The Truth About Lennon
“I like this,” he says, tapping the paper before setting it on the coffee table. “I want to see more.” Grabbing my hand, Noah tugs me toward him until I’m practically in his lap. “And yes, I was reading your text. Does that make you mad?”
Tossing my phone on the table, I shake my head. “Not at all.” And that’s the God’s honest truth. “Mathis used to hate when I’d answer his phone or read a text over his shoulder.” I pause before adding. “Turns out there was a good reason why.”
“Who’s Mathis?”
“My ex.”
“We need to rethink our sitting position for this talk.” Noah pulls his wallet and phone from his front pocket and sets them on the table alongside mine. Sliding his hand along my hip, he guides me onto his lap, and I’m not about to fight him.
Okay, maybe just a bit, because there is a little girl to think about.
“What about Nova?”
“What about her?” he asks, situating me until my knees press into the fabric on either side of his hips as I straddle him. Both palms pressed against my thighs, he squeezes gently. “She sleeps like a rock. A tornado could roll through here, and she still wouldn’t wake up.”
“Impressive.”
Noah smiles. “That she is.”
Splaying my hands against Noah’s chest, I gradually slide them up as I push my body down, grinding myself against his hardness. Noah’s grip on my legs tightens. I love knowing I have this effect on him.
“I wasn’t talking about Nova.”
“Lennon.” Noah makes a sound low in his throat. “Are you trying to distract me?”
“I’m always trying to distract you. Distraction leads to fun, fun things.” And I want to talk about Mathis about as much as I want a bullet in the head.
“And I enjoy being distracted, but I want you to tell me about Mathis.”
“Mathis who?”
Noah chuckles. “Fine. You win.”
“No,” I groan. “Don’t let me off the hook that easily. You told me about Kim, so it’s only fair I tell you about Mathis.”
“Is that his real name, Mathis?”
“Yes.” Laughing, I sit back on Noah’s lap, determined to choose my words carefully. “We met in college. He was my first real boyfriend. At the time, I thought he was perfect. Always the gentleman, he opened doors, held my hand, and took me on fun dates. I should’ve known he was too good to be true.” Sighing, I shake my head. “I was naïve. Young and stupid. In year three, he proposed.”
Noah‘s lips part, and I wince. “I said yes,” I say softly. “And in year five, we broke up.”
“Wait. That’s it? I feel like there’s an entire story tucked away in there somewhere.”
Falling forward, I drop my forehead to his chest and mumble, “That’s because there is.”
I take a ragged breath in, and when I release it, I cast my memory back in time to tell Noah what happened:
“Mat?” I call out, quickly realizing he probably can’t hear me because Nirvana is blaring through the surround sound. Shutting the door, I drop my purse on the entryway table, kick off my shoes, and walk upstairs.
The faint sound of a woman giggling brings me to an abrupt halt. Every hair on my body stands up. I listen quietly, wondering if my ears are playing tricks on me. But sure enough, there it is again, and that’s definitely a woman. Slowly, I tiptoe toward Mathis’s room. The door is halfway open, and what I find nearly brings me to my knees.
“That’s it, baby,” Mathis croons. Sliding his hand up the woman’s thigh, he brings her leg around his hip and sinks into her.
My stomach churns, and when he pushes his body against hers, the woman drops her head back on the pillow. My entire world tilts on its axis.
Oh God, no!
Lizzie.