“Seriously? Because going through life with the name Ziggy Bowie wasn’t traumatizing?” She rolled her eyes. “And Ziggy is my actual first name. Not a nickname. Not shortened from anything. Just—Ziggy. My mother used to tell me to be grateful my middle name isn't Stardust."
Noah laughed.
“It’s not funny.”
“It’s kind of funny. And I love your name." Noah said. “Ziggy Elizabeth Bowie.”
"You're the only one."
"I'm the only one whose opinion matters." He reached out, took her hand, and held it. "I love you,” he said. "And I understand if you're not ready to say it back."
She looked at their intertwined fingers. She’d found herself doing that a lot lately. But now, thinking about all the reasons she hadn’t said the words, she realized they were all stupid. "It's not that."
"You don't have to explain?—"
"I want to." Although, she wasn’t sure any of it would make any sense—the more she thought about it, the less it made sense to her. "It's hard to put into words exactly.”
“I get it. I don't want to push?—”
“You're not.” She'd stopped trusting her heart to men long before she'd ever met Noah. "You’ve made it so easy to fall into this. We just stepped back into something that’s always there, and the last five years were just a thing that happened in between. But I need a little time to catch up."
“I can’t change what I did. I can only say I’m sorry I hurt you. That I want to be better. Do better.
“I know. But because I've loved you for so long, saying it out loud makes it real in a way it wasn't before. And if it's real, it can be lost. And I don't think I could come back from losing it. Losing you. Not again."
“I feel the same way. Just know that I would never intentionally hurt you," he said. "I know that doesn't erase the last five years. But I'm in this. I want you and only you. I haven't wanted anyone else in a very long time." He held her gaze. "I'm not going anywhere."
She let those words sink into her chest, warm and soft, settling between her ribs like a soft blanket for her heart. He meant them. Not in the way some men said words in the passing moment, but the way a person made a promise with his soul. Her pulse quickened. Her mother had always told her that life was a risk, but love was the biggest risk she’d ever take, and it was always worth it.
"I love you," she said.
He reached for her, and she leaned in and kissed him—real and warm. The kind of kiss that repeated everything she’d just said and more.
His phone buzzed on the nightstand.
He pulled back. Looked at the screen. “What the hell is Baxter calling for on a Saturday morning?”
Fear filled her veins. It snaked around inside her system like snake venom. "Don't answer it,” she said too quickly.
“I have to.” Putting it on speaker, he answered. “Hello? Baxter?”
“Sorry to bother you, but it’s important.”
“I figured, so lay it on me.”
"I'm on my way over with Jag," Baxter said. “We’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Alright. See you then.” Noah tapped his cell, dropped the phone to the bed, and washed his hand over his face. “I’m not sure what to make of that.”
“I do. They're coming to warn you that there’s an arrest warrant,” she said. “I know it. I’ve seen it a dozen times with Jag. It’s what he’s done with friends before.”
"We don't know what this is," Noah said. “They don’t have reason to?—”
"Baxter doesn't show up at your house in the morning on a Saturday unless?—"
Noah took her hand. “We don't know anything, yet. Don't catastrophize before we know what we're dealing with."
She breathed in slowly, but her chest burned. She looked out the window, at the sunny Saturday morning, and thought about everything that had happened in the last eight days. Somehow, this carefully laid out plan had been orchestrated by Noah’s own father.