Noah’s car came to a stop in front of his house. This was it. My hands felt clammy as I stared at the home I’d missed more than anything.
I reached for the door handle, but before I could stand, Noah was at my door. He scooped me up into his arms again, and I couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth. My heart danced in my chest, and a giggle escaped my lips. I was flustered, yes, but more than that, I felt loved, cherished.
Resting my head against Noah’s chest, I listened to the steady beat of his heart. The sound was comforting, a rhythmic reminder that I wasn’t alone. As we moved toward the front door, I made a silent promise to myself.
I would let go of the anger that had haunted me since the day I told Noah about my pregnancy. If I could have Noah, and Chris, and our baby together, nothing else mattered. The past was just that—the past.