I Swear I Still Hate Him (Atlas Lawson) novel Chapter 184

Chapter 184

Emery’s POV

The rest of the night was beautiful.

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Not perfect in some polished, movie kind of way. Better than that. Warm. Easy. Loud in all the right places. The kind of night that settles into your chest and makes you feel full without even realizing it.

We laughed, talked, ate dinner, and did a whole lot of catching up. Ford, of course, spent at least half that time praising his wife like he’d personally been hired to be her full-time hype man.

“And let me just say,” Ford said, one hand on his chest like he was giving a formal speech, “my wife is a warrior. A queen. A literal angel for carrying my little princess.”

Sam, who was sitting beside him, looking beautiful and sleepy and glowing in that deeply unfair pregnant- woman way, rolled her eyes.

“We don’t know if it’s a girl, Ford.”

That was true. They’d decided not to find out until the baby was born.

Ford looked at her stomach like he had spiritual access the rest of us didn’t. “Baby, I feel the connection. I know it in my soul. That little bundle of joy is my Princess Froda.”

I snorted.

Sam turned and looked at him like she was reconsidering all her life choices. “We are absolutely not calling our baby that.”

Ford winked. “You say that now, but when she comes out looking exactly like me, you’ll understand the vision.”

“She is not going to look exactly like you,” Sam said.

Jazz leaned back in her chair. “Honestly, for the baby’s sake, let’s all pray she doesn’t.”

Howard laughed into his drink.

Ford clutched his chest in fake offense. “This is hate. I’m being attacked in my own home.”

Sam pulled Ford in for a quick kiss. “It’s okay, honey, she could take your humor and your kind heart.”

Ford smiled like he was being hypnotized by his wife. “You’re right, baby, She can have your looks, but future junior Ford takes mine.”

“Deal, even though we have no control over our babies’ looks.”

Later, they showed us the baby’s room, and honestly? It was the sweetest thing I’d ever seen. Soft cream walls. Tiny folded clothes. Little stuffed animals lined up like they’d been trained. A rocking chair by the window.

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Chapter 184

One shelf full of children’s books already waiting for someone small enough to need them.

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Sam loved the gift we brought. Loved it so much she cried while opening it, which of course made Ford emotional too, even though he tried very hard to act like he wasn’t.

Then they led us into another room.

And the second I stepped inside, I froze.

Pictures. Everywhere. Pictures of us…..College us. I smiled before I even realized I was doing it, my eyes moving from frame to frame.

Ford noticed and kissed Sam’s forehead as he said, “We wanted to keep all the good memories in one place.”

“You guys can look around,” Sam said, already yawning.

Ford looked at her immediately. “Ohhh. Looks like it’s time to take my darling wife to bed.”

Before she could protest, he bent down and scooped her up into his arms.

Sam let out a surprised laugh and lightly slapped his chest. “Stop being cringy in front of our friends.”

Ford grinned down at her. “Cringy? Please. Don’t act brand new, baby. You eat this up every single time.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” Ford said, looking back at all of us with a smug little grin, “I remain the love of her life.”

“That,” Jazz muttered, “was physically painful to hear.”

We all laughed.

Sam sighed, but she was smiling. “I’m sorry, guys. I’m not gonna make it much longer.”

“Nah, you are literally growing a human,” Jazz said, waving her off. “Go rest.”

We all nodded.

Sam smiled at us, warm and sleepy. “Night, loves.”

“Night,” we echoed.

Ford carried her out like the dramatic husband he was, and once they were gone, the room felt quieter. Softer.

We kept looking through the pictures.

And there were so many.

More than I expected.

Pictures I didn’t even know had been taken. In the dorm rooms. At Ford’s beach house. At parties. In class. On

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Chapter 184

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the rink. At the gym. In the hallway. The kind of pictures people take when they don’t realize they’re documenting the best years of their lives.

Then I stopped.

My breath caught so softly I barely heard it myself.

It was a picture from the Linchester pool.

Sam, Jazz, and me in the water after practice, all grinning and soaked, hair slicked back, our arms wrapped around each other.

I moved to the next frame. And froze harder.

It was me after a meet.

I was holding up my medal, face flushed, smile huge, eyes bright with that wild kind of joy that only comes after a win. The kind that buzzes in your blood for hours and makes your whole body feel alive.

Jazz’s voice floated from somewhere behind me, soft and fond.

“It’s so nice Ford kept all of this…”

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “Good memories.”

My voice sounded steady enough.

I hoped.

Then Ford called from down the hall, “Hey, guys! Dessert’s ready!”

Jazz and Howard headed out.

“You coming?” Atlas asked gently.

I turned and looked at him. He was standing by the door, hands in his pockets, watching me with that quiet, patient expression that always made me feel too seen.

“Yeah,” I said. “Just a moment.”

He gave me a small smile and nodded. Then he walked out too.

I turned back to the wall and stepped closer, my fingers reaching for the frame with the meet photo.

I lifted it carefully and just… stared. At the girl in the picture. At the medal in her hand. At the smile on her

face.

God.

That hit something deep. Something raw. Something I hadn’t let myself touch in a long time.

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Chapter 184

I missed this.

Not just the medals. Not just the wins.

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The water. The feel of it around my body. The way it wrapped around me and carried me and fought me all at once. The burn in my lungs. The adrenaline in my veins. The scream of the crowd. The pressure in my chest before the whistle. The rush of touching the wall and knowing.

Knowing I was good.

Knowing I belonged there.

I closed my eyes, and for one fragile second, I swear I could feel it all again. The shock of the water. The roar from the stands. My teammates yelling. My own heartbeat pounding in my ears. I could almost feel the medal in my hand….Almost.

When I opened my eyes again, tears slipped out before I could stop them.

“Ugh,” I whispered under my breath.

I quickly dabbed under my eyes, careful, hoping I wasn’t messing up my makeup, hoping no one would walk in and catch me standing there crying over an old picture like I was coming apart. Because I wasn’t about to make tonight about me.

Not here. Not now. But the truth sat too heavy in my chest to ignore. I missed swimming. Modeling was good. It really was. It had given me confidence again, a new version of myself to grow into, a way to still feel beautiful and strong.

But swimming…

Swimming was different.

Swimming was mine.

My thumb moved gently over the glass, tracing the outline of the girl in the picture.

That was my dream.

Not was.

Is.

My gaze dropped slowly. Down. To my prosthetic leg. The room felt quieter all of a sudden. My throat tightened.

Could I still do it?

Could I still fight for that part of myself?

Could I still make that dream real again?