Chapter 19
Noah
Over the next month, the tension between Emma and I only gets worse. I can’t shake the reality that her due date is only a month away. In fact, it's all I can think about, it consumes my thoughts every hour of every day. I can’t help but feel I’m about to lose her for good. She might not be mine to lose, but once the baby arrives, it will be final.
The excitement radiating off of her is palpable in a gut wrenching way. She glows every time someone asks her how many weeks she has left or if she has a name picked out yet, and every time, it's like a knife to my chest. The baby’s impending arrival looms over me like a dark shadow, an ominous countdown to the end of "us". The closer she gets to motherhood, the more I feel like I’m drowning.
From my desk, I watch her through the glass, helplessly captivated. She’s talking on the phone, her hand resting on her growing belly. A deep, aching sigh escapes my lips. I wish things were different.
After another grueling day at work, I head over to my brother’s place, craving a strong drink and something—anything—to distract me from this storm inside my head. I check his location first, ensuring he's home before making the drive over. It's a habit of ours, my brother and I show up at each other's houses unannounced, regardless of the day or time.
As I walk in, I'm taken aback to see Emma over again. Maybe deep down I was hoping she would be. But it makes me wonder how much time they spend together. The sight of her sends a mixture of emotions swirling through me.
Emma turns toward me, her smile brightening as if she’s happy to see me. I wish she wasn't. “Noah! We were just about to watch another movie. Sit down! I’ve got popcorn.” She stretches the bowl out to me, her eyes sparkling. I hesitate, knowing I shouldn’t be doing this, every moment with her tightens the knot in my chest. This is only going to make it harder for me in about a month. Still, I pour a glass of whiskey for myself and one for Marcus before joining them.
I settle in my spot on the couch between the two of them, handing Marcus his glass before taking a handful of popcorn from the bowl in Emma’s lap. The warmth from her body beside me feels like a temporary balm to my pain.
“Emma, what did the doctor tell you about your salt intake?" Marcus teases, reaching across from me. "Fork over the popcorn bowl.”
“What did the doctor say?” I ask, my heart filled with unexpected concern.
“Oh, nothing important," Emma answers with a shrug. "Just that I need to watch my salt intake. My feet have been swelling up a tiny bit, and my blood pressure was a little high the other day.”
Glancing down at the mention of her feet, my eyes go wide. “Jesus, Emma! Give me that bowl.” I snatch the popcorn from her and pass it over to Noah. Her slender legs make her ankles look more swollen than they are. It has to be uncomfortable.
“They aren’t that bad!” She shouts defensively, but the swell of her ankles peeking from the bottom of her leggings says otherwise.
“Oh, they are. Put your feet up here,” I say as I pat my lap. For once, she does as she's told, and places her dainty feet in my lap. Her toe nails are painted a hot pink and it makes me twitch. I start massaging her feet gently, careful not to apply too much pressure near her ankles.
“Okay, play the movie,” I say casually. But Emma just stares at me, her mouth agape.
“What?” I respond, confused by her reaction.
“You do not have to rub my gross feet. I’m fine!” She insists, attempting to remove herself from my hands.
“Your feet are not gross," I roll my eyes playfully at her, tightening my grip on her. "And I really don’t mind. Now let’s just watch the movie."
As I massage her feet, I'm entranced by the soothing rhythm, barely paying attention to the movie. My thoughts are consumed by Emma and how soft and smooth her skin feels beneath my fingers. I find myself trying to control my reaction, as her left foot rests gently over my crotch. Although I’m tempted to move my hands further up her legs, I hold myself back. Now is not the best time to get a hard-on with my brother sitting just four feet away.
Adding slight pressure to her toes, Emma suddenly jumps upright. “Ouch!”
I sit up straight, panic flooding my system. “What is it? Did I hurt you?”
“No, I’m okay," she replies, her laughter mixed with embarrassment. "The baby just kicked me really hard in the rib, and I wasn’t expecting it.” She chuckles, rubbing the spot below her right breast.
Without a second thought, she grabs my hands and places them on her abdomen, dangerously close to her breasts. “Here, feel it.” I sit still and a few seconds later, I feel a series of kicks one after the other. A wave of emotion washes over me and I can’t move my hands away. The kicks are strong and distinct.
“Wow. I have never felt anything like that before. That’s just… wow.” I stare at her belly in amazement, roaming my hands in order to find another kick.
“It’s pretty great, isn’t it?” Marcus chimes in, proudly. “I love feeling the little dude kick.” My stomach tightens at his words and I fight to swallow down the jealousy. The implication that he touches her like this, makes my anger rise just beneath the surface.
The emotions I felt moments ago vanish as quickly as they appeared. Marcus and Emma begin discussing baby names, their voices a hum in the background as I sit back and sip my whiskey. What am I doing here? Getting cozy with Emma on my brother’s couch, touching her every chance I can? Nothing has changed between us, and yet here I am acting like she’s mine. I need to leave, but I can’t force myself to.
I down the remainder of my whiskey, trying to steady the conflicting feelings inside of me. I should leave, but it feels like there’s an invisible magnet pulling me to her and it's impossible to resist. So I stay, trapped in this web, and listen to them talk about the baby’s nursery. The pain in my chest gets tighter and tighter.