CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

F inn

He's gone.

Like an idiot, I don't realize at once.

I wake up, and the light drifts in from the blinds, and I don't think anything about the fact that Noah isn't beside me.

I think he's making breakfast, and I let my mind wander to last night. We had sex. Actual sex.

But at some point I realize I don't hear the blender whirr, and I don't hear footsteps as Noah dances in the kitchen, AirPods in, thinking he's being quiet, when he's only sort of being quiet.

I slip out of bed, noticing the chill in the air, and telling myself it's because we're closer to the end of the year, and not because of a gloomy foreboding. I mean, I'm not in some Alfred Hitchcock thriller, where bad things always come with drafty windows. Besides, my windows are amazing.

But I don't hear any shuffling in the kitchen, and when I enter it, there is no assortment of chopped up vegetables on my counters.

There is nothing.

Everything is immaculate.

And empty.

He probably went out to get something. It's absolutely fine.

Maybe Noah has never left the apartment in the morning before, but it's not like he can't do that .

But something about this feels different. Uneasiness shoots through my cells, and my stomach tangles, forming a larger and larger knot.

My heart swerves, and I hurry through the apartment, flinging open doors of the bedrooms until I grab my phone. I put it off airplane mode, my fingers shaking.

I wait for the internet to turn on, for the messages to come.

There's only one I'm interested in.

And there it is: a text from Noah.

Noah: Don't worry, I'm moving out. Thank you for everything.

And there it is. A fucking goodbye text.

Why? The word roars through my mind, but half a second later I understand, when I read all the other texts that I've received from my agent.

Someone leaked I was looking for an annulment. God, I'd forgotten about that.

Does Noah think that means I don't care about him? I scramble to call him. I need him to understand.

I smile.

This is fine. I'll tell him, and he'll come back, and everything will be normal.

But he doesn't answer the phone.

I collapse onto the bed, hot rage pummeling my veins. This isn't how things were supposed to happen.

The phone rings, and I pick up.

It's him.

But instead, my agent is on the other end.

"Finn! What on earth did you do?" Cole blares into my ear. "Did you get drunk and marry Noah Fitzpatrick?"

I'm silent. My heart thumps.

"Answer me," Cole says. "I know you're there. I can hear you fucking breathing. Don't pretend you can't hear me."

"I'm here," I say finally, my voice strained and small.

"Put Noah on the phone," Cole growls with the vigor of a man who could play villains in animation. "I need to talk to you both. Now!"

My breath shudders. Tears prickle my eyes.

"Now!" Cole roars.

"He left me," I say finally, and tears blur my gaze. "He's not here. He's...gone."

There's silence. I sniffle.

"That solves your marriage problem," Cole says, no longer yelling.

"I didn't want him to go!" I exclaim.

"The whole nation knows you were faking it with him! Do you have any idea of how the Blizzards will react?"

"Not good?"

"You better believe it. Not good indeed. You tried to slip one over them."

"I didn't!"

"Are you or are you not featured heavily in Blizzards promotions?"

"I am."

"And are you or are you not making extra money because of it?"

My heart sinks. "I am. "

"You need to make things up with Noah. You need to play the happy couple. No one can know what a pair of lying schemers you are."

"We're not!"

"Did you pretend to be gay to be treated better? To make sure Noah wasn't sent back to the AHL?"

I'm silent.

"We like each other," I say finally.

"Then why isn't he with you now?"

"Maybe I've had this wrong by trying to blame you. Maybe he's the one responsible. Maybe he's embarrassed his scheme wasn't going to work and that's why he left."

"Noah wouldn't do that," I say, but now not just my heart is aching. Now my whole body is.

"Is he with you or isn't he?" Cole asks.

I inhale a shaky breath.

"It's okay, Noah," Cole says, his voice kinder than I expect. "You're rich. People can be unsavory. I'll do my best to clean this up. Get him sent back. You won't have to see him again."

"No!" I exclaim. "Noah stays. I don't want him to go. Not because of me."

Cole inhales sharply. "Are you certain?"

"Of course. Besides, he was moved to the second line. He's more valuable now."

"Okay. You're right. He scored that goal too. That was something." Cole clears his throat. "I mean, the time for him to leave was after that terrible entrance. I'm sorry, Noah. I thought you were a great couple."

"I did too."

Cole ends the call, and I stare into my bedroom. Was everything fake?

Then I shake my head.

No. Of course not. I'm the person who failed Noah. Again.

My heartbeat swerves unsteadily, and I sink to the ground and burrow my head in my hands.

Noah is gone, gone, gone.