20. Nova #2
I was about to say something back when a young couple passed by behind him, pushing a stroller.
The baby was fussing, red-faced and wiggling, and the mom looked exhausted, hair up in a messy bun, a diaper bag slipping off her shoulder.
The dad adjusted the blanket, murmuring something to soothe the baby as they turned toward the parking lot.
The laughter dried up in my throat.
I cleared it, suddenly unsure of where to look. “What happens when I have this baby?” The words slipped out before I could stop them.
He furrowed his brow. “What?”
“Come on. What single guy wants to raise a baby with a single mom? There’s zero possibility in the realm of possibilities and scenarios in which you’d actually want to stick around.”
He reared back. “That’s unfair, Nova.”
“It’s perfectly fair,” I shot back, my hands trembling as I stood.
“You said it yourself when we met—you didn’t want complicated.
And look at me.” I gestured to my stomach, to the very thing that made everything feel insurmountable.
“I am the definition of complicated. Messy. Chaotic. A fucking train wreck waiting to happen.”
His brows furrowed deeper, his lips parting as if to argue, but I didn’t let him.
“You’re this stable, steady, infuriatingly decent guy, Ollie. You’re kind. You’re good. And me? I’m a single, depressed woman, pregnant with my addict ex-husband’s baby. There is no way—none—that you’ll want to stick around when reality really hits you.”
His chair scraped loudly against the stone ground as he stood, and he towered over me but not in a way that was intimidating.
“That’s the biggest load of shite I’ve ever heard. You think I’m here because I feel sorry for you? Because I don’t have anything better to do?”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
“Nova,” he continued, stepping closer. “I knew you were complicated the second you ran out of the conference room and started vomiting in the loo. I knew it the moment you cried in my arms at the Cotswolds. I’ve seen you at your messiest, love, and I’m still bloody here.”
My throat tightened, and I felt the sting of tears I didn’t want to let fall.
“Complicated scares the shite out of me, but you don’t scare me. The idea of being here for you, for her,” he said, his voice softening as he gently brushed his hand over my belly, “doesn’t scare me either.”
I shook my head, trying to pull away, but he stepped even closer.
“Look at me.” He cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear that betrayed me.
“If you want me to leave, say it. But don’t tell me what I want or how I feel.
Don’t push me away because you think you’re protecting me from something.
You’re not messy, Nova. You’re human. You’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met, and if you think I’m walking away from that, you’re mad. ”
“What if he comes back, Ollie? I need to tell him. What if he comes back and I have to move to the States?”
“Then we’ll move to the States, but right now I need you to stay in the moment with me.”
“You’re not moving to the States with me.”
Please don’t leave me. My first thought. I couldn’t imagine my cold life without the bit of warmth that Ollie provides.
“Ugh.” He ran his hands through his perfectly gelled hair, roughing it up a bit. “You’re doing it again.”
I frowned. “What?”
“Telling me what to do,” he shot back, his tone a mix of exasperation and something softer, something almost pleading.
“I’m not—”
“You are. You’re deciding for me, Nova. Deciding what I can handle, what I want, what I feel. You don’t get to do that.”
I crossed my arms defensively. “I’m being realistic.”
“No. You’re building walls so high you think I’ll give up trying to climb them. But if you build them to the sky, I’ll find a way to get over them.”
His words held weight, a gravity I wasn’t sure I was ready to confront.
“I’m not trying to—”
“Yes, you are.” His gaze locked onto mine. “And that’s fine. I get it. I get that you’re scared. But don’t for one second think you can dictate how I feel or what I want. That’s my choice, Nova. Mine.”
I swallowed hard, unable to respond as his words sank in. He wasn’t wrong, and that terrified me more than I could admit.
Suddenly, some guy with a massive camera came bustling toward us, his lens already pointed in our direction.
“Coach Stone. Can I grab a quick shot of you and your . . . ?” He darted his eyes toward me, clearly fishing for a title.
Before I could say anything, Ollie stepped in front of me, blocking me from view like a damn human wall. “Not today, mate,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.
The guy didn’t get the memo, though. The camera clicked anyway.
“Fuck,” Ollie muttered as the photographer scurried off, clearly pleased with himself. “That hasn’t happened since the Cotswolds.”
When it had happened, I’d looked on the internet, scouring to see if that photo had gone anywhere. It ended up on some blog about “hot rugby coaches” but otherwise went nowhere. It was one small article, thankfully.
I sighed. “This won’t be anything. Not like we’re a big deal.”
Ollie didn’t look convinced. His eyes searched mine, a question forming before he even asked. “You think your ex will see it?”
I hesitated, the weight of the situation pressing on me. “I don’t know. I have no idea where he even is.”
Concern flickered across his face. “You okay?”
I nodded, but the truth was gnawing at me. I couldn’t keep dodging it. “I’ll call him this week,” I said quietly, looking down at the cobblestone street. “I don’t want to ruin the date any further.”
“You’re not ruining anything.”
He reached out, brushing his fingers against mine.
“Let’s enjoy the rest of the day.” I forced a small smile.
“If another camera shows up, I’m tackling someone.”
I laughed, the sound easing some of the pressure in my chest.