Page 18 of Love Unexpected

As the door closes softly, silence settles, and Noah steps further into the room, a frown casting a shadow over his features. Anxiety rises within me. Am I going to forgive this man?

“What are you doing here?” I snap. I want to hold onto my anger towards him, use it to shield my heart. But the moment I lay eyes on him, that shield begins to crack. Seeing him standing here stirs up a complicated whirlwind of emotions—betrayal, longing, hope.

“Marcus texted me to let me know you were here. I came as soon as I could. I just had to make sure you were alright.” His voice is steady, grounding, as he pulls a chair up beside my bed. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the aroma of whisky on his breath is oddly comforting. My heart is torn between wanting to push him away and yearning to pull him closer.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just dehydrated. After a few bags of fluids, I should be able to go home,” I say, lifting up my left arm to show the IV hooked up to my hand. “I've had severe morningsickness. Apparently, stress can make it worse, which may be why I had such a bad episode tonight.”

Noah grabs my right hand and gently squeezes. “Emma, you have no idea how sorry I am. I would give anything to go back and change things.”

I meet his gaze and for a moment all the anger I feel vanishes and is replaced by warmth. I’ve missed him.

“I know an apology isn’t enough," he continues, "but please give me time to make it up to you. Let me start by giving you two months off. I want you to rest and focus on getting better. Don’t worry about your job, it will still be there when you're ready to come back.” He offers me a half-smile.

“What if I never forgive you?” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

“I will spend as long as it takes to earn your forgiveness.” The sincerity on his face makes my shield crack a little more.

"Look, when we slept together I was already freaking out about not having used a condom,” he starts, laying bare his truth. “Then, when I walked in and heard you say you were pregnant, I just panicked. I couldn’t see straight, I couldn’t hear you explain, even if I wanted to. I had a….rough childhood to put it mildly. I had to fight so hard to get where I am today. My whole life, I’ve had people try to take it away from me. When I thought you were trying to do the same, I freaked out. I overreacted beyond belief."

He pauses, looking deep into my eyes, searching for understanding. "It’s no excuse for how I treated you, but I just want you to know where I was coming from. I said some horrible things, and I’d understand if you never forgave me."

I blink back tears for the hundredth time this week. Damn hormones. I feel so much pain and empathy for this man. Seeing how fragile and vulnerable he is softens my heart. This is a side of himself he never shows.

Without thinking, I lean over and press my lips to his, savoring the warmth and familiarity of his mouth. He kisses me back gently before pulling away, and I can see the battle behind his eyes.

“Emma—“ He releases a long, shaky breath. My heart tightens in anticipation.

“I don’t like the sound of that," I admit, pulling back.

“Emma—“ But before he can finish, the door opens suddenly, and nurse Jamie walks in.

“Sir, visiting hours are well over. I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You can come back at seven o’clock," she states firmly, her tone leaving little room for negotiation.

“Just give me one more minute. I promise I'll be on my way soon," he pleads.

“Fine. I'll be back to escort you out,” she relents before turning on her heel and leaving.

Noah’s focus shifts back to me. “Emma. You're going to be an incredible mother. This baby is so lucky to have you. You’re smart, sweet, and have the patience of an angel. But..." his voice trembles. "I could never be a good father. In fact, I don'twantto be a father. I—“ his voice breaks and I know this is hurting him as much as it hurts me.

My heart is shattering in my chest into a thousand tiny pieces. The honesty in his voice cuts deeper than any knife ever could. I’m desperate to stop this from ending.

“Noah," I interrupt, my voice soft and firm. "I’m not asking you to be a father. Let’s just explore this. Us. Let’s see how things go between us. I’m not asking you to move in or change diapers in the middle of the night. I just want us to be together, in this moment.”

“But what’s the point?" he asks, frowning, squeezing my hand. "We would just be delaying the inevitable. This baby is coming, and I don’t want children. The longer we drag this out, the more it’s going to hurt.”

“Please, Noah," I implore, my heart racing. "You could change your mind! I’m not asking you to fully embrace this baby right now. Let's just give us a chance to see where this leads. You may feel differently down the road. We still have time to explore this without any expectations.”

“Emma,” he whispers, the sadness in his voice crushes my heart. “I'm not going to change my mind. I can't change who I am.” He states confidently. “I’ve seen how stressful kids can be. I’ve seen the chaos and how they can put so much strain on a marriage until it falls apart. My father was a monster, and with every kid he had, he just got so much worse. You know, Marcus and I had a younger brother. Our father was so emotionally abusive and had the highest expectations for his sons. Our little brother couldn’t handle it, he took his life at only fourteen years old.”

The sadness radiates off of him in waves, filling the room with heavy grief. I reach out, cupping his cheek, hoping to price some comfort. He holds my hand to his skin, then kisses the inside of my palm, a sweet gesture that deepens the pain in my chest.

“As much as I hate my father, I also see so much of myself in him. My temper stems from him. You saw firsthand how my temper can takeover. I can’t be a father. I refuse to put that burden on you and your son.”

Before I can respond, the nurse comes back in, her expression apologetic. “Sir, you need to leave now. She needs her rest."

Noah stands up slowly, hesitating to leave. He leans down and gives me a goodbye peck on the cheek, lingering for a second longer. “Yes, please rest. I’ll check on you in a few weeks before you come back to work. Take care of yourself.” His gaze is filled with an unspoken longing. He hesitates again at the door, as if wresting with the urge to change his mind. Do it, I urgehim silently. Change your mind, please. Every fiber of my being wishes he would stay.

But instead, he gives me a sad smile and walks out, the door closing behind him with a painful finality.

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