International Player(6)

He released me, and as if he’d been holding me up, I had to step back to get my balance. I cleared my throat in the hope it would reset my pulse to a normal rhythm. “Welcome back,” was all I could manage.

“Wine?” Abigail asked.

“I’d love a glass of pinot noir if you have it,” Noah said.

Rob snorted. “You know we have plenty.” He turned from the saucepan in front of him and rolled his eyes at me. “This guy turned up with six cases of it. And it is so good. You normally drink red; you want to try it?”

I shook my head. “Trying to keep a clear head, so I’ll stick to white. I’ve got a busy week coming up.”

“So how was the flat hunting?” Abi asked, then turned, handing me a glass of the wine I’d brought. “He’s been out all morning looking at places.”

“Good. It’s helping me narrow down what I want,” Noah replied.

I slid onto one of the oak benches at the dining table so I faced the room. Resting my elbows on either side of my glass, I waited to hear all about Noah’s life now. His future.

I was going to need all the wine.

“And what is it you want?” Abigail asked.

“A bachelor pad,” Rob said, and I tried to keep my face neutral. “Somewhere that has mirrors on the bedroom ceiling.”

“Something central,” Noah said, ignoring Rob. “I want my commute to be short, but I need to be able to get out of the city quickly to get to the airport.”

“Didn’t you just sell your company?” Abigail asked as she poured the pinot noir into his glass. “Where are you commuting to? Are you going to get another job?”

Noah lifted one of his long, muscular legs over the bench and took a seat across from me at the kitchen table. “I’m still on the board, but I’m a non-exec, so I just have to go back to New York once a month.”

“Wow, a job where you only show up once a month—must be nice to be you,” Rob said over the clattering of the saucepans.

Rob knew as well as the rest of us that Noah worked hard. He might only have to show up in New York once a month, but Noah wasn’t a guy who took it easy just because he could. He was always working toward something.

“I’m actively looking for my next business challenge. Taking my time and seeing what captures my interest. And I’m learning to fly.”

“Flying? How?” I’d only been half listening while I’d been remembering the feel of his hot skin under my fingers.

Noah grinned. “I’m aiming for a full-on Black Swan moment. Until then, I’m going to work toward my pilot’s license.”

“Right,” I mumbled, staring into my glass. Why had I asked such an inane question? This was why I was no good at the galas and the dinners that Abi navigated so effortlessly.

“Seriously? You’re taking flying lessons?” Rob asked, glancing at Abi.

“Don’t look at me as if you need my permission. I’m not your mother.” Abi slid onto the bench beside me.

“Got my first one this week. I thought I might as well take advantage of having some free time. I’m going to do a skydiving course as well.”

“Sounds like you,” Rob said. “Action. Adventure. Is there anything you’re afraid of?”

Noah just grinned. If the building was on fire, Noah would be the one organizing the evacuation and guiding everyone to safety. He was always in control, calm and sure of himself.

“Yeah, there’s no way I can take flying lessons,” Rob muttered. “Five and a half months until everything changes.”

“So that’s not long until you guys are parents. Are you terrified?” Noah asked.

“No.” Rob placed the roast chicken on the table.

“Liar,” Abigail replied.

“Okay, mildly terrified,” Rob replied. “And of course, it doesn’t help that Abigail is insisting she’s going back to work the week after she gives birth.”

“Six weeks after. And you know the demands of the foundation. I can’t just abandon ship—baby or no baby.”

Noah glanced at me, and I rolled my eyes as a thousand memories tumbled into my head and made my heart ache. Before he’d left for New York, this had been the pattern. Rob and Abigail would snipe, quarrel, and bicker, and Noah and I would look on amused, while trying to figure out who had won our bet.

How many times would Abigail accuse Rob of being a control freak?

How often would Rob ask for permission to do something that Abigail didn’t like and then accuse her of being the control freak in the marriage?

How many bottles of wine would we get through?

Was he remembering all those things too?

“So apart from flying lessons, what’s the plan?” Abigail asked.

As she and Noah chatted, Rob filled the table with a collection of different dishes and finally sat down. Then we began to eat, passing plates and sauces, scooping potatoes, and carving chicken.

How could it be this easy to sink back into a routine with this man who’d meant so much to me? It was a relief, but at the same time, so frustrating. If only Noah could have turned into some kind of arsehole, or gotten married. Or at the very least gone bald.

At least the anticipation was over now.

I had to accept that Noah was just the same as he ever was. It was me who needed to change. Me who needed not to fall for him again. He saw me as a friend, and that’s the box I was going to keep him in—with the lid on tight.