“I mean it, Noah,” she pouted. “It’s not normal for a guy to be friends with a girl.”
“Hey, all those people did it on Friends.”
Her eyebrows lowered into a scowl. “They all ended up sleeping with each other like some exotic swingers club.”
Noah wondered how he’d missed the X-rated version of the series—and where he could find it—but he suspected she wouldn’t appreciate the question. “Why does it have to be either or?” he asked in frustration as he jumped to his feet, his anxiety rising to an all-time high. He didn’t need this in addition to everything else. “Why can’t I be friends with her and have you too?”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
“If you met her, I’m sure you’d change your mind. Come to the wedding with me tomorrow. I’ll buy you a ticket.” He wasn’t sure where that had come from, but now that he’d said it, it seemed like a good next step in their relationship. It would show her that she had nothing to worry about, that he was in this for real.
She shook her head vehemently. “No. No way. In fact, if you go to that wedding, you and I are done.”
His eyes widened. “What?”
Rising from the couch, she planted her hands on her hips, her lips pursed like she was trying out for some lipstick commercial.
“Donna, I’m in the fucking wedding! I have to go!” But even as he said the words, he realized how much he really didn’t want to go.
“It’s her or me, Noah.” Then she stomped out of his apartment.
Noah was torn. He really wanted to be there for Libby, but he wasn’t sure he could bear to watch her exchange vows with the world’s biggest Arkansas Razorbacks fan. Not to mention the fact that he had no desire to see his brother. He was sick to death of people believing the worst of him, especially since he was trying so hard to change. Besides, if he broke up with Donna, he’d be drowned in a chorus of I told you so. He wasn’t sure he could handle that on top of the rawness he felt about Libby’s impending marriage.
So after a long sleepless night, he texted Josh the next morning and told him something with Donna had come up and he wasn’t coming. He worried about hurting Libby, but she was marrying Mitch, the man she claimed to love. Why would she care if he came or not? She’d made her choice; it was time for him to worry about his own love life.
Donna . . . he could do this. He could be in a long-term committed relationship. He just needed to make more of an effort. He picked up his phone and called her, mulling over the idea of asking her to move into his apartment. Wasn’t that what couples did when they took things to the next level?
“Did you decide?” she asked in a snotty tone when she answered.
“I’m not going.”
“Wise choice, McMillan.” Her voice took on a husky tone. “I’ll be right over.”
He made a pot of coffee, wondering when he should ask her to move in. After they had sex or before?
But when he opened the door for her, apprehension sucked his breath away. Could he really spend the rest of his life with someone who only wanted him if he met the requirements of some checklist? Someone who’d asked him to cut off a close friend? Someone, he suddenly realized, he barely tolerated? He’d rather be alone and dateless for the rest of his life.
But something even more shocking hit him and the realization nearly knocked him over. He didn’t want to build a life with just anyone.
He wanted it with Libby—and only Libby.
He had to get to Kansas City and stop the wedding.
Noah put a hand on the doorframe, blocking her entry. “I made a mistake.”
“I know.” She batted her eyelashes. “And you rectified it, so let me in.” She opened her trench coat, revealing a sexy outfit of black lingerie. He felt absolutely nothing, which only strengthened his resolve.
“No. I don’t think you understand.” Why had he been such an idiot? “Choosing you was the mistake. I’m sorry, Donna, we’re done.”
She dropped the hold on her coat, her lingerie still exposed as she put her hands on her nonexistent hips. “Think long and hard about this, Noah McMillan. You’re never going to amount to anything without me. I was probably your one last chance to make something of yourself.”
Maybe she was right, but he was willing to take that chance. “Then I guess I’ll be the low-life slacker I was meant to be, because I’m done.” Then he shut the door on her stunned face.
How had he been such a fool?
He ran to his bedroom to throw some clothes in a suitcase and grab the bag with his rented tux. He hadn’t canceled his flight, and if he hurried, he could still make it there in time to stop her from making the worst mistake of her life.
Thankfully, Donna had left by the time he ran to his car and sped to the airport . . . only to discover his flight was delayed. While he waited, he opened his Facebook app and found a Tiffany Brown who lived in Seattle, went to Oregon State, worked for Scott Abrahams, and was in a relationship labeled “it’s complicated.” He sent her a friend request, knowing it was a long shot, in the hopes she could give him inside info about Scott Abrahams and the competition.
After a delay on the ground, the plane touched down three hours late, which meant the wedding was due to start in just half an hour. But when he tried to call Lib to tell her he was coming and to hold off going down the aisle until he got there, he realized his phone was dead. The night before had been so intense, he’d forgotten to charge it.