Noah

Yeah, that sounded like Emma. She knew persistence.

"I appreciate it, man." I passed him, and we rode up to the third floor together. "Can I expect movers soon, or…?"

"In a couple hours," he replied with a nod. "Sophie's taking the kids to Asher's, but I'll be around if you need any help."

"We gonna play in the pool," Ivy supplied.

I patted her head. "I bet you'll have fun."

The elevator doors opened, and part of me wanted to veer left to hide out in Tennyson and Sophie's loft, but… I exchanged a look with him and a nod, and then I headed right to the second and last loft on the floor. Mine. Not hers. There she was, and she stood up fast when she saw me.

"Noah," Emma breathed out. Her eyes welled up, and she smoothed a hand over her hair.

I said nothing as I dug out my keys and waited for Tennyson and Ivy to disappear into their place.

It hurt to see her, I had to admit. She was still fucking ugly for what she'd done, but my heart wasn't about to erase the last four years as fast as my mind had.

I entered the loft and dumped my bag in the hall.

Emma followed me inside and closed the door.

"How are you?" she asked carefully.

"Peachy," I drawled. I surveyed the large, open living room. The couch was mine, but I didn't want it anymore. The flat screen, I was keeping. "You know where the boxes are. I'll help you pack."

Heading to the kitchen, I kept looking around me. Maybe waiting for the loft to not feel like home, either. But that feeling didn't come, thankfully. I knew why, too. We'd barely spent time here together.

In the beginning of our relationship, we were mostly at her place. Then, around the same time my roommates had moved out, we'd bought the house in northern Cali.

As I opened the fridge, finding it pathetically empty, I texted Daniel and grabbed the last bottle of water.

You got me. The PA is a good idea. What's his/her number?

I needed groceries, booze, and a website of a furniture store that delivered within twenty-four hours. Not necessarily in that order.

Emma appeared with a few empty boxes and a sad expression.

"You said you wanted to talk." I grabbed one of the boxes. For now, I was numb, though that could change in a heartbeat. Not wanting to waste any time, I started opening cupboards.

"I'm not—what're you—ugh." She was frustrated. "Can we please sit down and talk like adults? You're acting like everything I've touched is tainted."

Spot on. I'd learned that my dick wasn’t tainted, but I didn’t know about the rest, and why risk it?

"That’s kinda how it feels." I shrugged and dumped a drawer of silverware into the box. "Look." I paused and faced her fully. "Almost my entire family is gone. How I deal with that is my business, and if getting your shit out of my home helps, then that’s what I'm gonna do. Are we clear on that?"

She averted her gaze and wiped away a tear rolling down her cheek. "I'm so sorry, Noah," she whispered. "I want to be here for you. I'm not a bad person, and I know you."

My phone buzzed with Daniel's response as I answered Emma. "I never said you were a bad person, but what you did?" I shook my head. "I wasn't built to forgive that kind of betrayal."

Daniel told me he was sending a guy over from an agency right away, so I thanked him and then continued packing.

Emma was quiet as she took over packing in the kitchen. Not wanting to be too close to her, I moved on to the dining area. I grabbed my toolbox and began dissembling the dining room table.

I'd fucked her on that once.

As the boxes piled up, I knew it wasn't about getting rid of the shit she'd bought. It was about getting rid of anything that came with memories of her.

"I still love you," she said, sniffling.

By now, I'd moved on to decorations and photos on the walls. "It'll pass in time." Christ, I fucking hoped it would. "There's no room for this in my life now. I need you to get that through your skull. I wanna be alone."

She started crying.

The more emotional and pleading she got, the more detached I became.

It made it easier to breathe. Fuck emotions.

*

Twenty minutes before the movers were due to arrive, we'd gotten a lot accomplished, and I'd done a decent job of not thinking too much about my family. Actually, Emma had made it easy because she made everything about her.

My new PA, Nicky, had stopped by to introduce himself and get the list of items I wanted, and I'd given him the keys to my truck before he'd left again. I'd been where he was. PAs made a shit salary—on film sets, it was sometimes nothing—so I reckoned free transportation would go a long way.