princess or a doctor or a wife or a mother—things that will be so much more meaningful to them because they'll have to work ten times harder for it. And, hey, they definitely wouldn't have you wrapped around their finger the way they do if they were boys, would they?"

Noah lets out a short laugh and shakes his head. "No. No, I guess they wouldn't." We look at each other, and his eyes search mine. "Do you really mean all of that? I mean, are you happy since college?"

I hum, sitting back and staring out at the room full of people rushing and bustling about. They're all living their lives, and maybe some are better than others, but they're all lives just the same, and at the end of the day, I think that maybe that's all we can ask for.

"Not always. Sometimes I let my anger ruin things. But I really am trying." I glance over at Noah and smile. "And so are you, right? That's why you're here for this interview."

Any bit of hope that was building in Noah's eyes fades away.

"No." He frowns and looks away. "I mean, maybe? I don't know. This job would theoretically solve all my problems—I'd make enough money to provide for myself and my family and pay off my debt. But...moving away? Leaving my family to be stuck in an office forty hours a week? It sounds miserable, doesn't it?"

"Noah, I thought you wanted this job, I mean we discussed how it could be the stepping stone for you and I mean, you were so nervous when the flight got canceled?—"

"I was nervous because no matter how much I don't want this new life, I don't want my old one anymore. I hate it, Lucy. It's fucking awful. I thought that if I could just get this new job, maybe things would be better. But I'm kidding myself, right? Because if I get it and I move here—so far away from home—I'm not only setting myself up for failure, but also my family too. My mom can't take care of the girls on her own. It'll kill her. And my dad, he's just so stubborn that he probably wouldn't even take any money I sent him anyway. And the girls...they're everything to me. I know I'm selfish for wanting to stay, but?—"

I don't know what I'm doing until I've already wrapped my arms around him in a tight hug and it's too late to take it back. I think, though, that I wouldn't take it back anyway, even if I could. It feels right. Holding him in my arms just seems to fit.

He melts into the embrace, sinking into my side and letting me take the full force of his weight. His head fits just beneath my chin, his barely tamed curls becoming wild as they brush against my skin. They're soft like silk, and I imagine three little girls with the same gorgeous blonde curls waiting for their brother to return home.

"You shouldn't do something you don't want to. If you want to go home, go home. Just like I make my own path, so do you."

I hear Noah sniffle, and I can physically feel my heart shattering into a million pieces. He pulls away from me, but I don't dare let go. My hands find his, and I hold on tighter than I've ever held onto anything. Our eyes meet, and his are filled with unshed tears.

"Noah…" I try, but he cuts me off before I can say anything.

"You should get it, Lucy, more than anyone else. This is my chess game—my test. I'm their older brother, and I'm their son. It's my job to make sure they're okay, even if I feel like I'm being buried alive under the pressure of it all. Your hurdles are complicated and complex. Maybe mine are simple, but they can't be solved any more than yours can. Or maybe they can…" He scoffs sardonically. "Maybe I'm just not strong enough to do what needs to be done."

"No," I immediately counter. "Don't talk like that." He's refusing to meet my gaze, so I squeeze his hands tighter and tighter until he finally allows our eyes to meet. He looks scared, and it makes my heart swell with endearment. I can't even begin to imagine how I ever thought this man had a single bad bone in his body. "If one of your sisters was saying things like this about herself, what would you tell her?"

"I dunno…" Noah murmurs. "I guess I'd tell her to just do her best and that would be enough."

"Okay," I say, making sure he sees my supportive smile. "And do you think you've done your best?"

He shrugs pitifully. "I tried."

"Then that's enough, Noah. Alright? Just do what your heart tells you. If that's Providence, great. If not, that's great too. No matter what, it'll all work out eventually."

Noah nods, sniffling a few times and reaching up to wipe his eyes after I finally gain the strength to release his hands. He's quiet for a while, and I don't press. I know how it feels to think you're drowning under the weight of life. I just hate to think that I've made it worse for him.

"Thank you, Lucy," he says eventually, his voice soft and hoarse in a way I've never heard before. This side of him is different. It's more vulnerable and real. He can seem so perfect sometimes that I think it all must be a show. But this? His tear stains on the collar of my shirt? That's more perfect than any joke he could tell or grin he could crack. "I'm sorry," he tells me with a frown. "I came over here to make sure you were okay and I?—"

"Don't apologize," I chastise gently. "I'm fine."

Noah smiles, nowhere near his usual charm, but genuinely. He gazes up at me, eyelashes dark against his light skin. A bit of his boyish charm returns. "Yeah, you always are, Little Miss Perfect."

I playfully roll my eyes. He is so annoying.

I hate that it's growing on me.

"You just can't help yourself, can you?" I ask.

Noah's smile grows into a grin, and he shrugs. "What can I say? Sometimes it's just too easy."

I shake my head at his antics, but I know I couldn't possibly take him seriously, not after everything that's happened. My ideation of Noah Laurier has changed. Where I once saw an immature boy who finds joy in the humiliation of others, I now see a goofy man doing his best to make himself and everyone else around him just the slightest bit happier, no matter how hard life gets.

I start to tell Noah that despite every argument and disagreement we've had, maybe we could've been friends in another universe. A universe where we don't find it all too easy to take advantage of each other. However, before I can, the luggage carousel roars to life and bags begin to slide down onto it. I'm so relieved by the fact that this nightmare of a trip is almost over that I nearly miss the flash of disappointment on Noah's face. I manage to catch it just in the nick of time, though. I open my mouth to ask what's wrong, but I'm distracted by my name being called in the distance.

I turn to see a man that I vaguely recognize as my future stepmom's son, John, quickly approaching with a look of urgency and a thin layer of sweat covering his bony face.

"Lucy!" he exclaims as he reaches us. "We have to go. If we don't leave now, we won't make it in time for the ceremony."

"Shit, it's that soon?" I hiss, picking up my carry-on and rushing after John to collect my suitcase. Luckily, it's one of the first ones to rotate by, and I'm able to grab it almost immediately. As soon as it's in hand, John heads for the exit, and I chase after him without a single thought other than making it in time to be there for my dad. After everything I went through to get here, I have to make it to the wedding.

I'm nearly to the sliding doors when I remember what I've forgotten, and it sucks the air right out of my lungs. I turn around and find Noah right where I left him, longingly staring after me. Is this the last time I'll ever see him? Will my last memory of him be those sad, sad eyes begging me to do something?

"Lucy!" John calls, several paces ahead of me. I brush him off, but I can tell from his visibly growing frustration that I don't have much time to make a decision.

Life or love? This is my time to choose, and never in a million years did I think that it would be so difficult. My head is screaming, Leave him behind without a second thought. But my heart is begging me to stay, to go be brave for one fucking minute.

I can't be brave. I must be responsible. I must think of my future and my family and my life. Noah simply doesn't fit into the equation, even if my thumping heart so desperately wants him to.

I leave him behind without so much as a goodbye.