Weston (Broken Falls #6)

Epilogue Two

Annabelle

"Good night, sweet girl," I coo to Ashlynn as her eyes close and she gives into sleep.

Quietly, I leave the nursery and head toward the living room. Glancing up at the clock, I take note of the time. Nolan should be home soon. He's working late tonight. It never ceases to amaze me how hard the man pushes himself.

Headlights come up the drive, and my heart pounds in my chest. I've been noticing him more lately, welcoming the smell of his cologne when it lingers after him. Going to the kitchen, I pull the dinner out of the oven I cooked for us.

He comes through the backdoor, and groans. "That smells fucking good."

"Thanks," I smile over at him. "How was your day?" It's all so polite, and it always has been. Just once I'd like for him to lose control and kiss me.

"Long," he says, running a hand through his hair, making it stick up in that boyish way that makes my heart flutter. "But coming home to this makes it worth it. It's nice not having to cook dinner for myself anymore."

I set the plates down on the table, and he joins me, his usual spot across from mine. There's a moment, right as he sits, where our eyes meet, and something electric crackles between us. My breath catches, and I wonder if he feels it too. We start eating, the clinking of utensils against the plates filling the room, mingling with the low hum of the evening.

We talk about Ashlynn, about our days, the conversations slipping into an easy rhythm, but beneath it there's an undercurrent, a tension that's not fully uncomfortable, but it keeps my pulse elevated. I sneak glances at him, trying to decipher the lines of his face, the curve of his lip when he smiles, the occasional flicker of something in his gaze that makes hope flutter wildly in my chest.

We're finishing up, and I'm gathering the plates when he stands, suddenly closer, too close, and before I can register it, his hand is on my arm, and he's leaning in. His lips brush mine, soft, tentative, and for a brief moment, everything stops. It's a dream, an overload of sensory details I've longed for; the warmth of his skin, the taste of him, the reassurance I've craved for so long.

But just as quickly as it happens, it's over. He pulls back, his eyes widening in a flash of panic that sends ice through my veins.

"I'm sorry," he blurts out, stepping away as if the flame has burned him. The words slice through the fragile moment, leaving it wounded and bleeding between us.

"Nolan..." I start, a plea, a question, but he shakes his head, retreating further, his expression clouding with something like regret.

"I didn't mean,I shouldn't have," He stammers, looking anywhere but at me. "Annabelle, I'm sorry."

He turns, leaving the room, my heart disintegrating with each footstep. I'm left standing there, the remnants of his kiss still tingling on my lips, but it's nothing more than a ghost, a painful reminder of what was almost mine, what I thought , hoped , could be real.

I sink back into my chair, the silence pressing down on me. How do things go back to the way they were when everything, at least for me, has changed so irreversibly?