I felt two inches tall.
This wasn't the way I wanted her to believe in me. Believe that I was worthy of her respect and trust.
"So," she continued, "if you'll accept my apology, then let's take this as a fresh start, shall we?"
I found myself nodding weakly. "Apology accepted," I said quietly.
Beatrice nodded back. "Good. Let me know if Rick has any problems with the change in your role, will you?"
"I will."
On autopilot, I walked back to my office and sank heavily in the chair. I sent an email carefully worded to outline the changes to Rick, and I cc'd Marty. And just before I sent it, I added Noah as well.
After I'd hit the button, I read it over again, trying to reconcile, yet again, the whole concept of smart versus right.
Sleeping with Noah wasn't smart. But it felt so right.
Separating myself from him now that we were back was smart. But it felt wrong.
Falling in love with him … the jury was still out on whether it was smart or right.
Every cell in my body was wailing dangerously from the wrongness. That was how strong my desire was to seek him out somewhere in these black and red hallways.
My cell phone rang in my hand, Noah's name appearing like I'd summoned him. I exhaled shakily and then drew a fortifying breath before I picked up the call.
"This is Molly."
"What the hell is that email?"
I sat back in my chair. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me. What the hell is that email about?"
Quickly, I stood from my chair and went to close my office door. "You can read just fine, Noah. I don't need to explain it to you."
He made a sound of muted frustration. "I just don't … I get that it'll be difficult to be around each other for a little bit now that we're home, but that will fade. It doesn't mean you need to hide."
"I'm not hiding," I said fiercely.
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
"Bullshit."
"This has been a really fun chat, Noah. Thanks for calling."
He sighed. "I'm sorry." He gentled his voice. The sound of it, oh, I had to press my hand to my chest from what it did to my insides. "I'm frustrated, okay? I didn't think you'd disappear after what happened. Practice today was shitty, and your brother cursed my ass out for not paying attention this close to preseason, and all I could do was keep watching the doors to see if you'd show up. And it's not your fault that I couldn't pay attention, but hell, Molly, I didn't expect to come out of the locker room to that email saying you won't be around at all."
I sank back in my chair as I processed what he was saying. And what he wasn't.
In the span of one day, I'd gotten everything I thought I wanted.
Beatrice's approval and Noah's notice.
And it felt all wrong.
I didn't want to make his life harder. I didn't want him to screw up at practice because of me. I didn't want him to be frustrated about it, upset that his attention was split in this way, because he'd never tried to balance his focus before. The only thing that would do was make him resent me.
"I should have told you separately, Noah. I'm sorry I sprang it on you like that." I raked a hand through my hair, pulling the band out and wrapping it around my wrist. "But this is the best option. The smartest choice." I closed my eyes and fought the burn of tears building at the bridge of my nose. "And I think you know that."
He was quiet on the other end of the phone. And even though I ached, oh, I ached to see his face to help me decipher what he might be thinking, I knew that if he was here, if he was in my office, I'd reach for him.
"I do," he finally admitted quietly.
His agreement didn't feel good.
It felt like he shoved a rusty sword through my gut. Irrationally, I wanted him to argue. To tell me it was worth the frustration to be able to see me. But the pain served as a good reminder.
He'd always choose football.
And in turn, I had to choose myself.
"Now what?" he asked.
I leaned back in my chair and stared up at the ceiling. "Now we both do our jobs. If you're having a problem with Rick or Marty, send me an email, and I'll take care of it. And you kick ass on the field starting this weekend."
The rough sound of Noah letting out a harsh puff of air had a tear slipping down my cheek. I dashed it away with the palm of my hand.
"Okay, Molly," he said. "I can do that, if that's what you want."
"That's what I want," I said in a remarkably, miraculously steady voice. If he'd been able to see my face, he would've seen the lie immediately.