She wraps her legs around me, pulling me deeper, her hands clutching my shoulders, and in a lustful breath, she says, “I love you too. I think I’ve loved you since you danced with me at Greyson’s wedding. That you would protect me and save me from that asshole. From that moment, I have loved your heart. But now I love everything about you. Your tattoos, your little white box—your body speaks for itself.”
She nibbles on my bottom lip, and we smile into a kiss.
Every thrust is laced with emotion—the fear of not being around for her, the joy of having her, the promise of a future we're building despite everything. I caress her stomach as we move, my hand splayed protectively over it, and she covers it with her own, our fingers intertwining. The intensity peaks, her body clenching around me, drawing me over the edge with her. We come together. It hits like high tide—sudden, unstoppable, and impossible to outrun.
And I’m done running.
I hold her close, our bodies slick and spent, my hand still on her stomach. Her head rests on my chest, listening to my heartbeat—the one that beats for her now. In this quiet, with the world outside forgotten, I know we've found something real, something worth every risk.
THIRTY
NOELLE
The dialysis center smells like disinfectant and burnt coffee.
I couldn’t go on Monday due to work obligations, but today, I’m here to see for myself what my man is going through.
My man. Crazy.
Matt calls it a pit stop, like we’re just pulling off the highway for snacks before heading back into real life, but watching his blood disappear into a machine and come back cleaner feels anything but casual. I sit beside him in a plastic chair that squeaks when I move, my fingers laced through his.
“Don’t make that face,” he murmurs, his eyes half-lidded but alert. “I’m still very charming.”
“I’m not worried about your charm,” I say. “I’m worried about the fact that you’re attached to a robot.”
He smirks. “You’re just jealous. This one gives me all its attention.”
“I’m serious. What if they’re secretly cloning you?”
“Conspiracy theorist, huh?”
“Of the worst kind. In college, I would watch documentaries and then couldn’t sleep, thinking about how the government may have conspired to kill Kennedy. Here. In Texas.”
He throws his head back against the fake leather, laughing. “Did they have any actual evidence? Or was it just people’s opinions?”
“Opinions mostly, but they were convincing. After my doctor’s appointment, let’s go to my house and watch it.”
I snort despite myself, leaning in so my shoulder brushes his. He squeezes my hand, grounding me.
I tell myself this is normal.
This is manageable.
But my heart keeps whispering,This is real and it isn’t normal.
Matt is the picture of health on the outside—a strong body, a six-pack of abs, and his endurance. Well, let’s just say he cango! On the inside, his kidney is failing and wreaking havoc on other parts of his body, like his eyes.
His nurse is about my age, shy but professional. She unhooks him and says to me, “I’m glad he has someone to lean on. Dialysis is hard on the mind. Too much time sitting still.”
“Thanks. Will you be his nurse all the time?”
“Most of the time. We’re on the same schedule. See you next time.”
Matt interrupts. “She won’t be here often. My girlfriend is a sideline reporter and travels for her career.” His eyes brighten and his smile widens. “Now let’s get going before we’re late for your doctor’s appointment.”
His nurse doesn’t pry, and we drive straight to the obstetrician, the same one that delivered Witley. The doctor asksif Matt is the father, and he looks at me. I’m almost certain he wants to say yes, but then he shakes his head no. The nurse draws blood, returning a few minutes later and pointing out something on the screen.
“Noelle, you are eight weeks pregnant. The good news is the nausea usually goes away at twelve to fourteen weeks. Usually.” She goes through a list of things that I should research: how I want to have the baby—by midwife, at the hospital, with or without pain meds, and more. “Are you ready to hear the heartbeat?”
