All Chapters of Diagnosis: Love: Chapter 181 - Chapter 190

NOAH"This is all so beautiful." My mother stood with me on the front porch of Emma and Deacon's cabin, gazing out over the neatly planted rows of vegetables and the trees beyond. "Emma and Deacon have built a beautiful home here.""Yeah, they have," I agreed. "Although I'm not sure how much Deacon had to do with the building since he was overseas when the rest of us were working so hard. Still, they both made it more of a home. They're happy here.""And what about you?" My mother glanced at me. "You're living with Alison now at her house in that small town? What about your home?"I shrugged. "I don't really know," I admitted. "I've had some thoughts, and a couple of ideas, but I don't want to make any big decisions until after the baby comes."My mother eyed me. "Will you think that I'm interfering again if I ask how you and Alison are getting along?"I sighed heavily. "No, it's not interfering. I just don't have a good answer for you. We're …" I squinted, trying to figure out h

NOAH"Spencer." Coach stood up from where he was sitting at a small round table in the corner of the coffee shop. He stretched out a hand toward me. "Good to see you. You look a hell of a lot better than the last time I saw you.""Thank you, sir." I shook his hand. "I feel a hell of a lot better than I did then, too. I want to say again, sir, that I'm sorry for –""No more apologies, Spencer." Coach shook his head. "That's water under the bridge now." He hesitated. "I assume you saw all the paperwork for your retirement?""Yeah." I nodded. "Everything looked good to me. And I appreciate the team waiting as long as you did to make the announcement. I heard from the head of PR that you're going to release a statement next week?"Coach nodded. "Of course, it's more of a formality now than anything else. I don't think anybody is under the impression that you're going to be coming back to play with us this year. Not after we drafted Ramonez.""True," I chuckled, thinking of the guy wh

NOAH"What's the world record for the longest pregnancy ever?" I glanced up at Alison from the book I was reading. We were both lying on her bed while a movie that neither of us was very invested in played on the TV. The couch downstairs had become too uncomfortable for her over the past week or so, so we'd begun hanging out here in her room. It was strictly for comfort, though; we stayed on top of the covers, with Alison on one side while I stuck to the other. It was a king-sized bed with plenty of room for us. But while we hadn't hesitated to cuddle and kiss on the sofa, something about being on the bed made us more cautious. I didn't know why, exactly; Alison was so tired of being pregnant that she wasn't up for much of anything other than television lately. She'd stopped going into the office after her due date since she'd already arranged with Dr. Johanson to cover her hours. So we were both at home now all the time . . . just waiting.She really was huge. While the ultraso

ALISON Spoiler alert: having sex with Noah did not start my labor.But it sure was worth the effort. Two days after that monumental night-and after we'd given it the good old college try several more times-we went to Maggie's office. I was in a rotten mood-being a million years pregnant can do that to a person-and poor Noah looked a little haggard. He'd been sleeping with me in my bed (we both clung to the excuse that if I went into labor, I'd want him closer than across the hall), which meant that he woke up whenever I had to climb out of that bed to pee. He thought I'd been exaggerating about how often I had to go. He was quickly disabused of that notion. After a quick exam, Maggie made some notes on her tablet and then turned to the both of us. "So listen," she began. "Do you want to have this baby?" I stared at her as though she'd lost her mind. "What the hell do you think I've been trying to do for over three weeks now, Maggie?" I bellowed. "Of course, I want to have th

NOAHParenthood was amazing, fulfilling, beautiful, awesome . . . and exhausting. The first few weeks of baby Evangeline's life at home were a blur, a constant, never-ending whirlwind of feeding, and changing, and washing, and catching whatever small bites of sleep we could whenever she slept. People came to visit and brought gifts and food, and I was pathetically grateful for that, because I didn't have the energy to cook, and both Alison and I were tired of takeout. The one factor that made everything survivable was the baby herself. God, I hadn't known how much I was going to love this ten-pounds of tiny, perfect human. I'd never anticipated that staring at her sleep for an hour was better than four quarters of football. Or that catching what might have been a smile could make me feel as though I'd just witnessed greatness. What was some missing sleep compared with noting how well my two-week-old daughter could lift up her head?Even so, as much as I was ga-ga over my baby gir