Page 34 of Loving Josy
“Are you keeping the baby?” he asks quietly, his eyes searching mine.
“Of course,” I reply, without hesitation. Noah exhales a deep sigh of relief, his shoulders visibly relaxing.
“Good. I mean, that’s good.” He runs a hand over his face before looking at me again. “Are you feeling sick every day? When do you need to go to the doctor?”
“Like I said, I’ve been feeling this way on and off for the past few days.” I rub my temples, thinking about how drainedI’ve been. “I still need to make an appointment with my OB to confirm, but I’m pretty sure I’m pregnant.”
“Can I be there with you at your appointment?” His question catches me off guard. The sincerity in his voice is undeniable.
“Yes,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’d like that.”
“Okay. Good.” We lock eyes, and I can feel the pull between us getting stronger, like an invisible thread connecting our hearts. It's both thrilling and terrifying, and I wonder if he can feel it too.
“Do you want to have dinner with me? Believe it or not, that’s why I came in the first place.” He shifts slightly, leaning back in his chair, waiting for my response.
“We can talk about our baby and what we’re going to do. What do you think?”
Dinner. The idea sends a flutter through my stomach, not just from the morning sickness but from what this could mean. Sharing a meal feels like a step toward a future that suddenly seems so complicated yet undeniably real. “Dinner sounds nice,” I manage to say, forcing a smile despite the mixed emotions inside me.
“Great! My place, tonight around six?” he suggests, standing up.
I nod. “That sounds good. I’ll see you tonight.”
He comes over and kisses the top of my head before he heads out. As he leaves my office, I lean back in my chair and stare at the ceiling, my mind racing with all the what-ifs. I’m glad he took the news so well; deep down I knew Noah would be supportive. He’s always been a good guy.
But I remind myself not to get too excited. This is just dinner. We are just going to talk about the baby and what’s next. I can’t let myself dream about perfect scenarios.
Taking a deep breath, I try to focus on what’s important: my health and our baby.
I smile at the thought of seeing Noah again. Even if it’s just for dinner. But I’m grateful that I am not going to be doing this alone.
I stare at the pile of clothes on my bed, feeling more frustrated by the second. I’ve tried on everything I own, and nothing feels quite right. Turning back to the mirror, I see myself in a flowy green sundress. It’s probably the best option at this point. Comfortable but still nice.
Even though Noah and I are just friends, I still want to look good. After how I looked earlier today—sick and throwing up in front of him—the least I can do is make an effort tonight. I don’t want him to think I’m a complete mess. The moment he walked into my office earlier, I wanted to hide. Ugh, puking in front of him was so embarrassing and disgusting.
I am hoping tonight goes a lot smoother and without any morning sickness. I've actually felt pretty good for the past few hours. Looking down, I gently pat my belly. "Alright, little one, Mommy needs you to behave tonight. No making me sick at dinner with your dad, okay?" I laugh at myself. Do babies even hear you talk this early? Who knows? I should probably start reading up on pregnancy or watching some videos so I don’t go into this totally clueless.
Grabbing my makeup bag, I head over to my vanity and sit down to put on some light makeup. When I’m done, I leave my curls down and try to tame a few of the wild ones. At least I look a little more put together now. I grab my purse, close the door, and head to my truck. I've never been inside Noah’s house, and the thought makes me a little nervous. Once I’m settled in thedriver’s seat, I connect my phone and pick a playlist to calm my nerves. Just as I put the truck in drive, a message pops up.
Violet: Are you feeling better?
Me: Yes. Thanks for the help today. I think I might have a stomach bug.
I’ll tell her later. First, I need to talk to Noah, and if everything goes okay tonight, I’ll sit down with Violet tomorrow. She’s going to have so many questions, and even though I’m not ready to dive into all of that, I don’t want to keep it from her either.
Violet: Good. Let me know if you need me to bring some soup or more ginger ale.
Me: Thanks. Love you.
Violet: Love you more.
Smiling at her message, I tuck my phone away and focus on the road ahead. A few minutes later, I pass by Violet’s new house and can’t help but smile. Noah and Esteban really outdid themselves building that place. It’s beautiful, and while I miss having Violet and Adrian living close to me, knowing they’re happy makes it easier. She was so happy when she saw it for the first time. Austin surprised her during a date by blindfolding her and bringing her to her new house. She told me that she cried happy tears when she saw the house. After taking a tour, she said they made love in her new room. Then she asked Austin to move in with her. Now, they are happy in their new home, and I couldn’t be happier for her. She’s finally getting what she deserves.
Noah’s place is about ten minutes from Violet’s, so I keep driving, though my nerves are starting to build as I get closer. When I finally pull up, I see his house—a small, charming single-story home. The light gray paint looks fresh, and the white trim gives it a clean, welcoming feel. The porch is simple but well-kept, with a few potted plants neatly arranged by the steps. It’s clear Noah takes pride in his place, and the whole setup feels cozy. Now, if only I could calm the butterflies in my stomach. I park beside his truck and walk toward the door, my heart racing with each step. Just as I’m about to knock, the door swings open, and there he is, standing on the other side. He looks effortlessly handsome, dressed in black joggers and a fitted gray shirt. His hair is damp, like he just stepped out of the shower, and his bare feet make him seem even more relaxed. I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks as my eyes trace over him. Why does he have to look so damn good?
“Come in, sweetheart,” Noah says, stepping aside to let me in. As I walk past him, I catch a whiff of his cologne. It's an earthy, woodsy scent, like fresh cedar mixed with a hint of musk. The smell is warm and grounding, wrapping around me in a way that feels both comforting and irresistibly masculine. It takes everything in me not to lean close to his neck and smell him. That would definitely be awkward and weird. Noah’s house feels so inviting the moment I step inside. The open layout lets me see everything at once—the kitchen with its dark wood cabinets, stainless steel appliances gleaming under the soft lights, and a small four-piece dining set off to the side. The living room is spacious yet cozy with a big TV and a comfy-looking couch that practically begs you to sit and relax. The smell of something delicious cooking fills the air, and my stomach growls. After feeling sick all day, the scent reminds me that I haven’t eaten anything since I puked earlier. Now, I’m suddenly starving.
Chapter Eighteen
