Don't Let Go(31)

He literally sprinted into the store, and I absorbed the sound of the rain pelting everything around me. I rubbed my belly and took breaths like I’d seen the women do on television. I never took Lamaze, my mom said it was a bunch of bunk, but now I could see where it might at least be distracting.
Hot tears fell down my cheeks as I worked my fingers over the wet fabric and felt feet or hands or elbows or something small pushing my stomach into contorted shapes as whoever was inside rolled over.
“I want to be your momma, baby,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “But I don’t know how. Right now, I just want mine.” Sobs worked their way up. “Do you know how much I love you?”
Noah ran back to the car and crammed the pump into the gas tank as fast as he could, pumping ten dollars in. Then he jumped in and handed me a roll of wintergreen LifeSavers.
“I know they always soothe your stomach when you—” He stopped short as he caught sight of my face. “What’s the matter? Shit, Jules, I’m sorry, I’ll hurry.” He jerked the car out of the parking lot and onto the feeder road on two wheels.
“No—it’s not that,” I sputtered. “I’m just—freaking out a little.”
Noah blew out a giant breath as he got back on the highway. “Baby, I know. I know you’re scared, I am too.” He glanced my way. “But it’s just like that song. You think this is the worst right now, but it’s really the best. I mean, yeah, it’s crazy but we’re—we’re starting our own family here. Right now.” He laughed out loud, sounding so proud. “My God, I’m about to be a dad.” He brought my hand to his lips and kissed it, kissing the little engagement ring that adorned my finger. “And you’re gonna be a great mom, Jules. Who cares that we’re starting early? I’ll stand with you and Little Bit till the end of time, baby.”
“I know,” I whispered, feeling the invisible hand squeeze my middle again. “Oh, God, this is so not cool, Noah,” I said in a grimace as I automatically doubled forward.
Five minutes that felt like five hours later, we screeched into the emergency room drive and Noah jumped out of the car and ran around. He opened my door and took my hand, pulling me to my feet. His blue eyes glittered with excited tears.
“This is it, Jules.”
“This is it,” I said back. I wrapped my arms around his neck for dear life. “I love you, Noah.”
“Always, baby,” he said, hugging me back. “I’ll always love you.”
“Don’t let go,” I whispered.
“Never,” he said into my hair. “Holy shit, look!”
I backed up and followed his eyes upward. The rain had turned into snow. Oh, my God, snow was falling. Here.
Noah started laughing and cradled my face in his hands, blinking fast. “It’s snowing, baby, it’s a sign. This is our miracle.”
I blinked upward as Noah knelt and kissed my belly. “Our miracle.”
I shut my eyes against the memory as I found myself on a darkened edge of the room, gripping the back of a chair. It had been years since that song spoke to me. I’d avoided it every time it came on the radio at first, and then when I moved on to darker, angrier music to numb things it wasn’t a consideration.
Over the years it was rarer to hear it, and when I did I usually changed the station and moved on. It wasn’t part of the last-moments-as-a-family montage like the painting and the bench were. It stood for the black moments that made up my mind. And I didn’t need to revisit that to remember them.
A back door exit caught my eye as a couple of women came inside from what I assumed was a smoke break. That’s what I needed. A smoke break. Ruthie had left the table again when I looked, finding other people to talk to as I kept ditching her, so I made a beeline for the door. Pushing through it, cold icy air hit my face, making me gasp with the contrast of it.
I welcomed it—sucked in big gulps of it, hoping it would freeze up everything inside of me. Numb everything. As the door settled back in place, the song and its taunting lyrics were muffled. The dual visual of Noah and Shayna locked up and Noah and I standing in the falling snow fizzled a bit with the icy wind. The cold and the darkness from no lighting wrapped around me as I sat in one of two old plastic chairs set out there against the brick walls. I felt like I could breathe easy for the first time that evening, and I leaned over, elbows on my knees, resting my forehead against my palms.
I considered myself a strong, independent woman. I never saw myself as weak or needy or weepy. I couldn’t stand those types of women. But it was too much. Upside down and sideways. My head spun through zinging thoughts of Becca, Hayden, Noah and that damn song, even Patrick and how I’d insulted him.
Hot tears burned my eyes, and I wiped them away as they turned cold on my cheeks. I had to get it together and quit this. I was better than this.
The sound from inside barreled out to me as the door opened again, and I tried to shrink against the brick in the dark, sniffing and wiping the wetness from my face. The aroma of beer and fried food wafted on the air.
“You okay?”
I wanted to groan at the familiar voice as he walked closer. I quickly wiped the remnants of my tears away and sat up straighter, feeling delirium coming on. I chuckled as I swiped under my eyes one last time.
“Do you have a GPS on me or something?”
Noah knelt directly in front of me, making my pulse jump up a notch. “I’m not that crafty,” he said, his voice low.
“Yeah, right.”
One shoulder shrugged slightly. “Well, maybe.” Even in the dark, I could see the hint of a grin tug at the corners of his lips. “But, no. I just wanted to check on you, I saw you come out here.”