Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Another woman is standing in front of Noah’s apartment, her rounded belly evidence of the words I can’t unhear, and everything that was ten seconds ago is gone in a flash.
And Noah doesn’t question this woman. He doesn’t ask her who she is.
Instead, he says her name.
“Ashley…” He pauses, and his eyes move from me to her, from me to her, until he just stops on me. Silent apology sits behind his irises as his gaze searches mine. His pupils are constricted, his mouth is set into a firm line, and the only thing I can do is avert my attention to the floor.
This is too much.
“I can see that this isn’t a great time.” The woman’s voice shakes like leaves ready to fall from a tree. “And I’m sorry, Noah, I really am, but I need to talk to you.”
My heart pounds and my palms sweat, and when I find the strength to look up from my shoes, my vision tunnels around the myriad of emotions that are drifting across Noah’s handsome face.
Shock, upset, and maybe most potent of all, acknowledgment, war in his beautiful blue eyes as he works to find a way to make this all okay. It’s like he’s searching for a way to make me feel secure without dismissing her, to make all of this somehow disappear like it doesn’t exist.
But Noah is a magical person, evidence of which I’ve received on a daily basis for the last month, and the best trick he has up his sleeve is his ability to not disappear.
He shows up and shows out, and there’s no way he won’t—or shouldn’t—do that with his own child. He is the antithesis of my ex-husband, and he wouldn’t be the man I fell in love with if he weren’t.
He has to explore this. He has to hear her out. He has to give himself a chance to be a real father, and most importantly, this baby deserves a chance at Noah Philips’s brand of unconditional love.
Children need fathers in their lives; I know this to be true more than anyone else, and there is no way in hell I could allow myself to stand in the way of something this critical. No matter how badly it’s going to hurt.
“Noah, I’m going to go. Let the two of you talk.” They’re the first words I can manage, but they’re the only ones that make sense.
“Sammy, no. Stay. Just give me a minute.”
I shake my head. “Noah, baby, I can’t. You have to face this head on, and you’re not going to do that with me here. We’ll talk later, okay?”
“Sammy—”
I press my lips to his tight and swift, and then I turn on my heel to jog right into a waiting elevator as an older gentleman steps off with two grocery bags in his hand. The doors close on Noah’s sad face, and it’s all I can do not to scream as the cart begins its descent.
For the first time in forever, I finally, finally thought something was going my way. I thought the universe was done smiting me. I thought all the catastrophe had been a poetic lead-up to the trajectory my life needed to get on track.
I thought…I was going to get my happily ever after.
Tears don’t just threaten as I pass the fifth floor, the fourth, and then the third. They fall unchecked down my cheeks like little rivers of devastation, and I can hardly catch a breath.
Why does it feel like I ruin everything?
Why does it have to feel like I’m meant to be alone?
Why does it feel like my life is actually ending?
I don’t look at the front desk manager or the doorman as I speed walk through the lobby of Noah’s building, frantic for the solace of the street. I don’t bother with embarrassment; I’m long past that.
I am shattered.
My shoulders ache with invisible weight, my stomach threatening to lurch cheeseburger and milkshake all over the perfect marble floor.
Shoving through the door before the doorman even has it all the way open, I run straight for the edge of the sidewalk. I’m confused about where I am—naturally, since this is the first time I’ve been to Noah’s apartment and I spent my time on the way here kissing instead of paying attention—and I can’t even make sense of what direction I need to run to go home.
Agitated, I search for a taxi until I find one coming down the other side of the street.
My chest is tight, and the simple task of exchanging carbon dioxide for oxygen feels like I’m trying to compete in an Olympic-level event.
Impatient to flee this scene so I can breathe again, I step off the curb to cross, and a man shouts something from behind me. I don’t even pause. If I don’t get out of here right now—if I don’t catch my breath soon—I’ll die.