Chapter 27 Matt
TWENTY-SEVEN
MATT
Witley fits perfectly in my arms.
Greyson places her there carefully, his hands hovering even after he lets go. His eyes sparkle even though he has dark circles under them. Her fingers curl around my thumb, impossibly small but tight.
The first thing that hits me when Greyson places her in my arms is how something so light can carry so much gravity. Meaning. How a baby makes a family. Even if it’s a single mom, like Noelle.
“She’s got a grip,” he says, proud as a peacock.
“She knows what she wants,” Sutton adds from the couch, exhaustion and pride tangling in her voice.
Witley, cute as a bug in the ruffled pink sleeper I bought her, gets passed around next—Mr. O’Ryan, Parker, Paulina—each of them tracing her tiny fingers, murmuring soft nonsense like it’s instinct.
When Noelle holds her, she stills completely, her thumb brushing over Witley’s knuckles with a tenderness that makes my chest ache.
Noelle holds her through dinner like a pro, and afterward, Greyson lays her down in the bassinet.
“She’ll sleep two to three hours,” Greyson says. “Let’s eat and maybe get a ping-pong game in before she proves us wrong. I need to feel like a human.”
Paulina shoots her hand into the air. “I play first—because if Witley wakes up, I want to feed her.”
Sutton laughs. “I’m breastfeeding for a few months, but you’ll get your chance soon.”
Paulina groans. “Tragic.”
Teenagers think not feeding a baby is tragic. Typical.
She points toward the basement. “Uncle J.D., first game.”
“Prepare to lose,” J.D. says, fist-bumping Paulina.
Birdie stretches out beside Sutton on the couch, content to watch instead of competing. The house fills with movement—laughter, plates clinking, footsteps heading downstairs.
Normal for the O’Ryan household.
My chest feels tight as I hope I can make things right with Noelle. So when a text comes from my sister, it offers the distraction I need.
Sis: How did the second time go?
Me: Fine. Can I call you later?
Sis: Sure, but don’t forget. I hate that I’m not with you.
Me: I’m an adult.
Sis: I know, but no one loves you like I do.
Our mom may beg to differ.
At that exact moment, I spot Noelle, hands wrapped around a glass of something she hasn’t touched. She looks scared and full of doubt. She’s rarely like that, especially when she’s with her family.
I don’t think. I just move.
“Hey,” I say softly. “Can we take a walk?”
The room pauses. Greyson looks up. Sutton tracks the shift instantly. Noelle meets my eyes, then nods.
Outside, the night air is cool and quiet, the sounds of the house muffled behind us. We walk down the driveway, gravel crunching under our feet.
“Did you talk to Brooks?” I ask.
She exhales. “Yeah.”
That one word tells me enough. She’s upset. “Why didn’t you call me?” I ask. She raises her brows. I stop and turn to her. “You don’t owe him anything.” I shake my head, heart thudding. “How did it go?”
She exhales slowly. “About as badly as you’d expect.”
That tracks.
“I’m sorry,” I say. It feels inadequate.
She shrugs, but the movement is brittle. “Thank you. But you don’t get off that easy. And… and I needed time to take in what he said, how I feel. It’s his baby.”
She looks up at me with a film of water over her eyes, searching my face like she’s afraid to hope. Something in my chest gives.
“I’m here for you,” I say. “Whatever you need.”
Her shoulders drop, and she steps into me, not answering with words.
Words aren’t enough.
The kiss is soft at first, but the second her hands curl into my jacket, restraint shatters. I kiss her back, deeper now, forgetting where I’m at and who might see. My hand comes up to cradle the back of her head as muscle memory takes over.
For a moment, everything else disappears. The baby she’s having. The medical issues. It’s just us.
From behind us, I hear, “You have got to be kidding me!”
We jerk apart, heat replaced by panic.
Greyson and Sutton stand a few feet away, having just stepped outside. Greyson looks stunned, eyes flicking between us as if he’s trying to make sense of what he’s seeing.
Sutton claps once, grinning. “This is almost as sweet as having a baby.”
Greyson doesn’t laugh.
Instead, he steps closer and grips my arm—right where the skin is still tender, where the port sits beneath the surface. The pressure is light but deliberate.
“I thought this fake dating thing was over,” he says. It sounds more like a question than a statement.
I don’t pull away. “This is between Noelle and me,” I say evenly.
Greyson’s jaw tightens. “The hell it is.” His voice drops. “I thought I could trust you.”
The words land heavy.
Noelle stiffens beside me, but I don’t let go of her hand. She opens her mouth, but instead of saying she gets to decide who she dates, she blurts out, “I’m pregnant.”
Time slows down as I feel Greyson’s fist connect with my jaw. Soon the whole family gathers to witness the commotion. J.D. pulls Greyson away from me. “G, G! Stop! What’s going on?”
“My best friend is fucking our sister. That’s what’s going on,” he says.
A collective gasp comes from the O’Ryan crew. “And she’s pregnant,” he adds. An even louder gasp.
Then silence.
Not even a late-summer cricket chirps.