Chapter 3: Trapped between my past and future

Olivia’s POV

“So, how long have you two been together?” Noah asked smoothly, leaning back against the plush leather couch in the hotel lounge.

I gripped my glass so hard my knuckles turned white. “Four years,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Ethan smiled, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “Four amazing years. And in two weeks, she’s officially stuck with me forever.”

Noah took a slow sip of his whiskey. His eyes met mine over the rim of his glass, sending a nervous shiver through my body. “Two weeks,” Noah repeated softly. “Time really flies.”

“Excuse me for a second,” I choked out, sliding out from under Ethan’s arm. “I need to use the restroom.”

I rushed down the hallway and locked myself inside the quiet bathroom. I leaned against the marble sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks were flushed, and my hands were shaking.

Four years. I had spent four years building a clean, safe life with Ethan. And in less than ten minutes, a ghost from my past had walked through the door and turned my entire world upside down.

My phone buzzed on the counter. It was a text from my sister, Lily: How’s the welcome party? Is the mystery best man as ruggedly handsome as Ethan says?

I stared at the screen, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. I wanted to tell her everything. I wanted to scream that the best man was the stranger from Chicago. But I couldn't. I typed back: Just tired. Talk tomorrow.

I splashed cold water on my face, took a deep breath, and walked back out to face the night.

---

The next morning at seven o'clock, my phone rang and woke me up.

“Olivia, we have a crisis,” Mia’s panicked voice blasted through the speaker.

I sat up fast, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “Mia? What happened?”

“The Hudson Valley estate,” she said, sighing heavily. “A sudden autumn storm hit the area last night. A tree branch crashed through part of the guesthouse roof, and water is leaking into the main suite where you and the bridesmaids are supposed to stay.”

“Oh no,” I groaned, tossing off the covers. “I’m on my way.”

I called Ethan immediately, but he sounded totally stressed. “Liv, I can’t drive up there right now,” he said, paper rustling in the background. “Finn and I have an emergency meeting with investors that we can’t reschedule. But don't worry—I called Noah. He’s an architect, so he can inspect the structural damage. He’s picking you up in ten minutes.”

My heart stopped. “Wait, Ethan—no, I can go alone—”

“Nonsense, babe,” Ethan interrupted smoothly. “It’s safer if you go together. Plus, the storm is supposed to pick up again later today. I’ll see you tonight.”

Before I could protest, the call went dead.

---

Ten minutes later, I was sitting in the passenger seat of Noah’s large black truck. The rain was drumming heavily against the windshield as we drove up the highway toward the Hudson Valley.

The silence between us was loud. Neither of us said a word for the first thirty minutes.

“Are you going to ignore me the whole way?” Noah asked finally, breaking the quiet. His hands were steady on the steering wheel.

“I’m not ignoring you,” I said, looking out the side window at the passing trees. “I’m just focusing on the road.”

“Right,” Noah said, a faint smile touching his lips. “Because watching the windshield wipers is so exciting.”

“We’re professional adults, Noah,” I said sharply, turning to look at him. “We have a job to do today.”

“Is that what we are?” he murmured, glancing over at me. “Professional adults?”

“Yes,” I insisted. “And as professional adults, we are going to fix this roof, go back to Manhattan, and pretend that Chicago never happened.”

Noah didn't answer. He just looked back at the road, his jaw tightening slightly.

---

By the time we reached the Hudson Valley estate, the sky had turned dark grey, and rain was pouring down in thick sheets.

We ran inside the guesthouse, shaking the water from our coats. The estate was completely silent. The roof in the living room was dripping water into plastic buckets the caretakers had set out before leaving.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Noah said, stepping under the damaged ceiling. He reached up, examining the timber beams. “The main support structure is fine. It just needs new flashing and drywall.”

Suddenly, the lights flickered twice and shut off completely.

The entire house plunged into dark silence, save for the roaring sound of rain outside.

“Great,” I sighed, pulling out my phone. “No power.” I looked at the screen and groaned. “And no cell service out here in the hills.”

Noah walked over to the tall windows and looked outside. “The driveway is completely flooded, Liv. We aren't driving back to the city in this storm. We’re stuck here until morning.”

---

An hour later, the guesthouse was lit only by the warm orange glow of the fireplace.

Noah had built a roaring fire, while I found a few old blankets in the closet. We sat on the large rug in front of the hearth, drying off.

“So,” Noah said softly, watching the flames crackle. “Four years.”

“I told you, Noah,” I whispered, pulling a blanket around my shoulders. “Don't.”

“Why did you leave?” he asked, turning his dark eyes toward me. The shadows from the fire danced across his sharp jawline. “You promised you’d meet me at eight o'clock in the hotel lobby. I waited for three hours, Olivia.”

My heart hurt at the raw tone in his voice. “My father had a heart scare,” I admitted, my voice trembling. “I got a call at six in the morning. He was in the hospital back in New York. I panicked, packed my things, and boarded the first plane home. I didn't have your number. I didn't even know your last name.”

Noah stared at me, his expression softening as the anger drained out of him. “Your dad… is he okay?”

“He’s fine now,” I said softly. “It was just an anxiety attack, but I didn't know that then. By the time I checked on him, you were gone. You disappeared into thin air.”

“I tried to find you,” Noah said quietly, stepping closer to where I was sitting on the rug. “I called every hotel in Chicago. But without a last name, no one could help me.”

“Noah, please,” I stammered, my pulse racing as he knelt right in front of me. “It doesn't matter anymore. It’s too late. I’m marrying Ethan.”

“Do you love him?” Noah asked point-blank.

“Of course I do!” I blurted out.

“Then why are your hands shaking?” he whispered, his voice dropping an octave. “Why did your heart race the second I touched your hand last night?”

“Noah, stop—”

He reached out, his warm fingers gently cupping my cheek. The moment his skin met mine, all my defenses crumbled into dust. The air in the room felt thick, hot, and impossible to breathe.

“I’ve thought about you every single day for four years,” Noah murmured, his thumb brushing over my cheekbone. “I tried to forget that night. I tried to move on. But then I walked into that lounge, and there you were.”

“We can’t do this,” I whispered, but I couldn't pull away. My body refused to move.

“Tell me you don't feel it,” Noah said, leaning in so close his breath brushed against my lips. “Tell me you don't want this, and I’ll walk away right now.”

I looked into his dark, fiery eyes, and the lie died right in my throat.

Noah didn't wait any longer. He closed the tiny gap between us and pressed his lips against mine.

A sharp, electric shock ripped through my chest. The kiss was desperate, wild, and heavy with four years of hidden longing. I gasped against his mouth, my hands automatically reaching up to wind into his thick hair, pulling him closer. He wrapped his arms around my waist, lifting me slightly as he pulled me firmly against his chest.

The world outside—the storm, the wedding, Ethan, the guilt—completely vanished. There was only the fire, the heat of his body, and the taste of his lips.

Noah’s hand slid down my back, pulling me impossibly tight against him as the kiss deepened, turning hotter and hungrier by the second. My mind was spinning out of control.

Suddenly, Noah broke the kiss, resting his forehead against mine. Both of us were gasping for air, our chests heaving up and down in the dim light.

His dark eyes burned into mine, filled with a terrifying level of intensity. His hands gripped my waist tightly, holding me in place.

“Olivia,” he rasped, his voice rough and unsteady against my neck. “Look at me.”

I forced my eyes open, trembling all over.

“If we take one more step, there’s no going back,” he whispered, his grip tightening. “Tell me right now... do you want me to stay, or do you want me to leave?”