Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Josy
Iwake to a cocoon of warmth, the covers snug around me and an unmistakable weight pressed against my back.
My mind takes a moment to catch up, still hazy from the best night’s sleep I’ve had in ages.
Slowly, I blink my eyes open, letting the soft light filtering through the curtains pull me into consciousness.
It’s peaceful. My body feels relaxed, my thoughts quiet. But then it hits me—the arm draped over my waist, the steady rise and fall of breathing behind me.
Noah.
My heart skips, then thuds heavily. He stayed.
My initial reaction is to melt further into his warmth. His arm, so solid and secure, feels like it belongs there. But the realization sharpens, cutting through the bliss. This wasn’t part of the plan.
I shift slightly, careful not to wake him.
My pulse quickens as I try to piece together how this happened.
Last night flashes in my mind—his touch, his words, the way he made me feel like I was the center of his universe.
I loved every second of it. But waking up in his arms? That’s something else entirely.
Noah stirs behind me, his arm tightening around my waist as if he senses my thoughts.
I close my eyes briefly, trying to savor the feel of him.
It’s intoxicating, the way his body molds to mine, his breath warm against the back of my neck.
For a moment, I let myself believe it’s okay to want this. To want him.
“Merry Christmas,” I whisper softly when I feel him shift again.
There’s a sleepy hum in response, his voice low and gravelly. “Merry Christmas, Josy.” His lips brush against my shoulder, and a shiver runs through me despite the warmth.
He’s so at ease, so comfortable, like this is where he’s meant to be. Meanwhile, my heart is waging a war with itself. This feels so good, so right. But I’m not ready. Am I?
Noah shifts again, propping himself up slightly behind me. His hand slides over my stomach, resting gently on my baby bump. “How’d you sleep?” he asks, his voice still thick with sleep.
“Better than I have in weeks,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. I glance over my shoulder at him. His hair is a mess, his eyes soft and warm as they meet mine. It’s a sight I could easily get used to… and that terrifies me.
I sit up slowly, careful to keep the blanket wrapped around me. “You stayed,” I say, more to myself than to him.
He sits up too, his expression unreadable. “You asked me to.”
That I did. I remember the moment so vividly—the way he carried me to bed, the comfort of his presence, the vulnerability of asking him to stay. But in the light of day, it feels… complicated.
“I didn’t think you… I mean, you didn’t have to.” My words come out awkward and uncertain, and I hate how exposed I feel.
Noah’s eyes search mine. “I wanted to,” he says simply, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And maybe for him, it is. But for me?
I pull the blanket tighter around myself as if it can shield me from the weight of his gaze.
“Noah, I…” I trail off, unsure of what I’m even trying to say.
How do I explain that I loved every second of last night, but I’m still not ready to let him all the way in?
That despite everything he’s done for me, everything he’s been, there’s something holding me back—something I can’t even put into words?
He waits patiently, his hand resting on the bed between us. He’s not pushing, not demanding anything from me. He never has. Yet, his very presence feels like a challenge—a gentle but insistent nudge to let go of whatever’s keeping me from taking that next step.
“I don’t know what’s stopping me,” I finally admit, my voice barely above a whisper.
“You’ve been there for me in ways I never expected, and I…
” I pause, swallowing hard. “I want to let you in, Noah. I really do. But something… something keeps holding me back.” Is it the fact that I haven’t told him the whole truth?
He doesn’t know that I have spent the better part of my life being in love with him.
I know, I am acting very stupid. Why is it that I have the man of my dreams in my bed and I can’t seem to let him in.
I must be going fucking crazy. Yup, that’s it.
I need to talk to Dr. Bennett. I am way overdue for a therapist visit.
His brows knit together, but he doesn’t look hurt or frustrated. If anything, he looks determined.
“Josy,” he says softly, reaching for my hand. His touch is warm, grounding. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you tell me to. But I will always be here for you and pepper.”
His words tug at something deep inside me, but they don’t erase the uncertainty swirling in my chest. I wish I could pinpoint what’s stopping me. Fear? Doubt? Maybe a little of both. All I know is that I’m not ready, and I hate that I can’t give him the answer he deserves.
“I don’t want you to go,” I say quietly, my fingers curling around his. “But I don’t know how to do this.”
“Then we’ll take it one step at a time.” His voice steady and sure. “No pressure, no rush. Just us.”
For a moment, I let myself believe it could be that simple. Just us. No expectations, no fears, no past wounds holding me back. But deep down, I know it’s not that easy. There’s still a wall I haven’t figured out how to tear down, a part of me that’s afraid to let him all the way in.
“Okay,” I whisper, not because I’m convinced, but because I want to believe him.
I want to believe that we can figure this out together, one step at a time.
For now, that has to be enough. I can’t keep doing this to myself—going back and forth, pushing Noah away when all I really want is to pull him closer.
It’s very simple: Noah wants me, and he’s willing to give me time.
On the other hand, I want him so badly, I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything or anyone more than I want Noah.
So maybe… I stop fighting. Maybe I stop overthinking and just try.
Noah leans down and presses a soft kiss to the top of my head, a lingering touch that feels like a promise.
I close my eyes for a second, letting it soak in.
How does he always do that—make me feel safe and adored with something as simple as a kiss?
“Okay. Now let’s get ready and have a great Christmas together,” he says, his voice a low rumble that sends warmth flooding through me.
“Okay,” I reply again, because apparently, that’s the only word I can manage at this point. My brain is a swirling mess of emotions, and I can’t find anything more articulate to say.
When Noah stands, my brain short-circuits completely.
He stretches, hands running through his hair, the muscles of his back flexing and shifting beneath smooth, golden skin. He’s only wearing black boxer briefs, and dear God, they fit him like a second skin. My eyes are riveted, tracing every line and contour as if I’m seeing him for the first time.
The way the fabric clings to his sculpted ass, the deep grooves of his lower back…
it’s criminal. Then he turns slightly, and I nearly choke.
His chest—hard planes of muscle, defined abs that look like they were carved by a damn sculptor—are on full display, catching the soft light that filters through the window.
There’s a faint trail of hair disappearing beneath the waistband of his briefs, and I have to clamp my lips shut to stop from whimpering.
How is this real? How is it possible for one man to look this good, to make me feel so…
wrecked just by existing? I want to touch him.
No—scratch that—I need to touch him. To run my fingers over each one of those perfect squares on his stomach, to trace the veins that wind down his forearms and dip into the cut of his hips.
I can’t believe that I didn’t get to see all of this the one and only time that we have been together.
But I realized that it was fast and sweety and I was not thinking.
That’s what got us into this mess though.
I swallow hard, heat pooling in my cheeks—and, let’s be honest, lower—because my brain is an absolute traitor. This is not helping my “let’s take things slow” strategy. Not even a little bit.
Noah finally notices my staring, his lips curving into a smirk that sends my pulse racing. “See something you like, sweetheart?”
I snap my gaze up to his face, cheeks blazing. “I wasn’t staring. Besides, you have already said that same line before.”
His grin widens. “You were definitely staring and that’s why I’m saying it again. It never gets old when you look at me like that,” Noah says as he points at my face.
“Was not,” I mumble, refusing to look at him as I fidget with the edge of the blanket.
Noah chuckles, low and knowing. “Mmhmm. Whatever you say.” He disappears into the bathroom, leaving me alone in the room—and thank God for that, because I need a minute. Maybe several.
I fall back against the pillows with a groan, covering my face with my hands. What am I doing? This man is dangerous to my sanity, to my carefully constructed walls. But damnit, he’s also the only thing I’ve wanted in a long, long time.
I peek toward the bathroom door, listening to the sound of water running as he turns on the shower, and I exhale shakily.
Okay, Josy. Pull it together. Today is Christmas. You promised yourself you’d try. So that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to get up, get dressed, and spend the day with Noah. Maybe it’ll be messy, maybe it won’t be perfect, but I’ll take one step forward like he said.
And if I get to enjoy the view of him shirtless for a little while longer… well, that’s just a bonus.
After spending an amazing Christmas and New Year’s with Noah, I feel…
lighter. More comfortable. It’s like something shifted between us that night, even if nothing else has happened since then.
We’ve been texting, seeing each other often, and somewhere in between the teasing messages and quiet moments, I’ve started to see a new side of him—a side that makes me feel at ease.
Noah isn’t just the persistent, confident man I thought I knew.
He’s so much more. He’s thoughtful, patient, honest. A dependable, hard-working man who’s there when I need him, whether I ask for it or not.
It’s a softer side, one I didn’t realize existed behind his rough exterior.
And maybe—maybe—it’s the reason I feel myself falling in love with him a little more each day.
For Christmas, Noah gave me a necklace—something I never expected.
I wasn’t looking for presents, especially not from him, but when he handed me that little box and my fingers brushed the velvet edges, I couldn’t hide the way my breath hitched.
Inside was the most delicate infinity symbol, filled with tiny diamonds that caught the light perfectly.
“It has always been you,” Noah had said, his voice steady and sure as he fastened it around my neck. “And I know that what we have and what we’ll build together is going to be forever.”
Forever. That word had echoed in my mind as the cool metal settled against my skin and his warm fingers lingered for a moment before he stepped back.
I didn’t know what to say then—how do you respond to something so raw and real?
So I’d smiled, blinked back the tears that threatened to fall, and whispered, “Thank you.”
I’ve worn the necklace every day since. My fingers find it constantly, tracing the smooth edges, feeling the weight of his words and wondering if he’s right—if we really can build something that lasts. I want to believe him. God, I want that so badly.
And now here we are, together again, but this time in the doctor’s office, waiting to find out if we’ll finally learn the baby’s sex.
Last time we were here, the baby had been stubborn, legs crossed tight as if to say, you’ll find out when I’m ready.
Noah had teased me endlessly after that, saying it must be a girl already taking after me—stubborn and independent.
Today, though, I’m hopeful. I glance at Noah, who’s sitting beside me, flipping through one of the outdated magazines on the table. He looks calm, but I can tell he’s just as anxious as I am. The way his foot taps lightly against the tile gives him away.
“Are you nervous?” I ask, leaning back in the chair as I rub my hand absently over my belly.
He looks up at me, a lopsided smile tugging at his lips. “Nah,” he says, though the teasing glint in his eyes betrays him. “I’m just ready to start picking out names that aren’t gender neutral and to stop calling the baby fruit names. This week is a sweet potato. Did you know that?”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t fight the smile. “We’ll see if sweet potato cooperates today. It’s got your stubborn streak, you know.”
“My stubborn streak? I think you mean our stubbornness” He raises a brow, and I laugh softly.
The door opens before he can respond, and the nurse calls my name. My heart leaps as I stand, Noah quickly rising beside me. His hand settles on my lower back as we follow her into the exam room, a steadying touch that feels as natural as breathing.
“Here we go,” he murmurs as I lie back on the table, his voice soft but steady.
I nod, swallowing hard as the doctor enters the room and the ultrasound begins. The cool gel spreads across my skin, and I squeeze Noah’s hand as the screen flickers to life.
“Let’s see if this little one wants to cooperate today.
You are now twenty-one weeks so we should be able to see today.
If not, it’s okay. I can order a blood test and that will tell us if it’s a boy or a girl,” the doctor says with a kind smile.
The room goes quiet, save for the hum of the machine and the soft sound of our baby’s heartbeat filling the air.
“I don’t want the blood test. I wanna find out whenever the baby is ready.” I say as I look at Doctor Willis and then at Noah. He nods his head, letting me know that he is good with my decision.
I watch the screen, my chest tight with anticipation.
Please, I think. Just this once, let us see.
Noah leans closer, his eyes fixed on the monitor. His thumb brushes over the back of my hand, a silent reassurance as we wait.
Then, finally—
“Well,” the doctor says, tilting the wand slightly. “Looks like your baby decided to show off today.”
I hold my breath, and Noah’s hand grips mine a little tighter.
“It’s a—”