Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Nellie
Noah pulled up at seven on the dot to pick me up. I watched as he walked up the steps to my apartment, carrying a bouquet of flowers. I forced myself to wait until he knocked to open the door for him.
“Good evening. You look ravishing,” Noah said, a smile gracing his kissable lips as he seemed to drink me in.
“You clean up well yourself,” I replied, taking him in, too.
He was dressed up in a tailored blazer, a dress shirt, and a pair of navy chinos. He’d taken the time to style his hair similarly to how he’d styled it the night of the New Year’s party.
I’d never seen him look so suave before, and every version of Noah was appealing. The Witcher version, the drunken-still-asleep one, the casual winterwear one, the work clothes, the some-what-dressed up for New Year’s Eve one. Noah could pull off every look, it seemed.
At least I’d dressed up for the occasion, whatever it was. The long burgundy lantern sleeve sheath knit dress accentuated my curves and hid the slight belly I’d started to develop. I’d paired it with my knee-high boots and a black, fold-over collar dress jacket.
I’d curled my hair loosely to fall in voluminous waves down my back. My makeup wasn’t overly dramatic, but I’d played up my eyes and coated my lips in a sheer gloss.
Noah’s easy smile made my heart skip a beat in its chest, and so did the beautiful flowers he’d brought me: snowdrops and white roses, nestled in lush greenery to offset them.
“These are for you, my gorgeous date,” Noah said, holding out the flowers to me.
“Thank you,” I took them from him, swallowing back the emotion rising in my throat as I carried them into the kitchen, setting them down on the counter, thankful that they’d come in their own clear vase.
I didn’t have a vase. I’d never had a date bring me flowers before, so I’d never needed one.
Not that I’d really dated before. Casually hooked up, yes—but the expectations for flowers and fine dining weren’t exactly a prerequisite for casual hookups. This was something different for me, and I felt like I was on completely unstable ground.
But this wasn’t a real date, or at least it wasn’t supposed to be. So why did it feel like it was?
“I booked us a reservation at seven thirty at The Harvest Table,” Noah was saying from the doorway, his voice getting more and more muddled, as if I was sinking underwater.
I was fiddling with the flowers in their vase, my back to him, desperately trying to collect myself before I turned to face him or respond. But my emotions and my panic were getting the best of me. My breaths were choppy, like I couldn’t pull in air calmly, and my eyes were watering.
I couldn’t sit through a dinner with him looking at me the way he did and not have the truth explode from me.
It’d been hard enough to get through the week without blurting it out. The heaviness was suffocating me. I felt lightheaded and dizzy. I swayed, gripping the counter to catch myself. Noah was suddenly at my side.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asked, his voice full of concern and his hand steady and warm on my side.
“I can’t do this,” I whispered, my voice croaking. I hadn’t realized I was crying until Noah cupped my face and tentatively brushed away the tears on my cheek with his thumb.
“Is the idea of going on a date with me that repulsive?” Noah’s voice was teasing, but I could tell he was concerned and trying to make light of things.
“No, it’s not you, it’s…” I stopped myself, taking a deep breath. Rip it off like a Band-Aid, I thought, closing my eyes again. “I can’t go on this date, at least not until I tell you something.”
“Okay…” Noah said carefully, letting his hands fall away.
I couldn’t tell him with him so close. I stepped away from him.
“I’m pregnant.” The words came out on a whoosh.
Noah stared at me for several beats, like he was processing what I’d said. “You’re pregnant?” he repeated, sounding uncertain and confused.
“Yes. I am,” I said, feeling relief that I was no longer holding this secret in. “I’m going to be fifteen weeks as of tomorrow.”
“Fifteen weeks?” Noah asked, and I could tell he was mentally counting backwards. “Isn’t that, wouldn’t that mean you—”
“Yeah, I conceived around Halloween,” I clarified.
“So I’m—”
“I don’t know for sure,” I interrupted. “There was also one other…possibility.”
At that, Noah’s eyes darkened. “Who’s the other possibility?” he asked, his voice low, like the idea I’d been with another man made him envious.
“Nobody,” I answered. “I mean, I don’t know his last name and I’m not in contact with him.”
Noah nodded, his jaw working as if he was trying to chew this information.
“You must think I’m terrible.” I covered my face with my hands, feeling ashamed.
He gently pulled my hands away from my face, peering at me with a perplexed look on his face. “Why would I think that?”
“Because I don’t even know for certain who my unborn baby’s father is.” My lips trembled, and I tried to blink away more tears. I didn’t usually feel shame for my sexual liberation, but I felt shame for not knowing who the father of my unborn baby was.
Noah crouched a little, making sure we were perfectly level so he could look intently into my eyes.
“I don’t think that, not at all,” he assured me. His voice was even, steady. “I’m the last person that would judge you for that, okay? We’ll figure it out.”
“I’m not expecting anything from you, I just…I can’t go on this date without you knowing. And if you want to cancel, I understand completely. It was stupid to set this up without talking to you first, and I—”
“Oh, we’re going on the date,” he said decisively, his gaze resolute. “Unless you don’t want to?”
“No, that’s not it. I’m a mess right now,” my shoulders dropped, and so did my gaze. I stared at his fancy dress shoes, feeling emotionally depleted.
Noah gripped my chin gently, tipping my face up to look at him. His expression was soft. “You’re not a mess, Nell. And even if you are, you’re the most beautiful mess I’ve ever seen.”
I couldn’t help but snort. “That’s some line, Noah.”
“Thanks, I thought of it myself,” he said, his smile blinding. I couldn’t help but give him a tentative smile back. “I’d still like to take you out on this date if you’re up for it. Seems like we’ve got a lot to discuss, and I bet you’re hungry.”
“Why, because I’m pregnant?”
“No, because it’s dinner time and we’re supposed to go out, so I doubt you’ve eaten,” Noah responded. He paused for a moment, thinking. “And maybe also because you’re pregnant.”
I laughed despite myself, relieved that he was taking it so easily. Aside from his initial irritation that he wasn’t the only potential father, I mean.
“You’re sure you still want to go out with me?”
“Even more now. Get your coat, let’s go,” Noah instructed.
I grabbed my dress jacket off the coat rack.