Outside, pearly white puffs of air rise from my lips. It was too cold to be outside in an evening gown without a coat on. But I needed calm to steady myself after Scum Bitch. I don't know what it is about Noah, but being around the things he created steadied me. Of course, I gravitated toward the boat with the blue spotlights that look like waves in the water. His thick brush paintings of the sea with lights on them. The visual presentation of a tiny boat in the middle of a storm. As my gaze lifts from the stern of the ship to the mast. The white sails were full of a wind that didn't exist. Made that way for the presentation of the visual arts. I couldn't escape my memories of Noah. I didn't want to escape my ghosts, in all honesty. I let myself have the thought without reserve for once. Without guilt at this art, we created together. This majestic ship and these beautiful paintings shine shining up into the night sky.

A warm hand slips a too-large tux jacket onto my shoulders. Saltness mix with the smell of pine. The thoughts didn't connect. The feeling of that jacket's warmth on my shoulders, none of it connected. It was another ghost, right? It was the feeling of a massive chest directly behind me that knocked me out of my daze. I knew that chest. But for some reason, turning around scared the fuck out of me. If I turned around and it wasn't real. If it was another ghost, another shadow in the corner. I couldn't handle it if it wasn't real.

I had to. I had to do it.

With my breath held, I looked behind me. Expecting another ghost or some nice guy. Sandy blonde hair and ocean blue eyes took me back to our first meeting instantly. Where he didn't even say hello to me the first time. My hand shook and the urge to reach out and touch him and make sure he was real. Make sure I didn't wake up. I never want to wake up sometimes when I'm with him. But I kept my hands to myself. Turning on the spot and taking a single step back. He was bigger, so damn larger. The tux wasn't one I had sent to the cleaners before the event. It was brand new and I highly doubt he'd be able to fit the old tuxedo. His arms were bigger, shoulders, traps, thighs. Everything was super-sized. It wasn't like he wasn't a big guy before. Noah doesn't look like a painter. He's huge, like a wrestler or some pro-NFL football tight end. And now he's even better, even bigger. But his hair is up in a bun, which is different. Noah was wearing a tux and his hair up instead of the lumberjack guy accustomed to. It's different. I'm not used to it at all. Instead, he looks so urban and refined. Not like the Noah I know. Still a Roman God Neptune though.

He wasn't talking. Why isn't he talking? The words I should be saying to fill this didn't escape my mouth. I felt like a fish out of water. But the conversation we really needed to have didn't happen. As the sound of voices heading for the sailing ship got louder.

"Follow me. We should get you ready for your interview." I was shutting down. The mask of professionalism was slipping on. That needy part that had been reaching out for Noah since he left was shoved down as deep as I could put her. As dead as I could make her. His jaw twitched at my words. But he followed me. I should have said more welcome back, but what can you say? Really, I've been trying to think of something since the day he walked out.

His footfalls behind me were heavy but consistent, and that steady Noah feeling was there. Through the side door, passing the press, and guests at the museum, the doors opening and closing in our wake. Even with his new urbane look, he was still steadying Noah down deep. At least that's the vibe I got. Although, I didn't touch him or reach for him like I badly want to. But he was still Noah, just not my Noah anymore.

I stop in front of the green room door. Above my head, Noah pushes the door open, and I walked in. I hand him back his jacket. When he put the tuxedo jacket back on, he was so sophisticated. It was a striking cut on his heavily muscled frame. He buttons the jacket. And the words that should be between us are just not there. A sea of things that should be said that isn't and my heart is fucking breaking.

With a lean, I lock the door. "If you need to lock the door for changing or cleaning up, that's how you do it. It's an inner lock, so you can open it or close it. It's your green room." What I should be saying. Where have you been? I missed you. Hold me. I need you. I love you. I'm sorry. These thoughts raced faster than I could process and they remained unsaid. My professional mask didn't slip. I ended it. It is what it is. It was the right move for me and my family, but fuck, it still hurt.

"Thank you," the first thing Noah said to me in a long. His rich, deep voice was still quiet with his words. Sparse watery landscape and distance from me. I'm not even sure how he made the words between us seem so distant in nautical miles in such a small room. I always thought of Noah as a Roman Sea God Neptune. Before I knew how much he enjoyed woodworking and making sailing boats. There was something about him that just had that ocean feeling to him. But with that, it seems a presence about him came with it. Even when we first met and he barely said anything to me, he never made me feel so distant from him.

"You're welcome," I step around him. I needed air badly. I'd come back and get him, but I needed to decompress right now. And with my hand ready to unlock the door, he moved. His touch was an energy that jolted into my body. It was that memory that was real. It was Noah, and the connection was still there. A magnetic ocean storm of emotion as we leaned our heads against each other because touch was needed. Demanded. His big hand grasps my thick hip. Turning me into his warm, massive body. Noah brings me in tight and I keep my hands to my side. His forehead leans again against mine and we share the same warm breath, swapping it inches apart. My eyes burn and slow tears slip down my cheeks. I'm going to ruin my makeup. Fuck.

Noah's hand touches my collarbone, and I shiver at that tiny contact. His fingers played with the diamond necklace. I can feel his smile against me. He was so close. "You look like.." But didn't finish.

His hand shifts to my lower back, pulling me flush to his chest. Noah's almost thirty and last year. I became his first everything romantically. From kissing to sex and more. I was everything for him relationship-wise. Maybe all we did was fuck, but this closeness was so automatic it couldn't be denied by either of us. When his lips press against mine, the salty taste of my capture tears between us. I relaxed into that and open for him. His tongue teases at mine. Sweeping in and we join together and I suck on his tongue. Noah's deep, luscious groan hit me right in my core.

With that groan, I snap out of it, taking a step to the side, away from him. I was out of breath, completely high on the burn low in my belly. Mixing with that taste of salt was confusing. I turn to the mirror behind me, grabbing at the tissues roughly on the counter and tabbing at my makeup to fix it. For the most part, it was saveable. I wasn't wearing tons of makeup. Breathe deep, and center yourself. You can do this Tari. The self pep talk only partly worked. When I turned from my guilty reflection in the mirror, urbane level up, Noah was reaching for me again. I step away from his questing touch.

"Noah, where did you go?" And he looked at me like that question to him was like cold water. An ugly bucket of ice was thrown his way. He touches his thumb to his finger. His finger taps against his thumb, switching to another finger as his fingers fidget. The eye contact that was so rare for Noah was gone. Those ocean eyes became cloudy and his eyes shift away from me.

My gaze was locked on those fingers. The sign of his agitation and things getting away from him. The railroad shut down meltdown which has happened before. With a glimpse, he spotted my eyes on his hands. And then Noah stuffs his fidgeting hands into his pocket, turning away from me. Fuck..

My heart sank. I wanted to reach for him, take it all back... fix it. But what can I fix when I was the one who broke it again? Those shattered ocean eyes were so reminiscent of the night he walked in on me and Zoey talking and me ending it. It was as if time didn't happen and I was trapped in an endless loop of the right decision the wrong way.

I close the distance between us, stepping into his warmth. Eliminating that space between us. With a single half-inch separating me from him and I don't touch him. The tears I so carefully held somewhat in check returned.

"I'm sorry....." for everything. The word was unsaid but loud between us. Maybe the regret I felt showed. Because Noah's eyes that so rarely made contact with mine were filled with something so raw. That something I couldn't place. The ledge that overlooked the vast ocean fell, and Noah came at me like a tsunami.

A/n: Yall, stuck with me. This bonus chapter in the same week is for everyone who kept reading. Thank you!