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)
“No,” she comments, shaking her head. “I swear, all I wanted to do was talk to you, Noah. I just wanted you to help me get in touch with Dale. That was it. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
The room goes quiet. Both Noah and I are unsure of what to say. I don’t know what Noah is thinking right now, but I mostly just feel sad for Ashley. Her life has been flipped on its head with her pregnancy, and she’s currently facing it all on her own.
And the father of her child just ran out of the room…after his wife.
“I just hope, one day, you’ll both be able to forgive me,” Ashley says, her voice quiet. “I don’t expect that right now, but…one day.”
“Ashley, I—” Noah starts to say something, but she cuts him off with a raise of her hand.
“No, Noah. You really don’t need to say anything,” she says. “Honestly, I think it’s more than time for me to go. I don’t want to be in the middle of you two any more than I already have. And I’m just happy you’re both okay.”
Before I know it, she’s stepping forward and wrapping me up in a hug. “I’m so sorry, Sammy,” she whispers into my ear. A moment later, she does the same to Noah.
And then, she’s gone, leaving Noah and me alone in the room.
He’s still lying in the bed, and I’m at the foot of it. Suddenly, all I can think about is feeling the heat of Noah’s body with my own. I climb into the bed without delay, tucking myself into the crook of his arm with supreme care.
“Sammy,” he whispers my name, and I lock my gaze with his.
The past few days have been a fucking whirlwind. But even despite the moments when I thought that Noah was about to be the father to another woman’s child, I never stopped loving him. I never stopped worrying about him. I never stopped wanting him.
He’s my person. My guy. The only man I want to be with. Frankly, I don’t think I’ve ever been more certain of someone in my whole life than I am of him.
Than I am of us, together.
And truthfully, if we can manage to come out on top of this insane situation that included a pregnant ex-girlfriend and an accident and comas, then it sure as hell seems like we can handle anything.
“Noah?”
“Yeah?”
“Remember that time you told me you were looking to be a little more whelmed in your life?”
He laughs a big belly chuckle that shakes my body along with his own and then groans audibly with a hand to his abdomen. “Shit, Sammy. Don’t make me laugh.”
“I’m sorry,” I apologize through a smile.
He adjusts the blankets over both of us and pulls me tighter to his chest, kissing the top of my forehead as he does.
“I love you, Sammy.”
“I love you too.” I look up and meet his eyes, and without hesitation, I tenderly press my lips to his. “By the way, thanks for saving me from that cab,” I whisper against his lips. “I know it might be kind of soon for this, but it was pretty sexy how you just threw your body in front of mine like that.”
Soft chuckles vibrate his chest. “Well, I’m glad I could manage to be sexy while I was absolutely terrified I was going to lose you.” His eyes turn serious as they search mine. “But mostly, I’m just so fucking happy that you’re okay.”
“I’m happy you’re okay too,” I tell him and mean every fucking word of it. “And from here on out, I think we should try to have a little less excitement in our lives.”
“Grandma Sammy and Grandpa Noah?” he asks, his lips curving up into a big smile.
“Exactly. Till death do us part. But this time, only the old-age, natural-causes kind.”
Friday, June 3rd
Sammy
I slide away my barely eaten tray of today’s glorious breakfast—courtesy of St. Luke’s café—and Noah looks over at me with humor dancing in his eyes.
“Not hungry?” he asks, reaching out to squeeze my thigh while simultaneously tossing a piece of cantaloupe into his mouth.
Today is the first day that both Noah and I have been up and moving freely in our hospital room. And ever since yesterday’s lunch, we’ve made a habit of eating together on one of our beds with both of our bedside tables perched in front of us like we’re two little old people munching on TV dinners in a nursing home.
It’s pretty fucking adorable, but yeah, I’m ready to get the h-e-l-l out of here.
“Oh, I’m hungry,” I comment on a snort. “But I’m ready for real food.”
“Hold up. Are you dissing St. Luke’s Café?”
“Yes,” I answer without guilt or shame. “I am most definitely dissing your prestigious hospital cafeteria. And don’t even try to tell me the usual chef is on vacation.”