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I laughed while Noah pretended to be irritated, when I could see he was proud too.
I was fine with taking the subway, but Noah wouldn’t hear of it. He didn’t like the crowds or the idea of someone bumping into me or harassing me—and him not being able to prevent it. His protectiveness was sweet but intense too. After the mugging where I’d lost my violin, and then Deacon in the elevator all those years ago, Noah had made a vow to keep me safe as best he could. Maybe I was supposed to feel affronted by that—Melanie or Ava might have thought so—but I just felt loved. And cherished. And safe. I always felt safe with Noah.
We took a cab to what was now our townhouse.
A wedding gift from Noah’s parents. Our wedding had been a beautiful event in Bozeman, Montana, in a tiny little chapel overlooking the Gallatin Valley. Small and simple—but elegant too—with just our closest family and friends. It was perfect, and I thought I couldn’t be any happier.
When we returned to New York, my new father-in-law pressed a key and a deed into Noah’s hand and told us the townhouse was ours now, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Then my joy overflowed, and I knew exactly why. The townhouse was where my life restarted. Where myheartrestarted—brought back to life by Noah’s resuscitative kiss. I couldn’t imagine staying in New York City and not living there.
I thought Noah would feel strange or uncomfortable, given all of those long, solitary months he’d spent holed upstairs. But he told me he was glad. With me there, he said, it felt different. It felt like home. Any lingering demons were cast out when we redecorated to better suit his blindness and our tastes, and then we spent the two weeks of our at-home honeymoon christening the hell out of every room in the house.
That helped a lot too.
Now, I waited in the foyer on the first floor as Noah changed out of his suit and into his usual athletic pants and T-shirt. I looked toward what had been my room when I was an employee. It was now the guest room. The guest room on the third floor was now the baby’s room.
The baby’s room.
I smiled and hefted my bag that held the small box I’d been given today. I kept the bag on my left side, which was awkward to me, but I didn’t want Noah to feel it and wonder why I’d brought it along on our walk. He’d know soon enough.
He came down the stairs two at a time, and I just…watched.
He was so tall. So damn tall and sexy; he never failed to take my breath away, even after all this time, drinking him in every day.
I’d hoped I’d always feel this way.
I knew I always would.
Noah felt my gaze on him. As usual. “Got something in my teeth?”
“No. It’s just…you.”
He grinned crookedly and bent down to kiss me. And not a light, shallow peck, either. A deep, intense kiss that I felt in my lower belly that still burned for him, baby on board or not. Noah never kissed me like I was a delicate, fragile pregnant woman. Never.
“Where are we headed?” he asked, unfolding his cane. “Just a walk? Don’t you need to rest up for your recording session tomorrow?”
“I canceled it,” I said, leading him out in the beautiful New York City spring twilight. “Or postponed it, I should say. I warned them that might be the case. Paganini’s Caprice is insane, and I just can’t get the movement I need.” I glanced fondly at my belly. “Just one of many schedule interruptions or changes this little bugger is going to impose on us.”
Noah made a noncommittal sound, his expression darkening. I knew he was thinking about all the other things a baby requires and of his deep-rooted fear that he wouldn’t be able to provide them. Or worse, that his blindness would hurt her somehow or put her in danger. I couldn’t insult his intelligence and deny we had challenges, but I also hadn’t the faintest doubt he’d be nothing short of wonderful with our baby.
We crossed the always-busy Columbus Avenue and then started up the short path to what I considered ‘our bench.’ I tucked my bag on my left side and let out a gusty sigh of relief to be off my feet.
“I remember this bench,” Noah said, stretching out and setting his cane aside. He turned my direction. “Feeling nostalgic?”
“Something like that,” I said, biting back a smile. “Do you remember what happened here?”
His face softened. “As if I could forget. This is where I looked at you for the first time.”
“Yes. And you told me that you couldn’t see anything. But that wasn’t true, was it?”
“No,” he replied. “I saw you. You were so beautiful. I hadn’t expected that…or what I felt, seeing you. I didn’t expect that either.”
“Oh? You felt something for me? Even then?” I teased lightly. “I seem to recall a very decisive, ‘I can’t see shit with my hands.’”
“I may have been prone to exaggeration,” he said with a cough.
“I thought so.” I snuggled up against him, and he put his arm around me. “But you said you hadn’t expected to feel what you did. And what was that, may I ask all these years later?”
Noah turned his sightless gaze forward for a moment, as if trying to put his thoughts to words.
