Chapter 68

Hannah

Noah’s breath fanned across my skin, raising trails of goosebumps in its wake.

“I’m… I’m not pregnant, Noah,” I said slowly, willing my voice to remain steady beneath his glare. His eyes bored into mine, that piercing green gaze somehow making me feel utterly exposed despite the dim lighting of the restaurant.

“Don’t lie to me,” he growled again, his fingers flexing against my abdomen. “You haven’t had a drop of alcohol in weeks now. And you’ve been throwing up, I know you have… And your cravings…”

His voice trailed off, and I felt a flush of heat creep up the back of my neck. It was true—all of those things were true. I was pregnant. But I couldn’t tell him; not now, not when we only had two months left before our divorce.

Noah seemed to sense my hesitation, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly as he leaned in even closer. I could smell the tang of champagne on his breath, see the slight flush dusting his chiseled cheekbones as the alcohol began to kick in.

“I know what you’re like, better than you think I do,” he rumbled. “You used to drink all the time, maybe even a bit too much if we’re being honest. But now…”

He shook his head slowly, his eyes flickering down to my stomach once more. “Something’s different.”

I opened my mouth, struggling to find the words to reassure him even though I knew all of it would be a lie. Swallowing hard, I reached down and gripped his wrist, guiding his palm flat against my emaciated stomach.

“Do I even look pregnant to you?” I asked quietly, unable to keep the slight tremor from creeping into my voice. “I’m… I’m thinner than ever, Noah. Just look at me. I’m disgusting.”

Noah’s gaze dropped to where my body met his hand, where his fingers were splayed over the satin material of my new dress. I watched his throat work as he swallowed hard, the muscles in his jaw ticking almost imperceptibly.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of nothing but silence, Noah stepped back abruptly, releasing me from his intense scrutiny. I felt like I could breathe again as his solid warmth retreated away from me.

“You’re right—about one thing,” he said quietly. “You do seem thinner. But…”

He paused, swallowing hard again before he turned his head and continued. “You’re not disgusting, Hannah.”

Those last words struck me to my core, and they seemed to do the same for him. I watched as a muscle jumped in his chiseled jaw, conflict flickering behind those green eyes of his. Part of me wanted to reach out, to pull him back toward me. But the other part, the sicker part…

The other part of me felt relieved that he had finally noticed.

Maybe it was twisted. But I couldn’t deny the small flutter of satisfaction—that maybe, just maybe, he cared. Even if only a little.

“Thank you,” I said simply.

He stared at me for a long moment, seemingly weighing my words. Then, almost of its own accord, his hand lifted, those long fingers skimming the soft flesh of my cheek before I had a chance to recoil.

“Just promise me,” he said gruffly, “that you won’t take those damn diet pills anymore. Or.. .or make yourself sick.” His expression twisted briefly, as though the very thought was distasteful to him.

I felt heat rushing to my face, a potent combination of shame and relief and guilt over the fact that I hadn’t told him what I had learned about the diet pills. For a moment, I almost did tell him; but not now. Not tonight. Another night.

Wordlessly, I extended my hand and stuck my pinky out.

“I pinky promise.”

Noah’s eyes crinkled ever so slightly at the corners as he stared at my small finger for a moment. Then, slowly, he lifted his own hand and curled his larger finger around mine.

“Like we used to,” I said softly, feeling an inexplicable sting behind my eyes at the memory of days long ago when we participated in silly, romantic little gestures like pinky promises and butterfly kisses. “Do you remember?”

The smallest hint of a lopsided smile tugged at the corner of Noah’s mouth as he gave a slow nod. “It’s been a while, but yes. I remember. I think the last time was on our honeymoon.”

The words knocked the breath from my lungs in a surprised little huff. My mouth curved upwards despite myself as I felt a distant memory tug at the edges of my consciousness. “You really remember that?”

“Of course I do.” Noah’s voice was low, so low I almost couldn’t hear it. “I pinky promised to… to always love you.”

The breath caught in my throat as my eyes snapped up to meet his, that fluttery, hopeful feeling suddenly surging through me like I was falling in love all over again. “Noah…”

But the moment was broken as a strange shadow flickered across his expression, his eyes going shuttered and distant as he seemed to remember something. His hand fell away from mine as he straightened abruptly and smoothed down his jacket.

“But you broke that promise,” I found myself saying, the words slipping out from between my lips before I could stop them.

Noah’s jaw clenched hard, the muscle beneath his skin ticking furiously as he stared down at me for a long few moments. I could practically see the anger, the frustration roiling just beneath the surface, threatening to boil over.

There it is, I thought to myself. The man beneath the mask.

I guess I felt a little bad for goading him out. I liked this gentlemanly version of him; maybe I had been too harsh just then.

Then, just as abruptly, the storm seemed to pass. His expression went carefully blank as he simply turned on his heel and started walking back toward the main event space, leaving me to trail uncertainly after him.

The dull roar of mingled conversation and soft music washed over us as Noah led us back out onto the edge of the dance floor. I opened my mouth to speak—but the words caught in my throat as he turned suddenly, sweeping me into his arms in one smooth motion.

“Noah, what—?”

“Just dance with me,” he said curtly, his palm settling against the small of my back as he guided us into a slow waltz to the time of the music.

I had no choice but to go along with him, falling into step beside him almost automatically. We moved together in silence for several endless moments before I found my voice again.

“What’s your angle tonight?” The question slipped out before I could think better of it, my eyes searching his closed expression for any hint of what was going through that unfathomable mind of his.

“What do you mean?”

I shrugged. “You’re being… a perfect gentleman.” Despite you egging him on, I thought to myself before continuing. “So unlike you.”

A muscle twitched just above Noah’s eye, but his gaze remained steadfastly fixed over my shoulder, refusing to meet my gaze.

“I don’t have an angle,” he finally said in a perfectly measured tone.

I scoffed before I could stop myself, the sound sharp and disbelieving even to my own ears. “You’re going to try and tell me you don’t want something from me? That this whole…” I waved a hand vaguely, indicating his pristine tuxedo, the lavish event surrounding us, “...thing isn’t just to get something that you want? Just like the diamond necklace?”

Those piercing green eyes flickered briefly in my direction, holding my gaze for the smallest fraction of a second before sliding away again. But in that fleeting instant, I thought I caught a glimpse of… something. Something raw, unguarded.

Almost like regret.

Then, just when I was certain he was going to brush me off or pull away entirely, Noah moved so quickly and with such unexpected purpose that I let out a gasp.

One moment I was staring up at him, swaying slowly to the music. The next, his hands were cupping my face, tilting my chin up. His lips locked together with mine for the first time in…

Forever.