Chapter 15
Olivia
I smile, and when I do, he does as well. Smiles are contagious in the right situations, like this one.
He leans down to kiss me, his lips full and taking mine. When he pulls back, he licks his lips, and says, “I’d like that.”
We’re moving so fast that I don’t know if we’ve had time to consider the repercussions. I’m still throwing caution to the wind.
With him, it’s easy to forget the world outside.
In here, it feels safer in his arms.
My body feels weak, and my legs wobbly. “I’m so tired.”
“I got you.” His arms come around me, and the strength of our connection keeps me from slipping as we finish our shower. He asks, “Why were you crying?”
I had hoped to escape that line of questioning, but I should have known better. Noah would never leave someone in such disrepair. “It’s been a long day, and I had a lot of emotions to deal with.”
As we dry off, he keeps his eyes on me as if he knows I won’t say anything to upset him. “You can talk to me.” His tone remains as steady as his eyes. “Is it Cassandra?”
“I am worried about her. I hope she’ll be okay.”
“Is she not?”
“She is.” After wrapping the towel around me, I tuck in the tail and then apply my moisturizer.
Leaning against the counter next to me, Noah watches in a way that’s not intrusive, but he might be taking mental notes.
I continue with my routine because that look in his eyes makes me feel like a million bucks.
“I stayed until she came out of surgery. They told me she did well.”
“That’s good.” Moving behind me, he massages my shoulders, causing me to sag under the incredible feel of his hands.
“Talk to me. What else is on your mind? Maybe you’re hungry.
” He places a quick kiss on my neck and then another.
“I can make a solid omelet depending on what’s in the fridge. Or I can order you something?”
Our eyes meet in the reflection of the mirror.
Leaning back, I have no doubt he’ll catch me.
Big arms swallow my frame as I’m sure he’s struck with the vision of us together as a couple like I am.
I fit so well with him as if I was built to fill the spaces of his frame.
“That’s not necessary. Thank you, though. ”
When he nods, a slight yawn tries to steal the show, but he fights it, reminding me of how Maxwell does the same. Turning around, I run my hands over his chest and upward until I wrap them around his neck. “I’m glad you’re staying.”
My body feels small in his hands as they run from my waist to my hips, repeating the path several times. “I’m glad you asked.”
Cupping my face, he moves in to kiss me, this time deepening it. When we part, I stay lost in the beauty of our bond for a few seconds before I open my eyes again. “Hey you,” he whispers. “Let’s get you to bed.”
I’m scooped into his arms and carried into the bedroom.
“I need to check on Maxwell first.” He detours out the door and sets me at the foot of the nursery.
Seeming just as interested in peeking in, he stands behind me when I open the door.
The gentle breeze of light that shines in is enough for me to see Maxwell sound asleep in his crib.
Noah’s shadow engulfs mine, and for a moment, my mind can see him in that chair again, holding Maxwell like he is his own. He is already, and I just know in my soul that their bond runs deep.
I listen, needing to hear his breathing to feel comfortable enough to close the door. “He’s good.”
Taking Noah’s hand, I bring it to my mouth and kiss it. Holding it there, I soak in the way he blended so easily into my night, my home, my life.
I’d like to think about what happens tomorrow, but that didn’t go so well for me last time. Is it better to set my expectations aside and enjoy our time together?
The top of my head, my hair still wet from towel-drying it, is stroked, and then he leans over to kiss me there. We linger in the hall, both of us a little unsure about the next step, but maybe . . . maybe not each other this time around.
He pulls me into his arms, holding me where we started tonight.
Noah whispers, “He was never upset. Max laughed a lot and then zonked out on my shoulder. I think he called me here to meet and hang out.” A light chuckle appears to be caught in a memory.
“It’s like the trust was already there between us the second I opened the door. ”
“Noah?”
He tilts to see my eyes. Can he see how they’re filling with tears? That telling me he and my son shared more than a few laughs and sleep, that they share blood and a resemblance, and even a name?
My body feels wrecked from the emotional overload, but I can’t hold on to this secret any longer. Not just for Maxwell but also for Noah’s sake. He needs to know Maxwell trusts Noah because he feels safe with him.
Rubbing his hand along my neck, he adds, “Let’s get you to bed.”
I’m too tired to carry this burden any longer. It’s too complex to navigate my thoughts through the pros and cons of the situation. But really, it’s just Noah being here, being himself, that has my heart bursting with joy to tell him. “I need to tell you something.”
He holds my wrist and leads me back into the bedroom. “You can tell me anything,” he replies as if it will be nothing more than small talk about the weather.
Pulling back the covers, he steps away just enough for me to crawl into bed first. He’s quick to lie beside me and offer an open-arm invitation to snuggle against him.
I do. I settle right in, thinking about how it would be nice to talk about the weather with someone, to make small talk over coffee, and to—What am I doing?
His being a father to Maxwell doesn’t come as a package deal with me attached.
I’m not opposed to the idea, but I’m not the priority.
I still can’t bring myself to regret what we did in the shower or how I’m lying with my arm draped over his chest like I do this every night.
I savor this night, closing my eyes and letting the feel of his beating heart soothe me.
But my head is determined to ruin everything good in my life, to blow it up with guilt riddling through my heart until I tell him everything. How? How can I ruin what we’re sharing? Using his words, it’s so beautiful that it hurts.
My thoughts are suddenly in overdrive, my heart racing.
I know why, but I’m not sure how to break this news to him or when.
Is there ever a good time to have your life turned upside down?
Once he’s told, I can’t take it back. Although I’ve realized he needs to know sooner rather than later, what if he’s not prepared?
I swallow hard, knowing I’m being a fool. No one prepares for something like this. I wasn’t, then went it alone for months before I told my mom. She became a shoulder to cry on, the only person I knew would help me through without judgment.
It sure wasn’t my dad.
I think a part of him still believes this is Chip’s baby.
I think he wants to because otherwise he’s facing a societal shift inside his belief system.
Not only did his daughter have a one-night stand but she’s having a stranger’s baby.
By choice. How would he explain that to his country club buddies out on the golf course or, worse, the office?
He took it as a personal affront to what he was trying to accomplish.
So much resentment has built up inside me that I refuse to give him any more of my strength. I pray Noah will take the news better than my dad did. I think he will, and that alone comforts me to know I’m doing the right thing.
Despite the nerves on how to tell him, my mind is made up. My soul is settled on the subject. Noah’s a good man and should know the truth.
His breathing is even but shallow, making me think he hasn’t fallen asleep yet. “Are you awake?” I whisper, drawing figure eights on his chest.
“I’m awake.” He sounds on the verge of sleep, but I grin in the dark, realizing he doesn’t want me to know. He wants to be here for me. Warmth and a dreamworld of emotions swell in my chest.
I’m still unsure how to say this, so I tilt my head up, thinking I might find the right path when I look into his eyes. “Noah?”
A light chuckle rocks his body when he looks at me. “Yes, Liv?”
Like a Band-Aid, I need to rip it quick. “You know, you were the last one I was with.” I leave the confession in the air and wait for a response with bated breath.
“I hope so. It was only twenty minutes ago.”
“Even tired, you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”
“I’m certain nothing was funny about that bad joke.
I’m blaming it on the hour.” But then he says, “That was two years ago.” Disbelief tinges his words.
There’s a pause, and I can tell he’s inching closer to the truth by how his brow furrows, and the grin is gone.
He glances at me, tightening his arm around me. “That’s a long time.”
God, he feels sorry for me. I could almost laugh, but I’m worried I’ll end up in tears from the tension beginning to permeate the air.
“Yes. It’s been a while.” I sit up, planting my hand on the bed to rest my weight.
Making sure he’s okay, I swallow my fear and go for it.
“I want you to know . . . I need you to know—”
“What do you want me to know?” A lazy grin swims into place just as he tucks a few strands of my hair behind my ear. “You’re so goddamn beautiful, babe.”
Babe has me melting inside. Looking down at his chest makes it easier to accept his compliment. His eyes always give him away, and right now, they’re determined to make me believe there’s a possibility of so much more between us if we allow it to bloom.
It’s addicting, feeding not only my ego but also my heart the one thing that keeps it beating. Love.
My cheeks flush, so I press a hand to my cheek to cool it down. It doesn’t work. He’s determined to kill me with a case of the swoons, but I have my own goals, and blurt, “Maxwell is fourteen months old.”
A slight squint of his eyes releases, and he rubs my back. “Are you alright?”
“Fine. I just need you to hear what I’m saying.”
“I hear you. No sex since the last time we were together, and Maxwell is fourteen months old. Got it. You seem stressed. Is there anything else on your mind?”
His fingers brush against my leg, and it’s not lost on me that he’s making all the right gestures to make me feel secure with him. I do. I feel safe with him.
“Yes.” I lead him toward the truth, hoping he realizes I’m not losing touch with reality. I just need him to help me out here. I take a breath, and say, “Maxwell’s middle name is Noah. Maxwell Noah.”
I expect him to react, but he doesn’t, so that causes my mind to go into overdrive again. “What do you think?” I ask, a small shake to my voice.
“Think . . .” The thought trails off when his eyes leave mine, staring into the darkest part of the room before pivoting his gaze toward Maxwell’s door.
“You haven’t been with anyone else.” I barely hear him, but I hate that I’ve assigned alarm to his tone.
Nothing indicates he is, but my heart throbs in my ears, and I might be hearing things.
“Maxwell is . . . fourteen . . . nine months . . . fuck.”
He swings his legs to the floor and gets out of bed. I can’t tell if he’s mad or trying to calm himself down, but I’m worried. “Noah?”
He stills, his back facing me, but there’s no response. His head drops forward, and he drags his fingers through his hair. The only sound in the room is his deep breathing, especially because I don’t feel like I can breathe at all.
I scramble to my knees, unsure how to help or even what to do, but I think I should get dressed. I go to him first, needing to know he’s not mad. Reasoning through my brain that it’s normal for him to need a minute or an hour or more to process this kind of major life news.
Feeling helpless, though, I touch his shoulder.
My hand is left in the air when he drops out of my reach.
Turning toward me, he says, “You told me not to hate you. You said that before telling me you’re a mother.
” Maybe I preferred his back because when he angles toward me and I see the anger in his eyes, I shrink inside myself.
“You told me not to hate Maxwell. It didn’t make sense to me then, but now . . .”
He pinches the bridge of his nose and rubs his eyes. A hard swallow follows the minutest of headshakes. “What have you done, Liv?” His voice is calm, eerily so. I’ve lost the ability to speak, though. My throat is choked entirely under the intensity of his glare.
I look away, needing the reprieve. I didn’t think telling him would be easy, but I never predicted anger being a part of it. The air stills, or maybe it’s my heart breaking into pieces. Just as a tear slips down my face, I reply, “I can explain.”
“I need you to explain.” His chest rises and falls with quick breaths. The anger has burned out when I look up at him again. All I see now is confusion. “I need you to tell me the truth, Olivia.”
Olivia.
The name alone from his mouth is a stab to my heart. My shoulders fall as my hopes crash along with it. The happy image of him and Maxwell, even the three of us potentially becoming something more than what we are now that I’d created in my head vanishes from the slip of his tongue.
I can’t fight this battle once I realize I’m the enemy. I raise the white flag and surrender, lowering my armor and shield that protected us to lay bare at his feet everything that matters most to me. “Maxwell’s your son.”