Chapter 19

Noah fell asleep before the end of the film so as I hadn't concentrated on it, I slipped out before finding out who the murderer was to make us dinner. Liv messaged me to ask how things were going with Noah's father so I sent her a voice note as I chopped vegetables.

‘Noah didn't turn up for work this morning so I came to his flat to see what was up and he's been ill all weekend. Something like the flu. He looked like shit when I got here, no food in and I don't think he's really eaten or drunk enough. I've stayed with him to try to get him to feel better. His father didn't seem very sympathetic when I told him, said he expected to see him tomorrow whatever. So, we have a clue as to why Noah is so often in a bad mood. What a douchebag.'

I made a chicken and vegetable pasta bake for dinner to try to get all the food groups in and when I put it in the oven, my eyes fell on an open bottle of red wine on the counter so I poured myself a glass. Because if there was a day that required wine, this was it. I checked Instagram and then opened my personal emails. I didn't ever get many. Just book deals or shops tempting me with autumn decor or cosy cardigans or memes from my parents.

But I saw I had one from Noah.

Email from noahmatthews1 to Steviebookworm.

Stevie,

I am in my apartment in New York and all I can think about is you. And the look on your face when I walked away from you that day in the park. I don't think I'll ever forget it. If telling you I was moving and we were over didn't break my heart, that look shattered it into a million tiny pieces.

I looked up from my phone, my heart thumping inside my chest. It was dated a couple of months after Noah broke up with me. I looked again. It had originally been addressed to my old email. The one I'd deleted after I blocked him everywhere else. I had wanted no way to contact him or look at his new life and torture myself, but I'd cut him off too. He'd tried to email me. I'd never got it. But he'd sent it to me now so I'd read it.

But did I want to?

My phone beeped with a voice note reply from Liv. In a trance from seeing that email, I pressed play and her voice rang out in Noah's kitchen.

‘That explains your picture of soup on Instagram,' Liv said. ‘Noah's flat looks fabulous. You're so sweet to look after him. I bloody hope he appreciates it. And is nicer to you! You'll look after yourself, won't you? I don't want him to hurt you. You're the sweetest; he doesn't deserve you.'

‘She's right.'

I spun around to see Noah in a dressing gown, shuffling out of his bedroom into the open-plan living area. I stared at him, my cheeks flushed, my heart still aching.

‘You shouldn't be out of bed,' I said.

‘I sent you something,' he said, nodding to my phone.

‘I saw it but…' I trailed off then gestured weakly to the oven. ‘I'm making dinner. It's almost ready, go back and rest.'

‘I think it will do me good to be up for a bit,' Noah said. ‘I'll sit though.'

He walked to the leather sofa and sunk into it. Then he waved me over.

With some trepidation, I sat down next to him and took a long sip of the wine.

‘Oh, was this okay?' I asked, gesturing to the glass.

Noah smiled. ‘After today, you can have anything.' Then he coughed and groaned.

‘Best not to talk. Dinner should be ready now.'

I jumped up and went back into the kitchen, feeling awkward as hell. My phone burned in my pocket with Noah's email. I looked over to see he was looking out of his window at the rain, so I quickly opened up his email and carried on reading.

I don't know if it will make you feel any better to hear that I regretted it as soon as I left you. I knew I'd made the biggest mistake of my life. But things are so complicated. I wasn't thinking straight. I'm not thinking straight.

I have no idea if you even want to hear from me. You must hate me. And you should. I hate myself for leaving you. I am trying to do the right thing for everyone. But this isn't the right thing for me. I know that.

Stevie, can we talk please? There are things I should have told you. That I want to tell you. If you'll give me your time. If you can bear to listen.

But I understand if you can't. If you don't ever want to talk to me again. I wouldn't blame you. I can barely look at myself in the mirror.

I'm thousands of miles away from you but you're still the first thing I think about when I wake up, and the last before I go to sleep.

Please let me explain.

All my love,

Always,

Noah.

My eyes blurred with tears as I put my phone down in disbelief. I turned back to see Noah was now watching me. He looked like he was about to get up but I shook my head.

I walked to his bathroom and closed the door before grabbing a tissue to dab at my eyes. Noah's words had broken me. He had really written that in New York? I had no idea.

A moment later, there was a soft knock on the door. ‘Did you read it? Stevie?' Then he coughed again.

‘Sit down, Noah.' I opened the door. ‘You won't help yourself, will you?'

‘I'm so glad you're here,' he said then and kind of stumbled.

I grabbed his arm. ‘Sit down, let's eat then we can talk,' I said, trying to bribe him to rest. He looked so frail.

Noah nodded weakly and let me lead him back to the sofa. I had never seen him like this. He looked so vulnerable. It made me want to cry all over again.

Once Noah was back on the sofa, I returned to the kitchen and plated up the pasta bake and carried over two trays to the sofa.

‘It has all the good stuff in it,' I said. ‘I hope you like it.'

I curled my legs up and tucked in as Noah put his on the coffee table and leaned over to eat it. For a moment, the only soundtrack was the rain still falling down outside soaking London while we stayed warm and dry in Noah's flat.

‘So good,' Noah said, breaking the silence. ‘I forgot what a good cook you are.'

He was eating at a frantic pace. He must have been so hungry.

‘Do you live on takeaways and ready meals?'

‘I did try to learn to cook but I just don't have the patience,' Noah replied. He leaned back, his plate already clean. ‘And most of the time, I work so late I have to eat in the office anyway.'

‘You never used to be such a workaholic,' I pointed out, putting my plate down too.

‘I had better things to do back then.'

Noah looked at me and I felt that jolt again. I told myself it was just recognition of someone that I'd been so close to once but when he gave me that look, like he had before I'd kissed him in the alley, it was hard to make my body see it as past tense only. The spark felt live and real and… present tense.

‘Did you read it?' he asked again.

I sighed, knowing I couldn't put him off any longer. ‘Yes. Did you really regret leaving me like you said in the email?'

‘Yes,' he whispered.

I looked away. ‘I wish I had known that. I wish I'd read it then. But I don't think it's a good idea to talk about it any more, Noah. We are just hurting ourselves. It's all in the past, right? That's what we agreed.'

‘Then I might not get a chance to talk to you again,' he said, coughing. ‘Stevie, you being here… Liv was right, I don't deserve it. Leaving you like I did.'

‘You already apologised,' I said, going to stand up. I really didn't want to keep digging up the grave of our relationship. It was too painful. If I had received that email, maybe things would have been different. But I hadn't. He stayed in New York and I'd had to move on without him. It felt too hard to keep talking about it.

Noah put a hand on my thigh and I stilled, hating how I responded to his touch. He moved it away as if maybe it had given him a jolt too.

‘Please can I explain? You never got that email. I never got a chance.'

I sighed. ‘What's the point?'

‘I'm ill; you can't refuse,' he said with a hint of mischief in his eyes.

‘Guilt trip, nice. Fine, but I'm closing my eyes. I can't look at you.' I curled my legs up under me, leaned against the back of the sofa and closed my eyes. I felt like someone was about to stick in a needle in my arm and I didn't want to watch it going in.

‘I didn't tell you who my father was when we met,' Noah began. His voice was rough and croaky and he kept stopping to cough and have a sip of water, but he carried on and I listened. ‘For years, I'd tried to make my own way out of his shadow. I wanted to work in publishing because I was good at it, not because he got me the job. He kept asking me to come to New York and work with him and it was hard to refuse, but then I met you and I knew I'd made the right decision to stay here.'

I shifted in my seat but didn't say anything.

Noah waited a beat then continued. ‘I wanted to keep you mine, just mine. I was worried if my father got involved, you'd run a mile. Then, just when I knew I had to tell you, the secret being the only thing between us, Dad called me and told me my mum was ill. She had cancer.'

My eyes flew open. ‘Noah,' I whispered.

‘He was shouting down the phone. He told me that me being so far away and the rift between us had caused her so much stress it had made her ill. She was asking for me. He told me I had to come home, that I needed to stop being selfish and be there for her. Which, of course, I wanted to do. I wanted to be there for her. I felt so guilty. What if he was right and it was all my fault she was ill?'

I wanted to reach for him but I knew it was a bad idea. ‘You can't give someone cancer. How is she? Is she okay?'

Noah shook his head. ‘I was devastated, Stevie. I was in a mess. My head was all over the place. All I knew was I had to go and be there for her.'

‘Why didn't you tell me? I would have told you to go,' I said.

‘I know. And you would have waited for me. But I couldn't. I think I wanted you to hate me.'

‘Why?' I asked, shocked.

‘Because I hated myself for lying to you, for leaving my mum, for not being a good son, for putting my happiness first, for knowing I was going to hurt you and for knowing I had to leave you. For all of it. Leaving you like I did, I knew I didn't deserve your love. It's like what Liv said – I don't deserve you.'