15. Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Fifteen
Noah
As I glance at Blossom's text, my heart skips a beat.
Can you come to the bar’s storage room? I need to talk to you.
I stare at my phone, trying to make sense of it.
Why the storage room? What’s going on?
I know I shouldn’t overthink it, but I can’t help myself. What if she’s quitting? What if she’s had enough of the craziness with the hotel, with everything we’ve been dealing with? What if she’s decided that this, us, has become too much?
And then, a darker thought creeps in.
What if she’s gone back to Zack?
My grip tightens on the steering wheel at the thought.
The way he barged into the hotel the other day, his presence still lingers in my mind.
I can’t shake the memory of him looking at her like she was his.
I try to push it aside as I drive, but it’s there, the worry clawing at me. I take a deep breath as I pull into the parking lot of the hotel. It’s just a conversation she wants, right?
I try to steady my hands as I get out of the car. I don’t know what I’m walking into, but I’m going to be there for her, no matter what.
The hotel lobby is bustling as usual, but when I make my way to the back, it’s quieter. The storage room is tucked away behind the bar, a small space filled with shelves of liquor and unused supplies. I step inside, and the dim lighting makes the air feel heavier.
And then I see her.
Blossom’s standing there, her back to me, facing the shelves. She’s red-faced, her eyes swollen from crying. My heart clenches.
“Blossom?” My voice is soft, my the concern immediate.
She spins around, her eyes wide, startled, and she quickly wipes away a tear, but it’s too late to hide it. The raw emotion in her expression is enough to make my stomach drop.
“What’s going on?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. I move toward her, but she steps back, shaking her head.
She doesn’t say anything for a moment, and I feel the panic rising. What is it? Is it Zack? Has he hurt her again?
I close the gap between us, reaching out to gently pull her toward me. “Talk to me, please,” I whisper, worried more than I’ve been in a long time.
Blossom finally allows herself to be pulled into my arms, her body trembling against mine. She’s not crying, but I can feel the strength of her emotions in the way she holds herself. I hold her tight, my protective instincts kicking in.
“What happened?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady, though my mind is spinning. “If it’s Zack, I swear to God I’ll…”
“No, Noah,” she interrupts, shaking her head quickly. “It’s not Zack. It’s not him.”
I step back slightly, just enough to look at her face. “Then what’s going on? What’s wrong?”
Blossom’s eyes dart to the floor for a second, and she takes a shaky breath. “Sit down,” she says softly, gesturing to the small corner in the storage room where a couple of crates and a broken chair are pushed together.
I sit down, my eyes not leaving her as she lowers herself beside me, her movements slow and deliberate. She’s distant, lost in her thoughts, and I feel the uncertainty building in my chest. What is she going to say?
For a moment, neither of us speaks. I let her collect herself, my mind still racing with what could have happened.
Blossom finally looks at me, and there’s a quiet intensity in her eyes. “You know,” she starts, her voice barely a whisper, “this place...my life...it’s not what I thought it would be.”
I want to tell her that we’ll figure it out, that we always will. But something in the air tells me this isn’t just about the hotel or work anymore.
Then, without saying anything else, Blossom gets up and walks over to one of the shelves. She pulls something out from behind a couple of boxes, and my heart races when I see what it is—five pregnancy tests, all laid out in her trembling hands.
She brings them over to me, holding them out with a quiet, nervous expression. “I don’t know what to do,” she says, her voice cracking.
I stare down at the tests in her hands. I look at each one, the instructions on the side and the tiny blue lines, and then, I look at her.
My breath catches in my throat.
Pregnant .
I stare at the first test, the bold blue plus signs glaring back at me. I blink, unsure of what I’m seeing, and then look at the others she pulls out. Each one is the same—clear, unmistakable, undeniable.
Blossom’s face is filled with fear, with uncertainty, and I feel the weight of it pressing down on me. My mind spins. This wasn’t what I thought would happen today. I never imagined walking into the storage room to find her holding pregnancy tests like this.
“I didn’t think you’d want this,” she whispers, looking away, her hands trembling as she pulls the tests from my hands. “I’m sorry, Noah. I didn’t mean for this to be how you found out.”
I try to find the words, but they aren’t coming. Shock. Confusion. And a strange, intense protective feeling that I wasn’t expecting.
I rub the small, smooth stone in my pocket, trying to find clarity, but nothing feels clear. All I know is that she’s scared, and I’m here for her. No matter what.
I pull Blossom into my arms, holding her tightly. She’s trembling, and I can feel the weight of her fear pressing down on both of us.
“Don’t worry,” I say, my voice steady but soft. “I’m not going anywhere,”
She pulls back just slightly, looking up at me with disbelief in her eyes. Her brow furrows, and for a moment, I wonder if she thinks I’m lying. But I’m not. I meant every word. I may not have been expecting this, but I’m here for her. I’m here for the baby.
“You really aren’t mad?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. The vulnerability in her voice cuts through me like a knife.
I smile at her, masking the fear that’s swirling inside of me. "Of course not," I say, trying to reassure her. I’m not angry that she’s pregnant, not at all. But I won’t lie, the thought of being a father scares me more than anything I’ve ever experienced before.
I can’t show her that, though. She needs me to be strong.
I pull her in for a tight hug again, gently kissing the top of her head. "This will be our secret," I say, my words soft and filled with promise.
She nods, her head resting against my chest.
I step back, giving her a little smile before I turn to leave the room. But before I walk out, I give her one last look. “Are you okay to work?”
She gives me a small nod, and I know she’s strong enough to handle this.
She’ll be okay.
The weight of the moment sits heavily on my chest as I step outside the bar, the chaos of the busy city streets immediately swallowing me whole.
People rush past me on their phones, heads down, eyes glazed over, all in a hurry to get somewhere. I feel like a stranger here, like I’m walking through a world where I no longer belong.
The noise, the crowd, it’s all too much. I push through the hustle of New York’s busy day, the claustrophobia tightening around me like a noose. People move around me, but I can’t focus on anything but my thoughts, swirling around the pregnancy, the future, and what all of it means.
Can I really be a father?
I didn’t expect to be thinking about this so soon, but now it’s all I can think about. How will I raise a child? How will I be as a father? With Blossom, I can see having a family, but I’m terrified that I’ll mess up.
What if I’m not ready? What if I fail?
And worst of all, I can’t stop thinking about Whittney. What would she think? What would she say about all of this?
The thought cuts deeper than I expected it to, and I feel a pang of guilt.
I’m torn between the life I’ve already lost with her, the family we were supposed to build together, and the life that could be waiting with Blossom.
I don’t know if I’m ready for either. But I can’t keep running.
I continue walking, each step feeling heavier than the last. My mind drifts back to Whittney.
I remember everything—the hope we had, the dreams we shared for a future together. But then, her cancer came. That damn, unstoppable disease that stole her from me. It still feels like yesterday that I held her hand in her final days, telling her we’d grow old together.
I can’t escape the guilt. I can’t escape the grief. I lost that family. The family I wanted, the one we were building together. And now...now I’m faced with the idea of having a child with Blossom.
I want to be happy. I want to feel excited about this, but all I feel is the weight of everything I lost with Whittney. I feel the fear of failing as a father.
My hand reaches into my pocket, and I grab the smooth stone I keep there—my worry stone. I rub it between my fingers, the coolness of it grounding me, calming my restless thoughts.
I need something to focus on, something to hold onto. I squeeze the rock. I’ve always done this when I’ve felt the fear creeping in, when I’ve needed to calm the storm inside me.
But now, it doesn’t feel like enough.
I stop at the end of the street, my feet coming to a sudden halt as I look around. The crowd moves past me, oblivious, lost in their own worlds. I’m standing still, the chaos of the world rushing around me, but in this moment, I feel completely separate from it all.
And then it hits me. The most important aspect of my life now.
Blossom has my child growing inside of her. My child.
The thought overwhelms me. It’s the only thing that matters now. The noise, the confusion, the fear, it all fades away.
I focus only on what’s important.
I stand there, breathing deeply, my heart pounding in my chest as I think about what this means. I’m going to be a father. I will be there for my child. I won’t run from this. I won’t be like my own father, who abandoned me. I won’t let my kid down.
This is my responsibility. I’ll face it, head-on, no matter what.
“I won’t run from my duty as a father,” I say out loud, the words feeling like a promise to myself and my child. “I’ll face it bravely.”
For the first time, I feel a true sense of clarity.
It’s not going to be easy, but I’m ready.
Ready to do whatever it takes to give this child the life they deserve.