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CHARLOTTE

I fold another burp cloth and place it in the dresser of the nursery. Nesting is in full swing, and at this rate, the baby’s room should be completed next week. After pulling a pink sheet out of the basket, I hang it over the side of the crib to make the bed later.

A pounding knock comes from the front door, and I rush towards it. Throwing it open, I say, “Stop forgetting your house key! I really do—” The words fall off my tongue as a face I hoped I’d never see again stands on the porch. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Jonathan hurries inside, not waiting for an invitation, and I consider leaving the door open for a quick escape. Peeking outside, I check I’m not being punked or set up for some bullshit paparazzi blitz, and after deeming it’s safe, I shut us inside.

How does he know where I live?

Jonathan turns toward me in the living room, scratching at his jaw. “We should get back together.”

I blink at him. “What?”

“We should get back together,” he repeats, tone void of emotion, reigniting the ember of anger I’d nearly reduced to ashes.

“You want…” My face scrunches, fingers pressed to my temples. “Let me get this straight. You show up at the home I share with my boyfriend, and that’s how you start the conversation?”

“Come on, Charlie.” He releases a heavy breath. “Don’t you think we made a mistake?”

The furious fire erupts. “According to you, the only mistake you made was fucking this cunt without a condom,” I shriek, pointing at myself. “And now you’re, what, asking for me back?”

“I want to be a part of this baby’s life. I…” He shifts in place. “I need to be.”

The fumes fog my mind, and my eyes narrow on him. “Why?”

“Because I do.”

“What about all your big NFL dreams?” I ask mockingly.

“Charlie,” he says with a sigh. “I’m trying to do the right thing here.”

The right thing.

Red flags pop up like devil horns on Jonathan’s stupid little head.

“Did my mother speak to you?” I roar, the flames scorching through me and decimating every shred of resolve in their path. He doesn’t have to answer. I already know. That meddling bitch.

“It doesn’t matter.” He dismisses me with a flick of his wrist. The way he always did to say the conversation’s over.

“Actually, it does.”

His gaze holds mine. Crystal blue eyes that used to calm turbulent seas, now darker than the depths of the Mariana Trench. “We need to, Charlie.”

“How much is she offering you?” The one thing about being mega uber rich is there is an endless supply of bribe money. And my mother loves using it.

“What?” he asks, brows pulled together.

“How much money did she pay you to come here?”

“None at all?”

“Then why would you—” I freeze in place, suddenly understanding. My mom loves bribery, but she’s addicted to blackmail. “What does she have on you?”

“Nothing.” His voice rises two octaves, and he clears his throat. “I just… I want this now.”

He reaches toward me, and I swat him away. “Don’t.”

“Come on,” he says, stepping forward, and I retreat, feet fumbling, and trip over the carpet. I shriek, bracing for the fall. Arms wrap around me, catching me before I hit the floor.

“Are you okay?” Jonathan asks, pulling me to stand, and I take a few deep breaths, placing my hand over the baby. Falling and hurting her is one of my biggest fears.

“I think so,” I whisper, heart racing.

Jonathan rubs my stomach. “Come on, babe. Let’s do this together.”

His use of a pet name pulls me back to reality, and I wiggle out of his hold. “Just stop.”

“Char—”

I fold my arms firmly over my chest. “The truth, or you leave.”

He blows out a frustrated breath. “Fine. Your mom came to see me.”

“Well, that makes a hell of a lot more sense than the Tin Man getting a heart.”

His eyes connect with mine, full of hurt, but he doesn’t deserve my sympathy. “Can’t we at least pretend?”

I burst into laughter. “Fuck, no.”

Panic sets in his eyes, and he bends over, taking deep breaths. The reaction I would have expected when I told him I was pregnant, not when he told me we should pretend to be together because…?

“Jonathan,” I press, grinding my molars. “What does she have on you?”

“Nothing. It?—”

“The truth ,” I repeat, pointing toward the door. “Or you leave.”

He groans, dragging a hand down his face. “She has a picture of me doing coke at a party earlier this year.”

My mouth falls open. “Why would you? How could you?” I shake my head, trying to bring myself back to the present situation. He’s not my boyfriend. His drug usage is not my problem. But this is. “How does she even have that photo?”

“She was having me followed when we were dating,” he says with a hardened jaw. “Said she wanted to make sure she knew the kind of person her daughter was with.”

“So she saw cokehead party boy and thought, Yeah, he’s the one for Charlie ?” I mock.

“Actually, she told me to break up with you or she’d send it to my coach,” Jonathan says, his tone lacking humor. “That it wouldn’t be a good look if her daughter was dating a cokehead party boy.”

My jaw drops to the center of the earth. I blink, unable to conjure up a single word. The last months of our relationship flash in my mind, trying to provide me with any signs I missed.

“That’s why I had Eric run into you at Ken’s Karaoke,” he says, another slap to the face. My head spins, the blaze continuing to roar on my charred body.

“You…” My veins thrum. “You wanted me to catch you?”

Everything suddenly makes sense.

Why Jonathan’s roommate insisted I go see him. Why Kendra didn’t seem surprised by my arrival. Why he spewed every hurtful thing he could think of as I left. Why he didn’t chase after me.

He nods.

“You wanted me to break up with you,” I say, huffing a laugh, “because you were too much of a pussy to do it yourself.”

“Charlie…”

“So you slept with me the day before as a farewell fuck?” I shriek. “I’m pregnant because you, what, wanted to fuck me over? Literally?”

“No, I just?—”

“Save it.” I shake my head and release a sigh. I’m so angry, but I’m also… glad? It’s one more confirmation this is not the man I want in my life. Not the man I want raising my children. He could’ve just been a civilized human and dumped me. What a piece of shit.

“Is this why you don’t want to be a part of her life?” I pause, placing a hand on my stomach, still needing clarification. Closure. “Because my mother blackmailed you?”

“When you showed up, I knew she must not have told you or you’d have used it to get me involved.”

“I’m not my mother,” I snap, the insinuation unwelcome.

“I know.” He grits his teeth. “Just… We had already gone our separate ways. I’ve moved on, and it seems you have too,” he says, glancing around. “I know I should say I want to be involved, but I—” He curses at himself under his breath before returning his gaze to mine. “I don’t want to be a part of this. And I know that makes me selfish. But it’s the truth.”

“I believe you,” I say, and somehow his admission lifts a weight off my shoulders. Because I don’t want him to be a part of this either.

“But thanks to your mom, we don’t really have a choice.” He bites his cheek. ‘We have to get back together.”

A disgusted laugh leaves me. “There’s always a choice.”

“If you won’t do it for me,” Jonathan says, “you should at least do it for Noah.”

“Noah?” I ask, guard flying up. “How could us faking a relationship possibly protect him?”

“Do you really think I’m the only one she has shit on?” he asks, and my heart sputters.

“You’re lying.”

“That’s fine,” he says, throwing up his hands. “Don’t believe me.”

“I don’t.” My tone is firm, but there’s one thing the world doesn’t know about Noah. And I’m sure my mother has the whole goddamn file.

“What does she have on him?” I ask, curious if Jonathan has any inside knowledge.

“No clue,” he says, and I narrow my eyes at him. “I swear.” Something about his tone makes me believe him.

“Well, either way, my answer is still no. We’re not getting back together. My mom’s bluffing.”

“You may be willing to take that risk, but I’m not.”

“Well, it’s not your choice! In the wise words of Taylor Swift, we are never getting back together. Like, ever.”

“Please, Char?—”

The front door flies open, and our heads swivel toward it.

Noah glances between the two of us, a furious expression on his face.

“Get the fuck out of our house,” Noah says, his tone dripping with a venom I’ve never heard before. His face is red, chest heaving as his glare burns laser beams into Jonathan.

“It’s not what you think,” I say, wanting to laugh at how often that phrase seems to come up in my life.

“He’s here trying to get you back?” Noah says, walking towards me. “Don’t fall for it. It’s all your mom’s idea.”

“She knows,” Jonathan says at the same time I say, “I know.”

“You know?” Noah says, brows furrowed.

“Yes,” I say with a soft smile. “Don’t worry. I didn’t fall for it.”

Noah glances between us, his forehead creased with worry lines. I take his hand in mine, and our eyes connect. He smiles softly, splaying his fingers protectively on my stomach.

Jonathan clears his throat. “This is cute and everything, but we still have a fucking problem.”

I look to him. “I’ll figure it out with the blackmail. Okay? Give me a few days to think about it. Maybe I can find the pictures and erase them.”

“The blackmail?” Noah says.

“That’s how Mom convinced Jonathan to come talk to me.”

Noah nods. “Couldn’t possibly be because he got you pregnant.”

“Just let me know when you figure it out,” Jonathan says, and he’s out the door.

Noah takes my face in his hands and claims my lips with a searing kiss. Reminding me that while anger can feel like fire, passion also burns white hot. I slide my hands into his hair, and he picks me up, carries me to the kitchen, and sets my ass on the counter. Our hands explore, tongues tangling until we’re both panting and coming up for air.

“What was that for?” I ask when he pulls away, green eyes boring into mine. While Jonathan’s are the turbulence of the sea, Noah’s are a calm, rolling meadow, keeping me grounded.

“Just needed to get lost in you for a few minutes,” he says.

I brush my thumb against his cheek. “I’m sorry seeing Jonathan upset you so much.”

“It wasn’t him.” He places his hands on both sides of me. “Your mom paid me a visit after practice.”

“She what?” I shriek. Could she get any crazier?

“I’m not sure if she was trying to stall me so Jonathan had time here or what. But yeah, she threatened my career.”

My stomach sinks. “And what did you say?”

His face scrunches up. “I told her to get fucked. That I’m never leaving.”

Relief washes through me, dousing the raging inferno engulfing me just moments before.

“I don’t want to be the reason your career tanks.” My chest tightens. “The media would have a field day if they found out about your dad.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t care anymore. It was self-defense. The press can do what they want with it. And if the world finds out I was raised by an abusive prick, so be it.”

“I’ll find whatever she has and get rid of it,” I promise. My mother will not be the reason Noah’s story is shared. If it ever is, that should be his choice.

“You will not go to that house without me, do you understand?” His tone is firm.

“Noah,” I say, tilting my head. “What do you think is going to happen?”

“I don’t trust Georgia.”

“She wouldn’t hurt me.” I don’t think .

“She won’t get the chance to. Because you are not going alone.”

“It’ll be harder to explain if you come,” I say pointedly.

“So you admit there’s a possibility you’ll get caught.” He places a hand on my thigh.

“A very small possibility,” I assure him.

“I don’t like the idea of you being there by yourself,” he says, squeezing tight. “We don’t know what she’s capable of.”

“It’s my home. I’ll be fine.”

“No,” he says sharply. “ This is your home.”

“You know what I mean.”

“And what I mean is, home isn’t a place you’re uncomfortable, or afraid, or have to walk on eggshells.” He taps his forehead to mine. “Home is a place you can be yourself. Be comfortable. Be safe.”

Our eyes lock. “Wherever you are is where my home will be.” I move his hand to my stomach. “Where our home will be.” He smiles softly, and my curiosity gets the better of me. “What did my mom say to you?”

His jaw clenches. “That you and Jonathan were getting married and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.”

“That will never happen,” I promise, and he blows out a sigh of relief.

“She also said she offered you your inheritance back.”

“And I told her to keep the fucking hush money.” Did he think I’d take it?

“Why didn’t you tell me about it?” he asks, a flicker of sadness in his eyes, and I curse myself for putting it there.

“Because I wasn’t considering it.” I take his face between my hands. “I swear.”

He presses his lips together. “The thought of you marrying him makes me crazy.”

He’s not the only one.

I tilt my head. “She only suggested it so it’ll look better to the press. She tried to pass it off as some ploy to trap Jonathan so I know he can’t leave me alone with the baby. As if that’s supposed to make me feel better.”

“Well,” Noah says, fighting a smile, “you can’t marry him if you’re already married to me.”

My pulse stops. “What?”

“Think about it.” His grin breaks free, and he runs a hand up my thigh, restarting my heart like a defibrillator. “Your mother is so focused on the fact you’re unmarried.” His eyes hold mine. “Let’s get married.” The storm of butterflies is once again released from their cage. “Jonathan would leave you alone, your mother couldn’t keep threatening you, and, well, I’d get to call you my wife. ”

My wife.

The last two words have my body trembling with nerves. The idea of being married to this man, of knowing he’ll never leave my side, is the sweetest sound in the world. And I know it would ease his own worry of me running off with the baby. Although he’d never admit it. “I can’t ask this of you.”

“You’re not.” He squeezes my hands. “I am.”

“Why would you give up so much for me?” I’m so undeserving of him.

“ Soffione .” He shakes his head. “Haven’t you realized I’ve given up absolutely nothing by being with you? I’ve only gained.”

“I just feel like I came into your life and blew it all up, and you had no choice in the matter.”

“Have I ever told you about the first time I saw you?”

“You know, you haven't.”

“The first day of camp last summer.” He drags his thumb across my jawline. “You were walking around with Andi. You laughed at something she said, and for the first time in my life, the entire world stopped.”

“Noah…”

“I’m serious.” His forest-green eyes glimmer with sincerity. “I heard that pretty sound matched with an even prettier face, and my first thought was, Fuck, I’m done for .”

“Yeah, right.” I look down at our interlocked fingers.

“Charlotte.” He tilts my chin up, forcing my gaze to his. “I was mesmerized by you and the way you walked and talked and everything about you.”

My heart is in my throat. “You never even spoke to me last summer.”

“I know.” He brushes a lock of hair behind my ear. “Because as I was standing there thinking how pretty our kids would look with your brown eyes… Jonathan showed up, making it clear exactly how off-limits you were.”

“I didn’t even think you noticed me,” I whisper.

“I’ve always noticed you.” His smile is soft. “Everything about you. The way your eyes light up when you’re laughing with the girls. The little crinkle on your forehead when you’re stressed. The shimmy of pride you do when someone compliments your baking. Your obsessive need to ensure everyone around you is taken care of regardless of what it does to you.”

“I had no idea.” I’m overwhelmed. Elated. Soaring through the clouds. “I thought Sophia’s birthday was the first time you ever noticed me.”

I mean, sure, we saw each other around at practices and games, but I didn’t think he knew or cared I existed. He was head quarterback, and I was a newbie cheerleader.

“How could anybody not notice you?” he asks with a look of such sincerity it brings tears to my eyes.

“I really am fucking up your five-year plan.” I laugh hesitantly, internally freaking the hell out at where this conversation is heading.

“I updated it a few weeks ago anyways,” Noah says, retrieving the list from the back of his phone case.

“You did?” I ask, snatching it from him.

“There’s nothing about your career?” I say, full of surprise.

“Because I don’t give a shit about it if this stuff doesn’t happen.” Is he serious?

I scan the list again.

Relationship: Marry Charlotte

“You want that?” My heart pounds frantically. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I don’t want you to feel trapped.”

I laugh. “Trapped? There have been so many decisions taken away from me the past year. Or made for me. But you’re the only one who ever stops to actually ask what I want. The one who makes me feel free.” My heart soars, that same meadow of serenity filling me.

“And what do you want?” he asks, and for once, I’m one hundred percent certain.

“I want to have this baby. With you. To spend my life with the selfless man who chooses me out of love, not obligation.” I pause, eyes dropping to my hands. “But I also don’t want you to think I’m trapping you. Or forcing you into this or?—”

“You should come to my game in Vegas this weekend,” Noah suggests, cutting me off.

“I mean, I’d love to,” I say, confused. “But that’s a bit of a change of subject.”

“There are a lot of chapels in Vegas,” he emphasizes with a wicked grin.

“What?” I ask, eyes darting to his. “You’re not serious.”

Noah reaches behind his neck, removes his chain, and slides the pendants off. My lips part open as he holds his grandma’s gold ring between his fingers.

“Noah, what the hell are you doing?”

He drops to one knee before me, looking into my eyes. “I meant it when I said I’m in this for the long haul. If you want reassurance, or confirmation, I’m not going anywhere. This is it,” he says, holding the small ring between us, and I slap a hand over my chest to contain the happiness threatening to burst out of me. “Any day spent with you not being one million percent sure I’m in this forever is a day too long. And you being my wife would certainly solve that.”

I stare down at the little ring. “Your grandma said you have to save that ring for a girl you?—”

“Love,” he cuts me off.

“Noah…” My hand covers my mouth, hiding a massive smile, tears welling in my eyes.

“Charlotte, I love you. I love everything about you. I love you so much it makes me crazy. Mi fai impazzire. I’ve loved you since I watched you wishing on dandelions, wildflowers in your hair, and every day since. I love you.” He places a hand on my stomach. “And I love this little girl.”

“ Our little girl,” I say, and his gaze locks with mine.

“Char,” Noah says, eyes full of hope. Desperation. But saying it feels right. Because from the moment I saw those two little lines, I created an entire universe where Noah was the father. I never wanted that to change. And he’s proven how much he doesn’t either. In fact, his endless love for a baby that’s not biologically his makes me love him all the more.

“Noah.” I place my hand on his face. “Fuck blood or legality. You are the father to this baby. Because what the hell else am I supposed to call the man who loves and adores both myself and this little one growing in me? Who comes to every appointment? Ensures we’re loved and cared for and want for absolutely nothing? Who spent five hours putting together a crib because you wanted to make sure it was perfectly safe?”

“ Soffione , I don’t want to pressure you. Titles aren’t—they aren’t important. I just want you to know I’m here for you. Both of you.”

“And I want you to know that when she’s born, and you’re wondering what she should call you, the answer is Dad.” I place my hand on his. “Or papà, if you prefer that.”

“Charlotte.” Tears well in his eyes, and it pulls them from mine. Because having a six-foot-three man, the strongest person I know, dripping tears on me in the middle of our kitchen, while his hand rests on our baby—this is the most loved I’ve ever felt. “Please, marry me?”

“Noah.” I release a steady breath, a grin breaking free as tears fall down my cheeks. “I love you too.”

His eyes widen. “You do?”

“I mean, it would kinda be a requirement of me saying yes.” My smile deepens, our hands shaking.

His voice trembles. “Are you?”

Of all the decisions I’ve made in my life, this is by far the easiest. “Yes.”