Page 47 of Return To You

My thoughts trail off with the realization that Frank hasn’t been in all week, and I snort.

Peter….

“What’s so funny, Rose?” Noah asks with a bit of a bite, and I grin.

I tilt my head his way. “Oh nothing, just the big bad rockstar being jealous. Who knew, considering you ran like your butt was on fire two years ago?” His jaw flexes, and I just smile sarcastically and admit, “Peter is a friend and has actually never met Diego. Does he have feelings for me? Yeah, he does, but it’s not reciprocated, and he knows it. If and when I decide to date again, the man in my life will not be meeting Diego until he pops the question.”

With that said, I turn to look out the window again, ignoring the anger in Noah’s dark blue eyes.

He has no right to be mad. I didn’t leave him, he left me, and it’s not lost on me that he didn’t deny having a girlfriend.

He doesn’t speak, and I don’t speak to him, we instead listen to Diego’s babbles which soothe me. Slowly, I close my eyes, knowing we still have about twenty minutes before we land, but they soon fling open when Diego murmurs, “Ma-ma-ma,” with a cry I know so well, and it hits me?—

“Ah crap…” I groan, dropping my head.

“What, what is it?” Noah asks with concern as Diego starts to cry louder.

Sighing, I turn to Noah to see his eyes panicked, and I take our son, and say, “I forgot to get the bottles out of the fridge.”

Noah relaxes as I lay Diego in my arms, his hands instantly going to my flowy blue top.

“Thank God, I thought I did something wrong. I’ll have the attendant bring him some milk,” Noah says as he grabs his phone.

I shake my head, forgetting he already had the bottles made for him when I went to work, so he isn’t aware. I say, “He doesn’t have normal milk, Noah," as I lift my top a little, using it as a blanket as I place it over Diego, and unclip my bra.

Diego latches on instantly, making me wince slightly as Noah begins to say, “What do you mean he doesn’t….”

His words trail off, and I look at him to see his mouth open a little bit, his eyes on our covered son.

I raise my brow, waiting him out, but when he doesn’t say anything, I say with quite a lot of bitterness, “When your family cuts you off, and the boy you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with runs away, you have to improvise.” He looks at me, and I state, “I couldn’t afford formula, so the nurses helped me learn how to nurse him, and gave me a hand pump.”

Noah swallows hard, his eyes going back to Diego before he stutters, “He…uh, I mean, you, uh…I mean, the bottles I was giving him were…um, uh….”

I frown at his weird behavior, and confirm, “Were my breastmilk? Yes, why?” His face pales a little, and my frown deepens, and then it clicks.

Laughter bubbles in my throat, and he glares at me. “Don’t even think about it, Rose, it’s not fucking funny.”

Laughter spills out, and I can’t even bring myself to scold him for swearing because, oh God, he drank my breastmilk….

He shakes his head and mutters, “Fuck…I thought it tasted a little weird.”

I bite my bottom lip to stop my laughter, knowing Diego is trying to nurse, but my body still lightly shakes, and Noah groans, knowing he’s never going to live this down.

Diego detaches, and carefully, I lift him from under my top, and hand him over to Noah, who takes him instantly and mutters, “Little traitor, you could have told me….”

I laugh again, louder this time, as I clip my bra back together, and Noah looks at me, smirking and shaking his head.

“To answer your question from earlier, I wasn’t mad at you, Rose, because I understood, but now I am. You could have warned a guy,” he says as Diego lets out a burp.

I laugh again, leaning over a little because, yeah, that has got to be one of the best revenges, especially when I know how bitter breastmilk tastes.

After I calm down, I rasp, “If it helps, I drank a quarter of the bottle early one morning, forgetting he was already latched on.” His eyes widen, and I shrug. “I was really tired, not long given birth, and had gone back to work.”

Something flashes in his eyes, something that looks like agony, but I ignore it and look at a happy Diego instead.

I can’t comfort Noah and tell him it’s okay, because it isn’t. He left me on my own.

Not long later, the plane finally touches down and I sigh with relief, happy that Diego was okay for his first ride.

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