“She’s especially vulnerable right now, too, Noah,” Emma reminded me. “Postpartum hormones are no joke. Or so I’ve heard.”
I drained my lemonade and stood up. “I have to go. I need to get back to her. I don’t want her to have any more time to build up a case in her head about why I don’t really love her.”
Emma took my glass. “Well, get out of here, dork. Go get your woman.”
I ran down the steps toward my car as fast as my bum knee allowed. “Thank you!” I bellowed back toward the porch as I climbed behind the driver’s seat. “You two are the best!”
“Next time, bring Alison and the baby!” Emma called. “Bye, Noah. We love you!”
I grinned as I left them in a cloud of dust.
I was going home.
Chapter 19
Alison
A human being can accomplish almost any task while sobbing her eyes out. I’d known this from experience in my past life, but after Noah left that afternoon, I went about proving it all over again.
I cried as I wiped the table and counters. I wept as I took out a frozen macaroni and cheese to eat for dinner. I sobbed as I climbed the steps and listened at the baby’s door—she was still asleep in the crib. I sniffled as I switched a load of newborn clothes from the washer to the dryer.
He was gone, and I was alone. Again.
Naturally.
The hell of it was that even as he’d pleaded his case to me, even as he’d told me that he loved me, I’d known he was telling the truth. I believed him. But I couldn’t trust what he thought he felt, not when people changed their minds about being in love all the damn time. People claimed to love a friend or a child or a lover, and then they changed their minds. It happened. I knew it first-hand. I’d experienced it over and over again before I was ten years old. It was a truth I’d internalized a long time ago.
Evangeline woke up in a sunny, peaceful disposition, a far cry from her distress over the past few days. I managed to stop crying so that I didn’t upset her as I lifted her from the crib. I cooed to her softly as I changed her and then took her downstairs to nurse her in the rocking chair in the living room.
She was breastfeeding with eyes at half-mast, and I was on the verge of dozing myself when I heard the front door open and close. I tensed as adrenaline shot through me, and I wondered who was there.
But then I heard the familiar sound of keys being hung on the hook and Noah’s whistle. He walked past the doorway of the living room into the kitchen where I heard the fridge open and close and the water run.
A few minutes later, he came to stand next to me. “So . . . mac and cheese for dinner tonight? Should I make a salad to go with it?”
“What?” I kept my voice down so that I didn’t startle the baby. “Noah, what are you doing here? I told you to go.”
“Mmmhmm, so you did. But I’m not going. I’m staying here.”
Inside me, the part of my heart that knew Noah would never run away from me began to sing, only to be shushed by the voices that warned thateverybody leaves eventually.
“What do you mean? You don’t belong here. You don’t live here. This is my house.”
“Beg to differ, sweetheart. I do belong here because you do, and I belong wherever you are. I do live here because you do. And while my name might not be on the title—and I’m fine with that, by the way—this is my home because wherever you are is where I’m at home. You and Evangeline are my home, Alison. And that’ll never change.”
I blinked. “But I told you . . .”
“Doesn’t matter, darlin’. You can tell me again and again, tell me tonight and tomorrow, but it’s not going to change how I feel, and more, what I do.” He came closer to me, leaning down to grip the armrests of the rocker, bringing his face close to mine. “Alison, my heart, you don’t have to love me. Or at least you don’t have to say you do. That doesn’t change the fact that I love you. I know it’s going to take a long time for you to believe that I’m not leaving you—ever. That’s okay. If I have to keep proving it to you for the rest of my life, I will. Maybe by the time we’re eighty, you might start to trust that what I’m showing you is true. But even if you’re not sure by then, when we’re old and gray, I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for as long as it takes.”
I felt another round of sobs creeping up on me, but suddenly, I didn’t feel like hiding them again. I lifted wet eyes and a tear-stained face to Noah.
“You left our bed.”
“Oh, baby.” He dropped his head so that it dangled between his arms and then lifted it up again to look me in the eye. “I’m a stupid man, sweetheart. I thought I was doing the right thing—I was worried that me being in the bed might keep the baby up or disturb your rest. But I should have asked you. I should have told you why I was doing it.” He stroked my cheek with the back of his fingers. “I’ll come back to your—to our bed if you’re okay with it. I’ve been missing you every single night. That four poster’s great and all, but I’d rather be with you.”
I bit my lip. “If you won’t sleep well there . . .”
“Hey.” He nudged my chin up with his finger. “I’ll always sleep better if I can hold you. I don’t want to be in any bed but yours. If you’ll have me.”
