The Best is Yet to Come

Thirty Six: Noah

It felt like someone was stepping on my heart.

Emma is small in my arms, huddled in a little ball, like she was trying to make herself as tiny as possible. Her face is squished against my shoulder, slick from her tears. I vaguely remember my dream from a few days ago and shudder from the overwhelming sense of deja vu.

I feel helpless; I don't know what to do. God damn it, I don't even know why she's crying!

I wrap my arms around her tighter, engulfing her petite frame. Her shoulders shake against me and my heart squeezes painfully.

"You're going to be ok." I whisper against her; pieces of her hair sticking to my lips. "Everything's fine, Emma. Hush, baby." I soothe.

She just sobs harder at this so I vow to keep my mouth shut until she calms down. I kneel down, bringing us to the ground and position her comfortably in my lap. She buries her face in the crook of my neck and I rub her back in small circles until eventually, her breathing slows.

She doesn't move from my arms, not even when her tears stop and the room grows quiet. After a few minutes, her voice slices through the silence.

"I'm sorry." Her voice cracks and I want to kiss her.

"Shh."

"Noah, please." She whimpers.

"Shhh. You have no reason to be sorry." Why was she in so much pain? What could have possibly done this to her?

Emma pulls back from my arms and rubs her face with the bottom of her shirt. She looks up at me; and even red rimmed and glassy, her eyes are the most beautiful shade of blue I have ever seen. Her nose is bright red and wet and her cheeks are glistening from the tears.

Without commanding them, my fingers reach up to trace the side of her face. "You're so beautiful" I say, so softly I hope she can't hear it.

She looks down. Damn it.

"Noah, I... I feel like I need to explain myself." She whispers, her lashes blinking rapidly. She's playing with her fingers nervously and I reach over to calm her shaking hands.

"You don't need to tell me anything you don't want to." I say. We all have secrets. I definitely knew a thing or two about that. "We all have demons." I tell her.

She nods her head and sniffs, "I'm sorry but I should be upfront. I'm not in a good place right now. I've been going to-"

"Shhh." I press my index finger over her lips. "Please stop apologizing. You don't need to explain yourself to me. Whatever it is you're going through-," I cup her chin, focusing my eyes on hers, "- I'm here
if you need me."

"I don't deserve you." She whispers, eyes pooling with tears again.

I give her a crooked smile and shrug my shoulders. "Maybe not. But I definitely deserve you." I press a wet kiss to her forehead with a chuckle. I meant it as a joke but I feel a twinge of panic that she might take it the wrong way.

She pulls back and I'm relieved when I'm rewarded with a small smile. I carefully cradle her head between my hands, "When you're ready," I tell her, "we can talk about it. But for right now, I believe we have a charity ball to get ready for." 

I help her up from the floor, and she turns to me, wrapping her arms around my neck. "Thank you." She whispers against my ear and I snake my arms around her waist, pressing her tight against me.

I had a feeling this wasn't going to be easy. I couldn't tell exactly what, but something in the back of my mind told me that our journey together was going to be difficult.

But not loving her, though... no. That part was going to be as easy as breathing.

*************

I end up driving Emma back to her apartment so that she can get ready for the charity dinner. This doesn't bother me in the slightest because I still needed to mentally prepare myself for tonight. I hadn't forgotten what my mother had said about Jackson and I was starting to worry about what his true intentions were.

I've been avoiding his phone calls for months. On holidays, I purposely stay out of his way, careful to avoid any private conversations. He knew I was avoiding him; he wasn't stupid but he also knew why. I had made it very clear.

After my father died, my mom had kept her word that I had freedom to choose what I wanted to study at college. My father had begged it of her days before his death, saying that I should have the option to choose whether I wanted to follow in his footsteps. He wanted me to be the first Dean to have a choice. I ended up majoring in business anyway but it was only to make my mother happy. Even so, I have no intention of joining Jackson as his CFO and he damn well knows that.

He knows I don't want to talk and yet he plans to corner me at our Mother's event. What more did he want me to say?

When I enter the apartment, Chris is sprawled lazily on the couch in his boxers with a slice of cold pizza in his hand. He glances over to me from the tv. "Hey."

I don't answer, just pull a slice out from the cardboard box for myself and join him, laying down on the couch opposite.

"Is tonight that dinner thing?" He asks me, still looking at the tv. I take an embarrassingly large bite of cold pizza. The stress from this morning has left me starving.

"Yeah. A car is coming to pick me up at four. I'll be stopping to grab Emma on the way." I say between bites and I see him smile from the couch.

"Nice! I'm happy for you, man. I can tell you really like her. And from the sounds coming from your room last night I think she might like you too." He turns to me then with a ridiculous grin glued to his face.

"Christ." I half laugh and turn my head to the side so Chris can't see the warmth in my face. Memories of Emma from last night start bleeding into my thoughts and suddenly I want to be alone with them. I get up from the couch, heading to my room where a pressed grey suit was calling to me.