Page 60

NOAH

Did you kiss her?

“Millie! Please open the door!”

I sprinted to Millie’s house. I have no concept of how long it took me, but I’m soaked to the bone when I arrive and it’s a miracle I didn’t get struck by lightning on the way.

Now, huddling under the somewhat sheltered porch of Millie and Ellis’ house, the storm rages violently. I’d be surprised if she could hear me.

Keep telling yourself that’s why she’s not answering the door.

I thank my lucky stars Winston can though, and after him barking for what feels like an eternity, her front door swings open.

My heart squeezes at the sight of her. Freshly washed, still-wet hair frames her face. Her eyes are puffy, and her silk pyjamas and fluffy slippers add to the fragility of her stance.

I expect her to slam the door in my face, but she opens it wider and silently motions for me to come inside. Winston greets me briefly, but almost as if he’s pissed at me too, he returns to his bean bag in the living room.

When the door closes behind me and the loudness of the storm has dimmed, I’m suddenly at a loss for words. I have so much bursting out of me, but the sight of her red eyes and tear-streaked face guts me. She cuddles her stomach, shrinking into herself.

“I’m sorry,” I manage to muster. “I am so sorry, Millie.”

Millie blinks up at me blankly. “For which part? Blowing off my show or kissing your ex-girlfriend for the entire world to see while you were meant to be at my show?”

The tone of her voice unnerves me. It’s barely above a whisper, almost monotone, as she stares at me zombie-like. As if she’s going through the motions of this conversation before she can ask me to leave.

I swallow down the lump in my throat. “It’s not how it looks.”

She blinks at me again, her eyes searching mine. Her skin is paler than usual, blotches of red on her cheeks from crying. Her eyes aren’t sparkling like I’m used to, either. They’re hollow, as if she’s checked out.

“I am so sorry I wasn’t there.” My saturated clothes stick to every inch of my body, and I want to tear them from my skin. “I wanted desperately to be there.”

“These things happen.” There it is again. The matter of fact, robotic tone of voice.

“There are many reasons why I didn’t make it, all of them my fault.” I take a tentative step forward. “I am so sorry for that. But please understand those photos with Sofia are misleading. I didn’t go to that event to have a make out session with my ex-girlfriend.”

She stares blankly at me. “Did you know Sofia was going to be there?”

I hesitate. “Yes.”

“But you chose not to tell me?”

I sigh. “Yes.”

She nods, like she expected this answer. “Did you hold her hand?”

“Yes.”

Millie licks her lips. “Did you kiss her?”

“No.” I remain as calm and level-headed as I can. “She leant in to kiss me and we might’ve touched lips for two seconds before I pulled away.”

She stares at me for an uncomfortably long time. “Did you want to kiss her?”

I’m about ready to shake her arms to wake her up. I’d rather she screamed and yelled or shoved me around her house and told me I’m an asshole. Anything but this despondent zombie who seems unaffected by anything I say.

“I didn’t want to,” I insist. “Yes, for a split second I thought about it. I thought about what it would be like to kiss her again. She’s my ex-girlfriend. I think that’s normal. But I didn’t want it. I don’t want to kiss anyone but you.”

Millie remains silent, staring at the wall behind my shoulder as she seemingly processes my words. “You know the funny part about all of this?” My heart shatters when I notice silent tears spill over the edge of her eyes.

“Millie . . .”

“I don’t have a good reason to be mad at you,” she continues, wiping her cheek with her hand. “I knew this entire arrangement was about your career. You said on the day you made the offer that it wouldn’t hurt to annoy your ex-girlfriend. I have no right to be upset.”

That she even suggests that makes my stomach churn.

“That’s not true. You have every right to be upset.

This might’ve started out as a contract, but that’s not how it stayed.

I meant what I said yesterday. This stopped being fake a long time ago.

I haven’t been spending time with you for sponsors or Sofia or anyone except myself. ”

I’m not sure when I stopped hanging out with her because of the contract and started to because I wanted to.

Probably earlier than I realise. Being with Millie makes everything innately better.

After our photoshoot on the beach, we’d made our intentions clear, that this isn’t pretend anymore.

That’s probably why she’s looking at me like I’ve torn out her heart and stomped on it.

What I wouldn’t give to get inside her brain and trawl through her thoughts, even the painful ones, so I could understand her better.

“None of that matters now,” Millie says, her voice raspy. “You fly to Hawaii in a few days and go straight to Portugal after that. What did we think would happen?”

“That’s why we were going to talk,” I say, willing my heart to slow down. “Keep on this communication path and be adults. Obviously, I messed up with the adult part today.”

Millie takes a deep breath as she wipes her eyes, evidence that maybe she does feel something more than quiet, numb rage.

I am a piece of shit. Regardless of whether Sofia kissed me, I should’ve told Millie she was going to be there.

I should’ve found a way to contact her, knowing the chance of us being seen was possible.

I could’ve said no to the after party with Salt Skin and suggested another time.

But once again, my actions hurt someone I care about, and it’s physically slicing my insides.

“Everything I’ve said to you is the truth,” I say, noting the desperation in my voice. “In the beginning it was for my career, but eventually, I wasn’t doing it for the photos or the kudos. I love being with you. Nothing has changed since this morning.”

She gives me a sad smile. “Everything’s changed, Noah. We were kidding ourselves. Today proved that.”

“No.” The quiet, pained objection slips from my mouth. “Please, don’t do this.”

She shifts past me, heading back towards the front door. “We fulfilled our contractual obligations. There’s nothing left for us to talk about.”

“Come with me.” I grab her hands and her eyes widen. A sign of life. “I want you to come with me.”

She frowns. “What?”

“I thought about it today,” I explain. “Before this happened. I want you to come on the tour.”

She looks stunned. “Come with you?”

I nod, gripping her hands tighter. “You could come see the world with me. Make new friends, take photos of beautiful places. I’d cover the costs of flying you home whenever you wanted, so you can see Ellis and Winston.”

For a moment, I swear she considers my offer. That her stoic, hard exterior cracks a little. Her gaze softens, and her big, watery eyes search mine, before she gives me a half-hearted smile. “We don’t know each other well enough to do something like that.”

“That’s not true.” I squeeze her hands. “And that’s what it’d be for. To get to know each other better.”

She takes a deep breath, her hardened expression returning.

“I don’t want to come with you.” My stomach sinks at the words and the furious look on her face.

“And if you think I’d leave the only family I have to follow a man whose career will always come before everything else, you don’t know me at all. ”

The words cut through my skin, but I can’t find it in me to be upset with her. I deserve every bit of it.

Even though my hands are around her wrists, I feel her slipping away, physically and emotionally.

She’s shutting down, reverting to logic and sensibility, prioritising her family, like she always has.

I’ve become an inconvenience in her life, and I’ve run out of ways to convince her otherwise.

And as much as I care about someone, I never want to convince someone to be with me.

I release her. “You’re right.”

Her eyebrows raise slightly, as if she’s surprised, but she smooths her expression. “I’ll speak to Mack about how to proceed in terms of social media, if that helps.”

No. None of this helps. I don’t give a shit about any of it.

“Do me a favour?” she asks, swinging open the door to the downpour outside.

“Anything.”

“Don’t contact me.” She inhales a shaky breath. “Please.”

The pumping organ beneath my ribs swells painfully as I nod. “I’ll make sure you get your payment.”

“I don’t want your money?—”

“Salt Skin is sponsoring me,” I cut in roughly. She watches me, wordlessly. “I’ll transfer the money.”

We stare at each other before I turn and head out into the rain again, the door closing and locking behind me with a deafening click.