Page 81 of Your Fault

I started to get up, but my father’s eyes told me it was better to stay where I was. Sophia could tell what was going on and brought up another subject before the situation got too uncomfortable. A moment later, though, I heard the front door slam.

Shit!

I got up, no longer caring what anyone thought, and walked out to the porch, where I saw Noah pulling out in her convertible, speeding down the driveway, and turning away.

What was she doing?

I went back inside to grab my keys from the table by the door. Raffaella emerged from out of nowhere and gave me the nastiest look she could muster.

“I asked you to take things slow,” she said. I thought I lost whatever credit I might ever have had with her in that moment.

“Raffaella…”

“I asked for one thing, and your father and I promised not to get involved in your relationship as long as you were discreet. I guess that deal’s off now.”

What is that supposed to mean?I wondered as she stepped closer to me.

“Go bring her back… This isn’t a good day for her to be by herself.”

Something lit up in my brain when she said that.

“What do you mean?”

Impassively, she said, “It’s been a year since the kidnapping…a year since her father died.”

I had no idea where she might have gone. Like an idiot, I kept trying to think of places at the same time as I reproached myselffor being so blind. She had even brought it up the day before, when she was drunk, but goddammit! In that state I hadn’t realized… How could I have forgotten the date? I still remembered the terror in her eyes as the pistol was pointed at her head. I still remembered how my heart had almost leapt out of my chest when I’d heard the shot… The shot that I thought, for a second, had actually hit Noah. That nightmare had been dead and buried in the back of my mind; I hadn’t wanted to dig it up.

But obviously Noah had forgotten nothing. Deny them as she might, the nightmares were still there, and I was sure she’d kept sleeping with the lights on when she wasn’t with me. Her father was dead now. He was gone; no one could hurt her anymore. Why couldn’t she just say goodbye to those bad memories once and for all?

After thinking things over, I thought I knew where I could find her.

With an anxious feeling, I drove toward the cemetery. When I got there and saw Noah’s car parked on the gravel lot by the gate, I breathed a sigh of relief and hurried out. I’d never been to that place. My grandmother was in a private mausoleum on the other end of town. It had cost a small fortune to bury her there, but looking around, it suddenly seemed worth it.

I noticed how cool the night was as I walked in and thought about how Noah had left without even throwing on a coat. I’d nearly laughed when I first saw her at the table in her T-shirt, and I think I’d loved her a little more then, if that was possible, seeing her looking so beautiful, so simple. She didn’t have to do anything fancy to be gorgeous. I saw that more and more every day.

I walked between the gravestones, looking for the last name Morgan. Many of them were run-down, and only a few had flowers or any sign that someone remembered the people buried there.

Then I saw her. She was sitting on the grass in front of a stone. From where I stood, I couldn’t read the inscription. I watched her for a moment before walking over. She was hugging her legs. She wiped away her tears with the back of her hand when she caught sight of me rushing over.

She stood up, looking vulnerable and lost. I thought I saw guilt in her eyes.

“What are you doing here?” I couldn’t help but ask her. I couldn’t understand why she’d visit the grave of a man who’d nearly killed her. I slipped off my jacket and laid it over her shoulders as she shivered.

“You shouldn’t have followed me,” she said, looking down.

“I couldn’t help it. Especially not when my girlfriend decided to drop a bomb in the middle of dinner and take off running right afterward.”

That made her look a little guilty, but only for a second.

“I was like a fifth wheel at that dinner. You seemed to be enjoying yourself, though.”

I wasn’t going to let that slide. I got that she was jealous of Sophie, but that had nothing to do with me or with us living together, which was way bigger, way more important, than all that.

“Why did you come here, Noah?” I asked her again, trying as hard as I could to comprehend. “Tell me why you’re crying over the death of a man who tried to kill you. Explain it to me because I’m going crazy trying to understand.”

She looked over at the stone, anxious. “Let’s just go,” she said, grabbing my hand. “I want to leave. Take me home, or take me to your place—I don’t care,” she said, pulling my arm.

Her reaction surprised me. She seemed to be hiding something. Instinctively, I looked over at her father’s grave.