Chapter 8
Noah
I sit at the kitchen counter, the low light of the room casting a faint reflection against the dark wood.
“So you’re saying you think your wife is being chased by her ex,” Abraham’s voice crackles over the speaker.
“Yeah,” I murmur, running a finger around the rim of my glass. “He says he is certain his wife is being chased by her ex...” Ronny chimes in.
“Are you pissed?” Winston asks.
“Pissed, yeah. But at the same time, I feel dread. Because there’s a part of me that thinks I deserve it.”
“Well, that part of you is very right,” Charles chimes in, his tone level. “You do deserve it. But at the same time, I am sure you know you have every right to mark territory.”
“Yes, he does,” Abraham agrees. “But he also has to listen to her body language.”
“You need to pull a move, man,” Clint says, his background audio cutting through with the sound of a rustling paper. “Because exes are trouble.”
“I know,” I say, taking a sip of the brandy. The liquor burns low in my throat. “I am going to pick up my kids tomorrow, and I will ask her out for a dinner. If possible, I'll use the children to get her to say yes.”
“Maybe you could try to steal a kiss,” Ronny suggests, his voice dropping an octave. “If you set the mood right.”
A chorus of low murmurs echoes through the line.
“Yes, try to steal a kiss,” Clint seconds.
I look down at the group name blinking on my phone screen, and a sudden laugh breaks through the quiet of my kitchen.
“Guys,” Brandon says. “I think our guy is losing it.”
“No, I am not losing it,” I say, shaking my head at the empty room. “I am just wondering why the name of this group is called the Groveling Husbands.”
“Oh, that,” Charles laughs. “You’ll have to ask Abraham. If you investigate properly, he is, after all, the admin of the group.”
“Goodnight, guys,” I tell them, the weight of the upcoming morning settling into my shoulders. “I need some time to regroup.”
“Hmm, okay. Take your time,” Clint says. “Write her a letter telling her how beautiful you think she is. Make this one spicier. I remember one of the things that made my wife and me get closer was the one time I dared to tell her to please read it out loud for me.”
“Oh, not this story again,” Winston groans. “I’m off.” His profile picture disappears from the call grid.
The remaining guys laugh through the speaker.
“Go on, Clint, wow the newbie,” Ronny encourages.
“So, I remember I had woken up after a dream, right?” Clint continues.
“I thought I was going to lose her. So I wrote down a letter, tied it to one of her jewelry boxes she forgot, and I went straight to her best friend’s house where she was staying.
I told her she forgot something. She just looked at me. ”
“Can you hurry this up, Clinton?” Brandon cuts in. “You’re killing me with your Shakespearean pace.”
“Well, drop off, you elephant,” Clint fires back.
“Is he fat?” I ask out of the blue.
“Fat? Really, Noah?” Brandon lets out a dramatic sigh. “You know what, I’m following Winston’s lead.” The line clicks as he disconnects.
“So, uh, I gave it to her,” Clint finishes, his tone turning serious.
“And I pleaded with her to read it. It was in full detail what I wanted to do to her, too. The air was charged, Noah. I felt like I had gotten young again when I pulled her by the waist and kissed her neck. That, boys, was how we made our fourth child.”
“An interesting detail that we were not supposed to know,” Ronny remarks dryly. “But take one thing out of this, Noah. You have to turn on the charm too. It makes her think about you. It makes her yearn for you. It makes your journey of groveling end quickly. But then... it could still end badly.”
“Goodnight,” the group murmurs.
“Goodnight,” I say, tapping the red button to kill the call.
I sit in the darkness, the glass of brandy cool against my palm. “Kiss her,” I repeat under my breath, a small smile pulling at my mouth.
As the night fades into dawn, my mind drifts back to the day of my father's funeral. I remember Lily weeping beside me, her hand holding mine so tightly it left marks. It wasn't just her physical beauty that stayed with me; it was the sheer, fierce capacity of her love.
“Oh, Lily,” I whisper.
I pull a fresh sheet of paper toward me and uncap the pen.
***
“Yay, Daddy!”
Nora hits my shins like a little cannonball, her arms wrapping around my knees. I look over her small head to see my father-in-law standing near the porch door, peeking over the rim of his reading glasses.
“You decided it was time to set foot into this house with your wife around, I see,” George says, his voice a low rumble.
“Yes, sir,” I say.
He steps forward, dropping his glasses onto the side table, and pulls me into a tight, solid hug. “It’s always good to see you, son.”
“Dad?”
I look toward the staircase. Ava is coming down the steps, and right behind her is Lily. My breath hitches in my throat. She is wearing a dark silk nightgown... the exact one I remember so well from our first night together in our home.
Ava looks between the two of us, clearing her throat with a loud, theatrical sigh. “Dad, I know you think this is romantic, but it’s actually disgusting.”
I rub the back of my neck, the warmth rising to my ears. “Give me a minute, guys.”
I step past them, heading out to the car to retrieve the flowers I left in the passenger seat. Taking a deep, grounding breath of the crisp morning air, I walk back into the house, only to come face-to-face with my mother-in-law in the hallway.
“I thought it was a lie when my husband told me you were here,” she says, a knowing smile tilting her lips as she reaches up to press a quick kiss to my cheek.
“Hey, Ma.”
“Hey, son.” She glances down at the white blooms in my hands, her eyes twinkling. “Your wife is upstairs. Go on.”
I nod, offering a quiet thank you to her and a nod of gratitude to George before taking the stairs two at a time. Her bedroom door is slightly ajar. I raise my knuckles and knock gently against the wood.
I wait, my heart hammering against my ribs, until her voice drifts out. “Come in.”
I push the door open. Lily is seated in front of the vanity mirror, her back to me. Her cream-colored robe has slid slightly off one shoulder, exposing the pale curve of her neck. I stand frozen at the threshold, just looking at her.
“You're perfect, baby,” I whisper, taking a slow step onto the rug. With each movement forward, I watch her reflection, seeking permission through her eyes in the glass. When she finally shifts her chin to look at me directly, I stop.
“What are you doing, Noah?”
“I came to deliver flowers, pretty girl,” I tell her, holding out the bouquet.
A small, incredulous laugh escapes her lips. “Flowers, huh?”
“Yes. Flowers.”
She turns her whole body around on the stool, crossing her arms. “What are you doing, Noah? Really.”
“I'm trying to woo you,” I say, the honesty sounding raw even to my own ears. “But I am completely confused about how to do it right. So I just... I don't know. I'm just here, baby.”
I walk closer, stopping just a foot from her knees. I reach into my pocket for the white envelope, intending to hand it over, but Clint's voice flashes through my mind. I change my plan.
“Please permit me to read this letter to you?” I ask.
Lily looks at the paper, then back up at my face. “Go on,” she says softly.
I unfold the sheet, my fingers tracking the lines of my own handwriting. “Baby,” I read, my voice steadying. “I miss you. I miss looking at your eyes when you stare at me like I am the only beautiful thing in the world. I miss your hands on my shoulder when we watch a movie.”
I look up from the page. Lily is standing now, her posture slightly awkward, a bright patch of red spotting her cheeks. I smile, the warmth in my chest expanding as I look back down to read.
“I miss your hands on my waist when we are close, when it's almost as though we are whispering into each other's lips seconds before we kiss.”
The sound of a sharp intake of breath breaks the quiet of the room. It isn't me. I lift my eyes to find her gaze trained entirely on my mouth, her lips parted slightly.
“I miss the look of ecstasy on your face when I take you to the moon and back,” I murmur, dropping the formal reading tone completely.
“Have I told you how refreshing you look with this haircut? And yes... I remember the time you had this style for the first time was on the night of our anniversary.”
I pause. A single tear spills over her lower lid, tracking down her cheek.
Suddenly, the ink on the page doesn't matter anymore.
I let the sheet of paper slip from my fingers, watching it flutter to the floor as I close the remaining distance between us.
The scent of her skin... that sweet, familiar fragrance...
washes over my senses, completely erasing the rest of the world. I step directly into her space.
“God, baby,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “I’ve missed you. And I am so sorry for not being the man I promised to be. I am sorry for making you cry, Lily.”
My hands find her face, my thumbs sweeping up to catch the tears dampening her skin. I lean down, pressing my lips gently against her cheekbone, kissing the paths of her tears with a slow, desperate reverence.
Before I can pull back, her hands fly up, wrapping tightly around the back of my neck. She pulls me down, capturing my lips with hers in a fierce, sudden strike.
An electric shock runs straight down my spine, and I oblige instantly.
Every part of my body has missed her touch just as much as my head and heart have.
My hands slide down her back, finding the bare flesh of her thigh underneath the hem of the silk gown, and I lift her effortlessly, setting her back against the vanity table.
A jar of cosmetics rattles, tipping over onto the wood, but neither of us notices.
I press my hips firmly against hers, closing every single gap between our bodies until I can feel the full, liquid warmth of her skin. My palms cup the familiar curves of her waist, anchoring her to me.
A low groan escapes my throat.
She pulls back for a fraction of a second to draw breath into her lungs, her chest heaving, before slamming her mouth right back against mine.
“Oh, baby,” I breathe against her skin. “I have missed this.”
Her teeth graze my lower lip, a sharp spark of pain that signals the exact rhythm we used to share. I kiss her heavily again, pouring a year and four months of isolation into the touch, until she suddenly places both palms against my chest and pushes me back.
She stumbles slightly on the stool, reaching up to yank her dark hair away from her flushed face. She looks at me, her chest rising and falling rapidly under the silk.
“Leave.”
I swallow hard, the coppery taste of blood suddenly exploding on my taste buds where her tooth caught my lip. I look at her for a second, nodding slowly. “I'm sorry,” I whisper.
I turn on my heel and walk out of the room.
As I descend the stairs, the sting on my lip throbs, but never in my life have I felt so entirely alive after an injury. The numbness in my chest is completely gone.
“Thank you, boys,” I mutter under my breath to the empty stairwell.
I step into the sitting room to find Liam resting against George’s shoulder on the armchair, while the girls are huddled next to my mother-in-law on the sofa.
George’s eyes snap up to my face. His gaze lingers on my lower lip, and a small smirk touches his face. “I see your intimate session didn’t go entirely well,” he notes, pointing a finger.
I let out a low chuckle, wiping the copper taste away with the back of my hand. “Oh, it went much better than expected, Dad.” I look toward the kids, my chest feeling lighter than it has in sixteen months. “So, are the kids ready?”
***
The SUV is quiet as we hit the main road back toward the city. Ava sits in the passenger seat, her head leaning groggily against the windowpane as she watches the passing trees.
She turns her chin, squinting at my profile. “Why are you smiling to yourself again, Dad?”
“Well,” I say, keeping my eyes on the highway. “Your mom and I kissed.”
She instantly crinkles her nose, letting out a loud groan. “Eew, Dad. I did not need to know that.”
She looks away, staring back out at the traffic for a long, quiet mile. When she speaks again, her voice is softer, the teenage armor dropping completely. “I don't say this often... but I love you, Dad. And I am rooting for you both.”
My throat tightens, a sudden knot of emotion making it impossible to speak. I reach across the console, my palm finding her small hand, and squeeze her fingers tightly. I nod twice, keeping my eyes firmly on the road ahead.
“You just have to make sure to not make her cry again, cause she cried every night when you were away.”
I nod again, my chest tightening at her words.
“But hurry it up,” Ava adds, her voice deadpan as she turns back to the window. “Because Mom is getting prettier and people keep pairing her and that sleazeball together on the internet.”
“Who?”
“Sleazeball John,” she says simply. “Grandpa and Grandma call him that.”
I laugh out loud, the sound booming inside the quiet SUV. The sudden surge of jealousy from earlier fades into something completely manageable, replaced by the warmth of my daughter's loyalty.