Previously: "So, now you know what Lee told me. Why don't you tell me what you wanted to tell me?"

(Elle)

I try to put aside my frustration at Lee and refocus on everything I'd wanted to tell Noah. It had seemed like an overwhelming conversation to initiate when I was thinking about it this week, but now that I'm here, now that Noah has me tucked against him, the words come more easily than I expected. And if I'm honest, knowing that Noah has already heard some of it from Lee, that the broad brushstrokes are already out there, ends up helping. So maybe it won't be all yelling when I call Lee out for his meddling.

I start with October. With the panic that had come over me when our wholly unexpected, thrilling new beginning suddenly started feeling like one more thing that might fall apart and leave me shattered. The panic that Noah was going to to rearrange everything for me and I wouldn't live up to it. The shame about how I could feel so scared when he was so confident. The literal, physical, heart-racing, breath-stealing panic that sent me running.

I tell him about the letters I wrote and never sent those first few weeks. Those attempts to explain that I could never get sounding right because I didn't actually have a good explanation to give. I tell him about the hours I stared at my phone and wondered if maybe I should just call and fake a confident voice and tell him I was ready to talk and ready to try this. Even though I knew I wasn't.

I tell him about finally telling Mickey what had happened. About Mickey's gentle suggestion that my panic might be of broader scope and longer history than just that weekend or just Noah. About the realization that Mickey was right about how hard Dad's accident had hit me and how long I'd failed to deal with those fears and anxieties.

Noah's been trying to interrupt all through my rambling narrative and for the most part I've brushed him off, plowing forward with what I need to say, but he doesn't let me this time.

"I never should have left. After the accident. I should have stayed and seen what was happening to you and not... let all this happen the way it did."

"It wasn't up to you. I was the one telling you to go back. I wish you hadn't left the way you did. Without warning, in the middle of the fight. Before I'd even fully realized we were in a fight. But I don't think it would have gone much differently anyway. I still would have insisted you go back to Harvard. I still wouldn't have let you stay."

"We could have been together even after I'd gone back. Not broken up, I mean. That's another apology I owe you. For making it so all or nothing. For being so angry that you didn't want me to stay that I didn't bother asking how you did want me to help. There's no reason we couldn't have survived being long distance again, at least until I graduated. I don't know why I couldn't see that, then. And maybe then I would have realized what you were going through."

"And I probably still would have pushed you away. We had all those calls after you left, and I escalated the fight as much as you did. I was so angry and scared about Dad and fighting with you was just... a relief. Even if you hadn't started out angry, I would have kept on pushing and pushing at you until you were, until I had someone to vent all my rage at. Not that I realized that's what I was doing, then."

And then I tell Noah about the counselor I've been seeing. About starting to piece together the cumulative effects of losing Mom, of almost losing Dad, of keeping everything together for Brad. About starting to understand and master the fears that had been driving me. About working on facing the idea of making plans for the future without always assuming the worst. And I tell him it's something we'll keep talking about. That it's not something I'm all the way over, but that I'm done denying it.

And then I hesitate, because I've reached the part of the story when I most failed him, but I make myself press forward.

I tell Noah about January, when Mickey made me acknowledge the increasingly obvious and take that pregnancy test. When all the panic came rushing back and I couldn't face calling him for fear of the worst-case scenarios that were crowding out every other thought in my brain. That Noah would never forgive me for October. Worse yet, that Noah would never forgive me for October, but would still try to reconcile, only for the baby. Or that Noah would claim to forgive me and say all the right things and propose and I'd never, ever be sure it wasn't just for the baby. Or that this baby would instead derail any chance of reconciliation. That Noah would never believe I would have reached out without this news. And I really don't have a better explanation for my two months of silence than all those paralyzing fears.

Noah tries to interrupt again, but I shake my head and give him a pleading look as I forge on. The arm he'd wrapped around me earlier has slowly drifted to let his hand curve over my belly and I let the warm weight of that hand remind me that we are here now, together, and that none of those worst cases have come to pass.

I tell him about the month spent barely acknowledging the reality of the pregnancy, and then the month of slowly getting my act together. And all the while Mickey nudging me daily, gently at first and then exasperatedly, to just tell him. Then Dad joining that chorus. And then Lee, just two weeks ago. And obviously I knew they were right. Obviously on a rational level I knew that even if my fears had been reasonable, waiting wasn't going to help anything. But I wasn't acting on a rational level, and so long as I didn't tell Noah I could put off finding out what would happen. Put off the possibility of the worst case scenarios playing out. It's not a good reason. But it's the truth, and so I share it with him.

And now, finally, he knows it all.

There's a long silence. Finally, Noah speaks.

"Lee told me about Christmas. About you braving family dinner even though I was supposed to be there, and planning to talk to me that night. So let's put some of the blame for the delay back where it belongs, on me, for being a coward. Or even earlier, for being so all-or-nothing in October. But even if Lee hadn't told me that, Elle, I'd still never have believed you were only reaching out because of the baby. Maybe the thought went through my mind, briefly, but I never believed it. Because I've known you your entire life and I know you never would, never could. And as for me, I wish I knew how to convince you I'd be desperate to fix this regardless of the baby. I guess my stupid ultimatum is to blame here again, for making you think I never would have reached out. Elle, I don't know how long I would have held out, waiting for you to make the first move. Probably too long. But at some point I'd have seen you again and realized what I realize every time I see you. So maybe the baby changed the timeline, saved us more wasted time. But it didn't change my feelings. And you don't need to believe me today, but I hope you will soon."

We sit in silence for a minute, and finally I reach for his hand and curl mine into it. "I already believe you. For the same reason, because I've known you too long to believe otherwise. I didn't say my fears were rational, or realistic. They just... were."

"Alright, I think we're done." Noah says it softly but decisively after another few quiet moments.

"Done?" I lift myself from his side as I say it, turning to face him.

"Stop! Not like that." Noah must have seen the confusion flash through my eyes at his pronouncement, and he reaches to wrap my hand back in his. "I meant I think we're done having this conversation. Rehashing these fights. What-iffing ourselves crazy. We needed to talk about it, and now we have, and I'm glad we understand what happened better. And we'll come back to it, if we need to. But I think it's enough for now. We're never going to change what happened, no matter how many times we apologize for every misstep and wrong turn. And we're just going to have to be okay with that, and move on to what we're doing now... if you agree."

Noah smiles tentatively at me, watching my reaction, and I'm reminded exactly how much potential there is in what we're doing now. That our situation is far from being an unfortunate outcome that we're trying to make the best of.

"Yeah. I think I do agree." My smile grows as I say it, and I watch Noah's smile broaden too.

"So what do we want to do now?"

I pale slightly at Noah's question, and he laughs softly. "Relax, Elle. I didn't mean let's jump into figuring out our whole future, right now. I meant what are we doing now, tonight. It's been a very, very long time since I've gotten to spend a Friday night with you. We should take a break from all this talking and... go do something."

Just like that, his grin and playful tone transform the mood.

"Are you asking me out on a date, Noah Flynn?" I tease him.

"Why, is it too soon? Should I wait another six years? I wouldn't want to rush anything." It's that quirk of his lips and that twinkle in his eye and there is no way he doesn't know exactly what they do to me.

"And just what did you have in mind?"

"We've both had dinner, and it's late enough that a movie would conflict with your newfound love of early bedtimes that I will absolutely not be making fun of. But you did say you wanted to see the school, so - how about a tour?"

"A tour... in the dark? Do you not understand how tours work?"

He rolls his eyes at me. "It's a nice night with a nearly full moon, it's a pretty campus, and most of the buildings will be lit. I was suggesting a romantic walk, you goof. Would it help if I mentioned there's an ice cream shop right next to campus?"

"See, you should have led with that ice cream part. Now I'm sold."

I spend the short drive to campus trying to make myself stop thinking of everything in terms of the past. That the last time we drove together was this, or the last time we got ice cream together was that. We've agreed to let the past be the past and move on, but it's going to take some practice. Then I'm distracted by a question that I'm not sure how to bring up.

"Are we going to run into people you know, walking around campus?"

"This late on a Friday? Probably not. But maybe. Why?"

"Just wondering if this could get awkward. Does anyone know yet? About me and the pregnancy?"

"No, but they will soon. So if we do see anyone, I guess that'll just accelerate the process."

I don't know why the prospect of sharing the news still makes me so nervous. These wouldn't even be people I know, tonight, and I survived telling several dozen classmates this week. But this would be the first time with Noah, and maybe I'm nervous wondering what he would say. How he'd describe the news. And yet he seems entirely relaxed about the prospect, and probably I should learn to let his confidence carry me.

As it turns out, I needn't have worried - Noah was right that campus would be nearly deserted. The closest we come to having to discuss the pregnancy with anyone else is when the scooper at the ice cream shop tells me the cookie crumbles on top of my cone are on the house, "for the baby."

Noah was also right about the romance of a moonlit walk. His hand has settled at the small of my back, navigating us around the winding paths, and I smile to myself at the idea of our being on a simple ice cream date after all of our history.

It's quickly become apparent that Noah knows absolutely nothing about the actual history of the school - "I was hired to teach math and coach football, not lead campus tours, Shelly," he chuckles - so instead we make up stories about each of the buildings and their namesakes as we go along, struggling to contain our laughter as the stories get more ridiculous. We finally end up by the football field and sit in the bleachers while Noah tells me about the past season. I'll admit I tune out slightly, distracted by the warmth of Noah's arm around me and memories of watching him play football.

"So I guess the coaching staff don't wear uniforms, do they?" I suddenly interrupt.

Noah looks at me in confusion. "We have team jackets, if that's what you're asking."

"But not football uniforms? Pity."

Noah catches my smirk and shakes his head in mock dismay. "So you've lost interest now that I'm out of uniform?"

"In football? Kinda. But you, I'll keep around."

"Is that so?"

"I mean, that grown-up prep school look you've got going today, that works too."

"So you really are with me only for my clothes?"

"No, you'd still be tolerable without the clothes."

I realize how it sounds the instant I've said it, and I bury my face in my hands laughing.

"Tolerable, huh? I think I can safely say I feel the same about you. You're very... tolerable, with or without clothes."

We are both laughing almost to the point of tears now, collapsed against each other, and I suspect most of it isn't the unintentional innuendo, it's the relief of having something silly to laugh about after so many heavy conversations.

I'm still laughing as Noah finally kisses me, the arm around my back pulling me in closer and his other hand lifting my face to his. It's nothing like the shy kiss we'd shared last week, and as it heats up I'm rapidly reconsidering my intentions not to rush anything this weekend. Until the wolfwhistling and cheers startle us apart.

And that's when we spot them, three teens tossing a football down the field, previously hidden by the shadows.

Noah is laughing hard once again, his arm still looped around me, and he gives the teens a sarcastic wave before turning back to face me.

"Well, my reputation's about to improve."

"Those are your students?" They're fleeing now, and at least they can't see me blushing in this dim light.

"Yep. Two are on the team, and I'll be seeing all three of them Monday in class."

"Yikes. Sorry."

"No, no apologies. Are you kidding? Getting caught making out on campus in the dark? Now I have a mysterious secret life for them to gossip about."

"Do you think they noticed the belly?"

"From that distance, when you're sitting? I highly doubt it. But so what if they did?"

"Might not help your reputation as much."

"Elle, why are you so concerned about people finding out? Unless you're planning to move to San Francisco, which I doubt, at some point soon I'm going to resign for next year, and I wasn't planning to hide the reason. I'm certainly not embarrassed about it, if that's what you're thinking."

"I didn't mean it that way. Although I'm glad to hear that. I just meant - to high school boys, I'm pretty sure this situation right here is more nightmare than aspirational."

"Ah, you might be right on that one. If you want to come visit class sometime, we could scare them straight that nothing's quite foolproof. Maybe while we're studying stats."

I chuckle, but we're flying close to sensitive topics now, and Noah notices the shift in my expression.

"Elle - you know I'm happy about this, right? That this isn't a nightmare situation to me? Not even remotely. Incredibly unexpected, but the exact opposite of a nightmare."

And I'd kind of gathered as much circumstantially, from the warmth in his voice and the emotion in his eyes when the baby is mentioned and the protective reverence with which his hands keep drifting to cradle my belly, but it really doesn't hurt to finally hear it said. And then I realize I've also never said it plainly.

"I think maybe I've forgotten to say that, too. That I don't think this is a nightmare. That this has the potential to be - amazing. Although, if we're being completely honest - it was this week I finally let myself admit that. Once I saw we - had a chance. More than a chance. And I realize it's my fault it took so long to get us to this point." The tears are back. I'm surprised I've made it so much of this evening without them.

Noah doesn't reply, he just stands and holds his hand out to me to join him.

"Come on, Elle. It's late. I think we've talked enough for tonight. More than enough. Let's get home."