The Truth About Lennon - Page 93

That’s exactly what Noah did. He took my choice away. He decided what was best for both of us when he chose not to believe me. But maybe that’s what I needed from him. Being back in New York, working on the charity auction, and fielding calls from my parents and Mathis and the press has made me realize that no matter what my heart wants, my life is too messy for Nova and Noah.

“I know—”

“We were friends first, and I realize it’s your job to look out for my dad when it comes to his reputation and the media, but I am not included in that package.”

“Leni—”

“So next time you get some crazy idea in your head that involves me, just forget about it. I allowed my father to dictate how to handle the media this last time, but I assure you he will not dictate how I handle things moving forward, and if you don’t like that then…then…suck it!”

Fists planted on her hips, Brenna cocks a brow. “Are you done?”

I nod. “I think so.”

“Good. Because I came to tell you I’m sorry, and you’re right.”

“Of course I’m—wait, what?”

Brenna sighs, her arms falling limply at her sides. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have interfered. I love working for your dad. It’s my dream job, but you and I are friends, and I need to do better at separating the two.”

“Right.” I nod. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

She grins. “Am I forgiven?”

I can forgive her—that part is easy. But I can’t forget the way she treated me.

“Of course I forgive you,” I say, pulling her in for a hug.

“Don’t mess up my hair,” she says. “Took a team of people to make me look this good.”

“Oh, shut up.” I roll my eyes. “You crawl out of bed looking gorgeous. Me, on the other hand, I could use your team. Where are they?” I ask jokingly.

“You don’t need a team,” she whispers, tugging at a strand of my hair. “You’re beautiful the way you are.”

“Thank you.” I turn toward the mirror, taking one last look at myself.

I decided against my usual team for this event, because the big fancy coiffure and airbrushed makeup just isn’t me. Instead, I did it myself. Beachy waves on my shoulder-length hair, enough makeup to disguise the pale look of my skin—a stark reminder of my lack of sleep—a hint of mascara, and voila. I’m good to go. Minus the heartbreak I’m always trying to hide.

I would give anything to have Noah here with me tonight, but I know that’s not going to happen, and it’s for the best.

“I love that dress. Is it a Barrick-St. James original?”

Looking down, I smooth my hands over the pale yellow chiffon. It has a simple plunging V neck with a wide empire waist and a slit straight up the front, stopping midthigh.

The slit was for Noah, so he could slide his hand up my leg under the table as I desperately tried not to scream in front of a dozen or so charity donors. And then later, after Nova was asleep, I’d have him pin me against the window of our hotel suite and make slow, sweet love to me. And I wouldn’t care at all that anyone on the streets below could see, because I would only be able to concentrate on one thing: Noah’s mouth as it—

No. I can’t keep torturing myself like this.

I thought every day it would get easier, that I’d eventually stop thinking about him every single second, but I was wrong. If anything, it’s gotten harder. Noah is the first thing I think about when I get up, and I fall asleep every night with visions of him in my head. I can’t shake the feeling that I’ll never meet another man like him, and at this rate, I’ll still be pining for him when I’m old and gray.

It took me two fucking weeks to fall in love with him. Why can’t it take just that long to fall out of love with him?

But none of that matters. My feelings don’t matter because I want what’s best for Noah and Nova, and that’s clearly not me. My life will probably only get crazier once my dad and Mr. Morgan win the election. I’ve done a good job at staying out of the media, until recently of course, but it’s going to become increasingly more difficult. My past would be thrown in Noah’s face over and over again, and that’s not fair to him.

“Lennon.”

Brenna touches my flushed skin, and I shake my head. “Uh, yeah. Sorry. Just spaced out there for a second. What was your question?”

“I asked if you made your dress.”

Tags: K. L. Grayson Romance
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