Chapter 25
Emma
“Emma,” Noah breathes out. “Whats wrong? Why are you crying?” his voice is laced with worry as his eyes roam over my face, focusing on the fresh tears.
I can't speak. I rush towards him, his arms open up for me, and I bury my face in his chest. He holds me patiently while I softly cry, letting me have all the time I need to calm down. Walking me slowly back into the house, he shuts the door behind us, and takes me to the kitchen.
"You came back," I choke.
"Of course I came back. I told you I want to be with you. You thought I’d just give up that easily?" He pulls back, holding me at arms length. "Emma, baby,” he says sternly, "tell me what happened after I left.” He steers us to the kitchen table and forces me to sit down.
I stare into his eyes, trying to gather the courage to tell him. His eyes grow darker the longer I wait. “Marcus kissed me,” I finally manage to say.
Noah's body goes rigid at my confession. “He did what?” His voice hardens, a mix of disbelief and anger. I brace myself for the fallout.
“When he dropped me off a little bit ago... he said he wanted to be the one to take care of me and the baby. And then... he kissed me.”
Noah lets out a harsh breath and buries his face in his hands, elbows resting on the table. “Did you want him to?”
“Of course not—"
“Did you kiss him back?” He interjects, lifting his head to meet my gaze.
I shake my head frantically. “No! I slapped him and told him to leave.” Something in Noah's eyes tells me he doesn't quite believe me.
Noah stands up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. He begins to pace, his hands on his hips. “You told me there was nothing between you two. I believed you.” His voice is laced with so much hurt.
“There’s nothing going on between us! Tears stream down my face for what feels like the tenth time today. “He heard what you said in the hospital. He was just hurt and angry, and he kissed me in order to hurt you back!” I rise from my chair and take a tentative step towards him.
“I’m going to kill him,” Noah declares, his voice low and dangerous.
“Please, don’t say that,” I beg. “I can’t handle you going to jail on top of everything else going on!” I take another step closer and reach out to touch his arm. “It’s late, and you’re probably exhausted from traveling. Stay the night?” I bat my eyes and pray he will give in to me as he usually does. “We can talk about this in the morning.”