The Truth About Lennon
Just thinking about Noah and the times we’ve spent together makes me smile. The food fight. Making out on the bleachers. Cooking dinner. Having a tea party with Nova. Making love to him—oh, yes, all the times we’ve made love.
“I did. I fell madly in love with him and his daughter. This is my home now; they are part of my life. You are not.”
Mathis’s chest heaves harder with each word I say. His fists clench tight at his side, fire blazing from his eyes
. He’s never hit me before, and I’ve never been scared that he would, but instinctively, I take a step back. Mathis grabs my arm.
“I’m your life,” he growls, yanking me forward.
The front door flies open, the bell above the door clanging loud against the glass as Noah storms into the shop. His eyes lock on Mathis’s hand as Mathis spins around.
“Let her go.” Noah’s voice remains calm, but I can tell he’s anything but.
Mathis glares at Noah, and they have some sort of stand-off. After several seconds, I jerk my arm away, and Mathis lets me go. I run straight into Noah’s arms.
He wraps me up, pulling me tight against his side. “You hurt?” he asks, examining the red finger marks on my arm.
“I’m fine,” I whisper, the emotion from everything finally catching up to me. “You make everything fine.”
He kisses me softly, and Mathis cackles loud and long from where he’s retreated across the room. “Well, isn’t this fucking beautiful?” he declares in a voice that can only mean trouble.
I bury myself against Noah, because when I’m in his arms, nothing Mathis says can get to me.
“Kind of surprising,” Mathis says, taking a step toward us, “that you’d choose another druggy after what happened to Kim.”
Except that—that can get to me.
Noah’s body goes rigid against mine, but I rejoice when he keeps his arms firmly locked around me.
“Wait?” Mathis wags his finger at Noah and me. “You did tell him, didn’t you?”
“Mathis.” I shake my head, silently pleading with him. “No one needs to hear any more of your lies. Why are you doing this?”
“Why am I doing this?” he admonishes. “Because you’re mine.” His voice booms through Charlotte’s shop, loud and strong. “You’re a St. James. Your father is likely going to be our next vice president.”
I feel Noah’s eyes on me as Mathis speaks, but I can’t look up. Not yet. I don’t have the courage. So I stay focused on Mathis, absorbing each hateful hit, one syllable at a time.
“Do you really think he’s going to let you be with someone like him?” he spits, motioning toward Noah, who has now released his arm from around my waist.
“What’s he talking about?” Noah says softly.
Closing my eyes, I gather every last bit of courage I can find and hold on to the knowledge that Noah and I are meant to be together, and that he will forgive me for what I’ve kept from him once he understands. When I open my eyes, Noah’s watching me curiously. He doesn’t look pissed, but he sure as hell doesn’t look happy.
“Oh, this is getting better by the minute,” Mathis says. “You failed to tell him that part too, didn’t you? Well, let me do it for you—”
“Mathis—”
“Lennon is heir to the Barrick-St. James empire, and oh, what an empire it is.”
“Mathis, don’t,” I plead.
“Her father, Christopher St. James, owns one of the biggest companies in the country and will likely be your next vice president. But it gets better,” he says, taking a step toward Noah.
Hate for Mathis overpowers every other emotion I’m feeling, and it pushes me forward. I shove at his chest, but he just laughs at me.
“Her mother is Renee Barrick, one of the most powerful A-list celebrities in the country. You’ve heard of her, right?”
I push again, harder and harder, shoving him back each time, but he doesn’t stop. My anger only fuels his until his words explode around me.