24. Victoria
Chapter 24
Victoria
N oah and I, trash bags in hand, picked up paper plates and cups, doing our best to put Debbie’s house back together.
She’d long since disappeared with Tess. Probably to rock her to sleep. She seemed to have a fully stocked grandma pad here and reveled in time with her granddaughter.
“You don’t have to stay and clean up,” he said, tying his already full bag.
I scoffed. “It’s the least I can do after the epic party your mom threw.”
He grasped my forearm, and a flush of awareness shot through me. “I mean it. You’ve done so much.”
I turned to face him fully, eyes locked with his, silently willing him to understand that I needed this. I needed to tidy up and take out the trash and wash the platters and vacuum. Because I was processing.
My brain was in overdrive and swamped with affection for my fake boyfriend and love for his daughter. Then there were the creeping feelings of loss and sadness that loomed in the periphery of all the positive emotions. The voice in my head was loud today, reminding me of my inability to get pregnant. Of the birthday parties I’d never get to plan.
With a deep inhale, I pulled my shoulders back resolutely. “Noah, I need this right now.”
Nodding, he backed away. Without a word, we worked for several more minutes. By the furrow of his brow, it seemed like he needed some quiet time too.
After breaking down the folding tables and chairs, stowing them in the garage, cleaning the guest bathroom, and dealing with the leftovers, Noah retrieved a sleeping Tess from the nursery upstairs and we headed home.
His energy was off. He’d been so happy all afternoon, but some unnamed concern was eating at him.
I was feeling similarly, I guessed, though I had no trouble labeling the weight pulling me down.
Inside our apartment building, I headed straight for my door. “Good night.”
With a low murmur, he shuffled to the stairs leading to his place.
I stood there in the hall watching him go, thinking he might ask me to come up. When he disappeared without another word, I let myself in. With the door shut behind me, I sank to the floor and dropped my head back. I wanted to be upstairs, eating microwave popcorn and watching Schitt’s Creek while Noah paced and did pushups. I wanted to rock Tess and watch her sleepy eyes slowly close.
But I didn’t belong up there. I belonged here, in my home. Alone.
Slipping into comfy jammies and applying a Korean face mask did nothing to tame the restlessness inside me. I thought about calling Alice, but it was late, and she’d taken her kids to Massachusetts to visit her sisters.
So I paced. With every pass I made, I stopped in front of the window and looked out at downtown Lovewell. I rearranged the books on my shelves by color and fluffed the throw pillows. I was about to give up and go to bed when Tess’s cry interrupted the quiet night.
My heart lurched.
I could hear Noah’s footsteps and his muffled attempt to soothe her. Rather than settle like she always did in his arms, she screamed even louder.
Before I could think better of it, I had my slippers on and my phone in my hand and was halfway up the stairs.
When he opened the door, holding a crying Tess, his eyes were red, as if he’d been crying too, and his shoulders were slumped.
My chest pinched tightly. “You okay?”
Nodding, he pulled the door open all the way. He walked with Tess, gently rubbing her back, but she wasn’t having it. His movements weren’t as fluid as normal, and he looked as though he was far away.
Stepping into the living room, I waited for him to turn to pace back in my direction. “Noah, what’s going on?”
“Nothing.” His voice was low and shaky, his head down and his focus fixed on Tess.
“Bullshit.” I put my hands on my hips, my breaths coming a little too quickly. “If I did something…”
He stopped a couple of feet away and raked his hand through his hair. It was a habit, a gesture he did multiple times a day, but it felt especially telling at this moment.
“No. You were perfect. You are perfect.” He sniffed and wiped at his face with the back of his wrist. “It’s me. On days like this, the grief is overwhelming.”
“Let me put her down.” I stepped in close and held my arms out to take the fussing baby. “Today was a lot. So many people and so much happiness. Give yourself a minute.”
Wordlessly, he let me take her.
Once she and I were in her room, I flipped on the small lamp on the dresser and laid her on the changing table. After a clean diaper and a fresh set of pajamas, I cuddled her and sank into the rocking chair.
While we rocked, I sang “Let it Go”—her favorite Disney song—off key. After several repeats of the chorus, which was about all I knew, her little eyelids became heavy and she drifted off.
I eased her into her crib, holding my breath and hoping she’d stay asleep. Then I switched on the fan and the white noise machine.
For a moment, all I could do was watch her sleep. One year old. I’d known this sweet baby for less than two months, but I was astounded at how much she’d grown and developed. Every single day was an adventure. I was so grateful to be along for the ride.
Carefully. I tiptoed out and closed the door behind me. In the hall, I breathed deeply again. Since that night she was sick, Tess had been mostly okay with sleeping in her crib. I was grateful that she’d settled in enough here to feel safe, but I missed the nights where Noah and I would take turns pacing. The nights I’d go to bed with the smell of him on my pillow.
In the living room, Noah sat on the couch, his head hanging.
I sat next to him and gathered his hands in mine. “Talk to me,” I pleaded. “Please let me in.”
He turned to me, his teary eyes holding mine. For a moment, he didn’t speak. Rather than pushing, I sat and waited. The best thing I could do for him was be here.
Finally, he cleared his throat.“I would give her anything. I would do anything. I love her so much.” He was so overcome he could barely get the words out.
I squeezed his hands harder. “I know you do.”
“But the one thing she needs, the one thing she deserves, I can’t give her. I can’t bring them back. Jack and Emily. She deserves her parents. They should be the ones planning birthday parties and cutting her strawberries the right way.”
“They chose you,” I said softly, emotion clogging in my throat. “They looked at that perfect baby and knew you’d take care of her. And you are doing an incredible job.”
With a sigh, he sat back.
He stared into the distance for a long time. Then, finally, he shook his head. “It’s my fault,” he whispered. “It should have been me. Tess should have her parents.”
I didn’t know much about how Jack and Emily had died. I assumed Noah would tell me when he was ready. Though I did know there was a fire.
“Fire is unpredictable. You told me that. You fought it and were injured yourself. It is not your fault. It’s no one’s fault. You can’t carry that guilt.”
As he met my eye, a tear crested his lashes.
“It was.”
I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed him hard. He was a large man, but I did my best to shelter him, and I prayed that it would be enough to anchor him as the grief took over.
He cried quietly into my neck, his tears dampening my shirt.
“For so long, I just kept moving. Always running. Always chasing the next rush, never worrying about the consequences. I’d push and push so I didn’t have to think.” He sniffled. “And now? Now I’m stuck with the quiet. With my thoughts. With the guilt that keeps pulling me down. They should be here. They should be celebrating her birthday.”
I stroked his hair and kissed his forehead, murmuring words of truth. I told him he was a good man, a great man, and a wonderful father. That it was okay to feel the way he did.
Day after day, minute after minute, he gave everything he had to his child. It broke my heart to know he was carrying the weight of this crushing guilt and grief. I wanted to take it away, to make it better. To give him joy.
But all I could do was be here to weather the storm alongside him. So as I held him, I cried too. For Tess, whose life began with tragedy, and Noah, who was plagued by a culpability that wasn’t his to bear. And I cried for myself. We were all broken people. We got up every day and worked to fill in the cracks, but no matter how much we toiled, they got deeper.
I’d never cried with a man before. I typically saved my tears for when I was alone, but there was no way I could control the tidal wave of emotions crashing over me.
After a while, he pulled back and snagged the box of tissues off the end table. As I took one from him, I couldn’t help but be grateful I’d taken my makeup off already. Otherwise, I’d look like a rabid raccoon.
He put his arm around me and squeezed. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
His thick swallow was audible. “I’m embarrassed.”
I pushed him away, wiping my runny nose in a very unladylike way. “Why? Because you expressed emotion?”
He shrugged, his lips pressed into a line.
“Please, that is the opposite of embarrassing. You’re expressing your feelings and processing your trauma. You’re working to be better for your child. Fuck, if we put you on a billboard, every woman on planet earth would line up to date you.”
He froze, his gaze darkening. “I don’t need a billboard. I already have a girlfriend.”
Slowly, he used his thumb to wipe an errant tear from my cheek.
Electricity sparked under my skin, and an awareness took over.
Suddenly, I realized how intertwined we were. His arms were still looped around me, and I was almost on his lap. Our faces were only inches apart.
And I felt more alive than I ever had.
I should have defused the situation. Put some distance.
Instead, I leaned into him, letting myself enjoy his warmth and his strength.
“I know it’s fake. I know you’re not interested. You don’t feel…” He swallowed thickly, the column of his throat far too close. There was no avoiding the sexy way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he trailed off.
It wasn’t true. Not entirely.
Though I denied it, though I refused to let myself admit to feeling anything for him, the pull was strong, and it was harder to ignore every day. The desire to see him and hear him and smell him was all-encompassing sometimes.
I craved the warmth and comfort that came with sitting on this very couch with him and Tess.
I’d lain in my bed, smelling the pillow he’d slept on only minutes before, thinking about what his scruff would feel like against my skin. How those strong, calloused hands would hold me.
And his lips. I couldn’t stop staring at them.
“I feel it.” I held my breath, anxious for his response.
His eyes widened in surprise, and his body tensed, but he didn’t let go.
I expected him to respond with a quip, to make light of the situation. To brush it off. If he didn’t, what happened next could change everything.
He didn’t speak. Instead, he cupped my face and kissed me.
Hard. Insistent and hungry.
It wasn’t like any kiss I’d ever experienced. There was no tentative testing of the waters.
No, Noah dove right in.
I threw my arms around his neck, and in one fluid movement, he pulled me into his lap and held me so close our chests were pressed together.
He deepened the kiss, taking all I had to offer.
In the space of two heartbeats, my body went into overdrive. My pulse pounded in my ears and all the way down to my toes. The feel of his lips on mine sent tingles coursing through me.
When he slid his hands down my back, cupping my ass in my sleep shorts and pressing me against his body so I could feel him, hard and needy, my vision went spotty.
This.
This is what I had been missing.
The desperation and the pure want.
Squeezing my ass, he pulled me impossibly closer.
Moaning, I nipped at his lips. God. I needed more friction. More contact. More of him. All of him.
I was more achy, more desperate than I’d ever been before. Than I ever knew was possible.
“Fuck, Vic.” He pulled back, panting and wide-eyed, tangling one hand in my hair. “Did I hurt you? Are you okay? I lost control.”
If this was him out of control, I wanted it all the time.
“No.” I shifted, rubbing my center against his erection again to show him just how unhurt I was. “I like you wild.”
“Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea how wild you make me. But we should stop before things get out of hand.”
I arched my back and dropped kiss after kiss along his jawline, reveling in the feel of him under me, his hands on me. “I want this.”
He tensed beneath me, and when he spoke, his tone was soft, uncertain. “Me?”
“Yes, hotshot. I want you. All of you.”
Between one breath and the next, he was standing, and I was in his arms. As he effortless carried me to his bedroom, he buried his face in my neck.
“Then I’m taking you to bed,” he said, his tone low and husky. “Sadly, it’s a twin, but I’ll make it work.”