My hands dropped numbly into my lap.
"She stepped back because she cared more about you being focused going into this season. She stepped back because it hurt her too much to be around you. And you let her. I'm not saying that you care less about her, but holy hell, Noah, for such a smart man, you are a fucking idiot when it comes to what you feel."
I swallowed roughly.
He turned his laptop and punched a few buttons. "There, I'm sending you our rough concept trailer. I'd intended to show it to you today before you and Beatrice lost your ever-loving, control-freak minds," he mumbled. After he snapped the laptop shut, he faced me again.
"H-how did you know?" My voice sounded like someone took a rusty, chewed-up chainsaw to my throat.
"Please," Marty said. "The day she stopped filming with us, you flipped the switch into Terminator mode. It was like watching a cyborg pretend to be a human."
I gave him an unamused look.
He tapped his camera. "Can't argue with me on this, buddy. I have it on film."
Rick held up a hand. "On film or not, whether you agree or not, I like you and I like Molly. I think you guys are great together." He leaned in. "But if you can't pull your head out of your ass long enough to realize what you found in her, then you don't deserve her."
Chewing on his words was slow and uncomfortable because the grain of truth was so big that it was unavoidable. I stared at him for a minute before speaking.
"I thought you weren't supposed to force action."
He laughed. "You know, my wife was filming a nature documentary a couple of years ago, and a flock of penguins got stuck in a ravine. The crew had to watch, completely helpless, as dozens of birds tried and tried and tried to get out to no avail. And if they did nothing, that entire flock would've died. So they broke their rule about intervening and carved stairs in the ice and snow, and the penguins marched right out of that ravine as soon as they had the chance."
I shook my head. "Not sure that's a flattering comparison if you're me."
He slapped me on the back. "They were smart enough to climb those stairs, Griffin. All I'm asking you to do is open your eyes. Once you do, your life will never be the same."
Chapter Twenty-Three
Molly
My office was quiet as I typed out a reply to an email that had been sitting in my inbox for all of two minutes. The plus side to absolutely no social life for the past eight weeks was that I was on top of my game at work.
Sure, the dark circles under my eyes were as dark as the movies I'd been bingeing, and I'd accidentally bawled my eyes out watching a holiday romance movie on Netflix when I was too lazy to get up and find the remote, but at work, I was slaying.
Turns out having your heart bruised up was excellent for your professional life.
I was a quick email replier, and Noah was breaking sack records left and right.
Okay, fine, my accomplishment didn't sound as impressive as his, but I'd take my victories where I could get them.
I typed harder, ignoring the impulse to pull out my phone and watch the footage of him getting the game ball in the locker room from the day before. He'd looked … bored.
In the seven times I watched it the night before, tucked under my covers so Isabel couldn't hear me and hide my phone, I studied his face. He was smiling, but behind his eyes, I saw no spark. Absolutely nothing. And it tore uneven holes in my heart.
Someone knocked on my office door, and I called over my shoulder, "Come in."
"I hope I'm not interrupting," my boss said quietly.
Something in her tone had me pausing before I swiveled my chair to face her.
"Not at all," I said, watching her warily as she walked into my office and closed the door quietly behind her. "How was your weekend?"
She didn't sit, simply curled her fingers around the back of the chair facing me on the opposite side of my desk.
"Enlightening," she answered cryptically.
"What happened?"
"I need you to answer a question for me, and answer it honestly, Molly."
Her formality, reminiscent of when she first started, had me sitting up straight. "What is it?"
"How long have you been in a sexual relationship with Noah Griffin?"
My skin prickled hot, then ice, ice cold, sweeping between both extremes in a rush from the top of my head to my toes. "I'm not in one," I said instantly. "I haven't spoken to him in weeks."
Eight weeks and three days and like, six-ish hours. Not that I was counting with every miserable beat of my heart.
Beatrice exhaled slowly. "Then I’ll clarify. Have you ever been in a sexual relationship with him?"