Page 50 of Won’t Let You Get Away

“Luckily, the pizzeria is one of the few establishments in town that remains open until two in the morning. If you crave it, I’ll fetch it.”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if I actually called you at midnight asking for a slice,” I counter teasingly, picking up our empty glasses and following him to the sink. He takes them from me, placing them down before turning to lean against the counter.

“Whether it’s now, next week or three months from now, my offer stands. If you want it, I’ll get it for you,” he reaffirms seriously. His words warm my cheeks, but I shake my head with a smile and clear my throat.

“I should let you go,” I say hesitantly, not genuinely wanting to leave his company but aware that I’ve distracted him all afternoon and well into the evening.

“I have ice cream,” Noah blurts out just as I turn to leave the kitchen.

I glance over my shoulder and quirk an eyebrow at him. “What kind?” I ask, knowing that unless he says it’s something like pistachio, I will happily eat it.

Ten minutes later, we’re sitting on his couch finishing up our bowls of mint chocolate ice cream. All I keep thinking is that this is the most fun I’ve had in months, excluding my minor panic after the appointment which wasn’t as terrible as it could have been.

Once he left me alone in the doctor’s office to get dressed, everything began to settle in. Only then did I grasp how much I had yet to process.

Today made me realize just how unprepared I still am. The enormity of everything began to crash down in full force and all I could do was succumb to the ensuing panic.

But then Noah guided me down a random side road, leading me to a mini-paradise. He knew how to support me without being intrusive, alleviating some of the fears that were creeping in. When he invited me for dinner, I wasn’t ready to burst the happy bubble we found.

Now, I’m finding it difficult to go home for the night.

Just like when we first met, I continually find myself drawn to Noah’s presence. I’m comfortable around him in a way that I’ve never been with anyone else. Which serves as another reminder that calling off my engagement with Paul was the right decision.

Without the initial constraint of keeping things light and impersonal when we met, it’s easy to talk to Noah about almost anything. Not just today, but each day he visits the cabin to check on me. When I told him about the baby, I knew if he decided to be involved, it would force us closer.

I never envisioned craving his attention like this again, and not just physically. Although, having sex in his truck a week afterI got here didn’t help. If anything, it only intensified my cravings for more of him daily, leading to a couple of frustrating months.

But he left without a word.

The thought creeps in, reminding me of the emptiness I felt waking up the day after Christmas to find he had gone.

I understand why he did it. My parents and Tucker revealed his father had passed away right at Christmas. It’s hard to blame him for that, considering I can’t imagine what I would have done if my father had been in his place.

Yet understanding his circumstances doesn’t erase the pain I felt that morning. It doesn’t alleviate the ache from his absence or the bone deep loneliness I experienced when I found out about the pregnancy by myself.

Noah interrupts my thoughts as he takes the bowl from my hands, places it inside his, and sets them on the coffee table before sitting back beside me. He tilts his head to look at me with a small smile.

“Thank you for inviting me today. I’m glad I could be there for that, and for you.”

“I’m glad you were there,” I respond, gently nudging his shoulder with mine and returning his smile. “We’re having a boy.”

His smile widens, unmistakable tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as his gaze shifts to my midsection.

“We’re having a boy,” he whispers, repeating the phrase as if to imprint it on his mind. “I feel so…fortunate.”

The raw emotion in his voice leaves me teetering on the brink of tears.

“I think I hit the jackpot today,” I joke, playfully poking his side. “I got to see our baby, a beautiful pond, and enjoyed pizza.”

Noah’s deep laughter resonates within me and it takes effort to keep my composure. My gaze zeroes in on his lips, a warmthcoursing through me when his tongue darts out to wet them. All I can focus on is how close he is as the tension between us builds.

“Bri,” Noah cautions. “I warned you what would happen if you gave me that look again.”

I can only nod, my gaze still fixated on his mouth while I think about what it felt like for those lips to explore my body.

“Fuck it,” Noah mutters under his breath.

Before I can process what is happening, his fingers weave into my hair as he bridges the gap between us.

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