Read Online Shatterproof by Yvonne Collins, Sandy Rideout - Free Book Online

been drunk at a launch party, and I’ve never let anyone kiss me.”
    His eyes drift over my left shoulder as he tries to put the pieces together. “You were upset about the proposal and got drunk.”
    “I was upset about the ultimatum, but that’s only part of it.”  I nudge his cup toward him. “Drink your coffee, it’s getting cold.”
    Ignoring me, he stares into space, continuing to calculate. Eventually it starts to add up. “Was the launch party for a new project you’re taking?”
    I nod, slumping in my chair.
    “And it’s out of town?” he asks.
    “Ottawa,” I say. “Reuben stuck me with the post office project.”
    “Partners don’t lead projects.” Noah pauses. “Ah. He broke his promise.”
    I nod again. “Baxter told Reuben we were getting married and he mommy-tracked me.”
    “Asshole,” Noah says. “After all you’ve done.”
    My hopes rise. Maybe sympathy will win out. “It’s never enough.” I give Noah’s coffee cup another nudge. “Drink.”
    “You’re taking Ottawa?”
    “I fought hard, but it’s an important client and Reuben only trusts me.” Noah starts to speak and I interrupt. “I know that sounds absurd, when he doesn’t trust me enough to make me partner.
    “Walk away,” Noah says.
    “Walk away? After 13 years?”
    “You’d get another job in a second.”
    “It’s probably no better anywhere else in my line of work. Anyway, it’s only Ottawa, Noah. I’ll be home every weekend.”
    “I don’t want a weekend girlfriend. I want a wife. I want a family.”
    “I’ll come home mid-week, too. I can swing that.”
    “And that’s when we’d have the baby? Mid-week?”
    “We’ll start as soon as the project is done.”
    It’s the match that lights the bomb. “That’s your answer for everything:  when the project is done, when the project is done. But nothing ever changes. You know what? If you can’t make us a priority now, you never will. So forget it.”
    I push the coffee toward him one more time. “Forget what?”
    He pushes the coffee back. “Forget me. Forget us. I can’t do this anymore.”
    “Calm down,” I say. “Drink your coffee and let’s discuss this rationally.”
    “Discuss it with your new guy. You’ll have plenty of time together in Ottawa.”
    “That’s not fair. You can’t really believe anything’s going on.”
    Shoving the chair back with a scraping noise, he stands. “Ellie, it’s over.”
    “Noah, no .”  I stand, too, and my plastic chair tips over with a clatter. “I love you. Let me figure this out. Please? I can fix it.”
    The cafeteria staff are staring and I don’t even care.
    He turns to walk away and I catch his sleeve. “I’m done,” he says, jerking his arm away.
    “You’re really breaking up with me?”  My voice is breaking now. “But it’s Valentine’s Day.”
    “You’ve never been romantic. It’s just another Tuesday, right?”
    I follow him into the foyer, still pleading. “You can’t throw away six years just like that.”
    He turns at the bank of glass doors and shakes off my hand. “I didn’t, you did. And I hope you and NTA will be very happy together.”
     

     
    I press my forehead against the cool marble wall of the restroom stall, one hand on either side. At least I’m standing. I spent the past 20 minutes kneeling beside the throne, waiting to throw up. But when someone noticed me under the door and threatened to call for help, I managed to get to my feet and assure her I’m fine.
    Eventually, I settle on the toilet and reach into my pocket for my phone. My hand hits the vial of Wonder Glass, and I consider taking a swig myself, simply to forget what just happened. But that won’t make it un-happen. And no matter what, I don’t want to forget Noah.      
    Still, I’d rewind our relationship about 18 months, if I could, to the point where the first sign of trouble appeared.
    It was a sticky summer night, and Noah and I went out for a walk after dinner. He