Page 115 of Vicious Arrangement
“He’s not worth you living with his death,” I say. “The man’s a piece of shit and not worthy of you. He’s the monster, not you. Not you, Noah.”
He takes me down to the bed with him, sitting on the filthy surface in his fine suit, with me on his lap, and I can see Asher tying up the unconscious man. “I called the authorities and an ambulance.”
“For him?” I say.
“For you, idiot,” Noah whispers.
I look at him and touch his face, where it’s starting to bruise. “I’m okay?—”
“Then you won’t mind being told that by the experts.”
“I’m an expert,” I mutter.
“The uninjured experts, princess.” He tilts my face to his. “I lost my mind. Angus lost his mind. He… he’s a pretty amazing dog.”
“I know. And he’s okay? You’re okay?”
“Yeah, we’re okay. Fuck, Aria…” He kisses me in a slow, sweet kiss that feels a lot like love. It turns me into liquid inside, and I could float forever on kisses like that. When it ends, he brushesmy hair carefully from my face and traces the bruise, a dark, violent expression in his eyes as he takes it in, but there’s only warmth and tenderness when he meets my gaze.
“I love you,” he whispers.
My heart leaps. “I love you, too.”
But in the back of my mind I can’t help but wonder if he really means it or if it’s just this moment talking.
Because it all seems too good to be true.
After endless testsand being poked, prodded and CT scanned, I’m taken to my private room.
Noah holds my hand as the doctor gives her verdict.
“While everything looks okay and there isn’t a skull fracture or signs of swelling or concussion, she still took a nasty hit to the head. So considering her pregnancy and the trauma Aria’s been through, we’ll keep her in for a few days to monitor her and the baby.”
“I’m right here,” I say, “and a nurse.”
The doctor gives me a condescending smile, and I want to punch her, so I must be okay.
“But I do have one more test. An ultrasound so you can see your baby and hear the heartbeat.”
With those words, I forgive her, and the trepidation in Noah roots him to the spot as they start to wheel me out. I tug on his hand. “It’s okay, I think you’ll like this.”
The technician talks him through it all, showing him why the baby looks like a blob and that the rapidness of the heart is perfectly normal and healthy.
I just admire the fetus we made in all its little alien-like glory.
Noah’s eyes are suspiciously damp, and he clutches the photo printout like it’s some kind of holy grail.
“Did you hear that?” he whispers to me when we get back to our room. “It was beautiful.”
“And just like that, an excited father-to-be is born,” I say. “See what you have to look forward to? One day that little weirdo will be a beautiful child.”
He looks at me like I’m the Wicked Witch. “Weird?” He shows me the blob. “Our baby’s gorgeous.”
Crap, this just makes me love him more, and my eyes tear up, too.
Noah refuses to leave, and he sleeps next to me, curled around me. Katie’s at our place with Angus.
As soon as visiting hours begin, Gramps arrives with a plant. It’s a polka dot cast iron plant, and it’s gorgeous. I smile, touching one of the leaves. It’ll look good inside the apartment. Give it some color.
