Noah bit back a mean retort. He didn’t want to talk about the fucking books, but he also desperately wanted Malcolm’s wisdom. So he said nothing.
“I love how they can make us cheer for pretty much any character if we just understand why they’re doing something. We’ll let them get away with pretty much anything—including pushing away the woman they desperately want—if they have a strong motivation. The why behind their actions.”
The entire table went quiet, every man eager to hear what Malcolm had to say, like children sitting at the feet of their favorite teacher.
“The crucial question we have to ask, both in the books and in life, is why. Why does a character do the things he does? What is the underlying cause of his fears, his mistakes?”
Noah didn’t like where Malcolm was going.
“You keep saying that you were afraid to make a move with her because she’s vulnerable,” Malcolm said. “But maybe you’re the one who’s vulnerable. Maybe you stopped kissing her not to protect her, but to protect yourself.”
The silence that followed his words this time was reverent, somber, and made Noah’s skin itch. He felt suddenly exposed, and not because he’d just admitted to making out with his best friend.
“Noah, why did you stop her from taking things further last night?”
“I told you. I wanted to make sure it was what she really wanted, that she wasn’t just upset.”
Malcolm shook his head. “You know Alexis. Would she do that?”
The sting of bile turned his mouth sour. Noah shook his head. No, she wouldn’t do that. Self-loathing bled into regret and panic as the full weight of what he’d done settled in the dark, churning pit of his stomach. After more than a year of being accused by strangers of using her body for everything from revenge to furthering her career, Noah had all but acted as if she’d done the same—of using her body to satisfy some kind of temporary emotional need.
Holy fucking shit. What had he done? He shoved his plate away and propped his elbows on the table so he could bury his face in his hands.
“I think you stopped her because you weren’t sure if it was what you wanted,” Malcolm said.
Noah looked up at that. “Of course it’s what I want!”
“Maybe all this stuff about not wanting to burden her when she’s already upset is all just one big excuse. Maybe you’re just afraid of what’s on the other end of this change in your relationship.”
Noah didn’t like the truth in that accusation. Noah ground his hands into his eyes. “This is why I never wanted to act on my feelings. Because I knew it could ruin our friendship.”
“It won’t if you tell her how you really feel.” Malcolm gently pounded a fist on Noah’s back. “And more importantly, show her how you feel. Let her see it. Let her see you.”
“Just tell me what to do,” Noah said, desperation turning his voice into a whine.
“You gotta give her some space like she asked,” Mack said. “But use the time to your advantage.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Do some hard work on yourself,” Malcolm said. “Figure out the why behind your own actions.”
Which is why, an hour later, Noah found himself carrying the book once again to his couch.
Missy found AJ red-eyed and snotty, a half-empty bottle of Jameson on the coffee table in front of him and a neglected glass in his hand. On the TV, he’d paused the video of Tara’s third-grade dance recital.
He looked up when she walked into the room. “I missed it all . . .”
“Yes, you did.”
He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Why did you give me these videos?”
Missy sighed heavily and sank down on the couch next to him. “You wanted to see them.”
“Well if your goal was to torture me, then you succeeded.”
“Why? Because you weren’t part of it? You’re romanticizing a past you wanted no part of when it was happening. You would have missed it all anyway. The dance recital? It was the same weekend that you played in your first Super Bowl. The Halloween talent show? Middle of October. That Christmas pageant? You would have missed it for a game.”
“I would have fucking found a way to attend my own daughter’s Christmas pageant.”
Missy shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. I’m leaning heavily toward not.”
She stood. “These things you’re so upset about? That’s the good stuff. You’re sitting here crying over your whiskey because you missed the holidays and the birthday parties, but you don’t see the other stuff. There are no videos of the weeks of sleepless nights where I had to walk up and down a hallway with a colicky newborn. There are no videos to show you of the homework fights and the eye-rolling years or the long hours of potty training or the embarrassing time she threw a full-on tantrum at Target and I had to carry her out like a football under my arm. Can you honestly sit here and tell me you wanted all of that? That you would have been there for all of that?”
His eyes darkened. “We’ll never know, will we? Because you fucking kept her from me.”
“You should have answered your phone.”
“You should have fucking tried harder!”
She studied him quietly. “Maybe you’re right.”
His eyes widened in surprise at her admission.
“Maybe I should have called relentlessly every day for six months instead of one. Maybe I should have mailed ultrasound photos to your apartment. Hell, maybe I should have flown cross-country with a newborn baby to show up unannounced at the NFL Draft. The thing is, I’m willing to stand here and admit to you that I could have tried harder, but only if you are willing to admit that it wouldn’t have made a difference.”
He blinked, face stony once again.
“And until you’re willing to do that, there’s nothing more for you and me to talk about.”
Missy stormed to her bedroom and slammed the door. Several minutes later, she heard her bedroom door
