Chapter 94

Hannah

The sound of Noah’s voice made me stand so abruptly that I whacked my head on the sofa. Reeling, I clutched the side of my head and began to careen backwards, my other hand windmilling in search of something to grab onto.

“Easy, there.”

I felt two strong, warm arms wrap around me from behind, catching me before I could fall. My feet barely touched the ground now, and when I looked up, I was met with Noah’s concerned gaze.

“S-Sorry,” I said, hating how childish I sounded at that moment.

He shook his head at me bemusedly and set me down on the couch where I could collect my bearings. “What were you doing just now?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. “And why are you so jumpy?”

I opened my mouth to tell him that I had found the comb he had apparently used when he spent the night here with Zoe, but the words died in my throat before they even reached my tongue. I couldn’t bring myself to mention it right now, not when he was sitting next to me and stroking my shoulder with one of his warm, broad palms. No matter how angry I was with him, I couldn’t ruin the rare tenderness of this moment.

Instead, I turned my head to the side and pressed my lips into a thin line as though that would somehow hide the blush in my cheeks.

“Nothing,” I lied with a wave of my hand. “I just thought I dropped my necklace.”

Noah shot me a strange look. “Your necklace is still around your neck,” he replied.

I merely shrugged. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t thinking.”

For a moment, Noah just blinked at me in mild confusion, his hand still roaming my shoulder. This close, the scent of his cologne overwhelmed my senses—smokey and woodsy, like an aged whiskey or a smoldering campfire.

No doubt Zoe had smelled his scent this close, too, when they had shared a bed.

Finally, he pulled his hand away and yawned, standing. “Well, I’ll take the couch tonight,” he said. “You can have the guest room. Zoe said it’s down the hall and to the left. You can use the shower or whatever else you need.”

“I’m fine,” I said, standing myself now that the moment had been broken. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

With that, I turned around and made for the doorway. But before I could make it, I heard Noah clear his throat. Suddenly, his hand shot out past me, darting across the doorway and pressing into the molding so that I was caged in.

I felt my breath catch as I reeled back a bit, looking up at those deep green eyes of his.

“Is there something else you need?” I asked, my voice far more timid than I intended it to be. I couldn’t help it; here, beneath his gaze and the stony outline of his chest towering over me, I felt like a damsel in distress.

He paused for a moment, his eyes darting up and down my face before he finally spoke in barely more than a whisper. “Hannah, I’m… I’m sorry. For making you feel the way you did when you fell.”

As soon as he finished speaking, the tips of his ears turned red. He quickly pulled his hand away from the doorframe and took a step back to give me space to leave, but I didn’t.

“You’re sorry?” I blurted out. “You really are?”

He nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it, and I know you must have felt like shit when I walked out like that,” he said. “I should have stayed with you longer.”

Yeah, I thought to myself. You should have. But you came here instead, and slept in her bed, and….

Of course, I didn’t voice any of that. I could see the remorse in his eyes, and once again, I felt myself soften ever so slightly.

“Just… Why?” I managed, swallowing hard around the lump in my throat. “Why would you go be with her when your wife was injured at home?”

He paused, a muscle ticking in his jaw before he answered. “It was for Adam.”

“Adam?”

“I didn’t want him to watch his mom go through that all on his own,” he said. “And I didn’t trust Drake to show up. So I stayed with him here last night until his grandparents were able to come and take him back with them.”

All at once, it felt as though my insides fell out. The dented pillows, the comb, the hair…

Noah had slept here last night, but not for the reasons I had thought. He wasn’t sleeping with Zoe. He was taking care of a scared little boy.

“Oh,” was all I could manage.

There was a long silence after that, both of us unsure of what to say. Finally, reaching out, I touched his arm. “You’d make a good dad,” I said softly. “Really.”

Noah’s jaw clenched, his arm recoiling instinctively. Even I winced; I had hurt him. The last time we talked about parenthood, I had reflexively told him that I would never have children with him. But now, here I was, pregnant with a child he didn’t even know about.

“Noah, I…”

I parted my lips, the words lingering right there on the tip of my tongue. I’m pregnant, I wanted to tell him. I’m pregnant with your baby.

Goddess, I wanted to tell him more than anything. That strange, lovesick part of me wanted him to know that I was going to have his baby, that he would scoop me up into my arms and twirl me around and kiss me deeply and tell me that everything would be okay.

But I couldn’t tell him. Once again, I found myself unable to do it. Because, ultimately, that wouldn’t ever be his child—not in the ways that mattered. Everything I had imagined was just a fantasy, nothing more.

“Anyway,” he said before I could finish, pulling away, “I’m glad you ate. It’s good to see you enjoy food—I know you’ve always enjoyed it, even when you don’t want to allow yourself to.”

I couldn’t help but blush at his words as I turned to head to bed. I supposed I had always loved food, ever since I could remember. In fact…

“Hey,” I said suddenly, turning one last time to face him, “do you remember when we were teenagers, and we stole those roasted quail eggs from my parents’ kitchen?” My face took on a fond, distant look as I spoke, recalling that old memory. “My parents were furious, because the eggs were meant for guests. But the way the juice ran down our chins, the flavor… It was worth it.”

I could still remember it clear as day now: the two of us sneaking through the kitchens, stuffing roasted quail eggs into our pockets before the summer picnic. We ran from the angry chef until he eventually gave up, and we found a spot beneath a tree to feast on our spoils.

The summer breeze had caused the leaves to sway over our heads, the warm, sticky, gooey insides of the eggs running down our chins and staining our shirts. We had laughed so much, and ate until our bellies were full. And we had laughed even when we had been scolded by my parents.

When my eyes refocused on the present, however, I was met with nothing more than a confused look in Noah’s eyes. He shook his head, furrowing his brow.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Hannah.”