THIRTEEN
OLIVIA
I barely sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I picture a tiny heartbeat flickering on a screen.
Julian isn’t much better. Sometime around three in the morning, I wake to find him staring at the ceiling. His arm is wrapped around my waist, his hand resting possessively over my stomach.
I smile into the darkness. “You’re awake.”
His thumb brushes over the t-shirt I’m wearing. It’s his, a comfort I’m quickly getting used to when I sleep.
“Yeah, can’t sleep.”
I roll onto my side and prop my head on my hand. The city lights spill through the penthouse windows, painting soft shadows across his face. “What are you thinking about?”
His expression softens immediately. “Our baby.”
Warmth spreads through my chest. “Julian.”
“What?” He turns his head to face me.
“You say it like you’re still surprised.”
He lets out a quiet laugh. “I’m surprised.” His gaze drops to my stomach. “I spent years thinking I didn’t deserve this.”
My heart squeezes. I reach for his face, brushing my fingers along the rough line of his jaw. “You deserve it.”
His eyes meet mine. For a moment we just look at each other. Then he leans forward and presses a kiss against my forehead. “We should try to get some sleep.”
“We should.”
Neither of us moves. Eventually exhaustion wins.
When my alarm goes off a few hours later, it feels like I only closed my eyes for five minutes. Julian is already out of bed. I find him in the kitchen making breakfast. The smell of toast and eggs fills the room.
He turns as I enter. His entire face lights up. The sight still catches me off guard. After everything we have been through, he still looks at me like I’m something precious.
“Good morning.”
“Morning.”
He walks over immediately. One arm circles my waist. The other settles against my stomach.
I laugh. “There it is.”
“What?”
“The hand.”
He grins, not a single shred of regret in his eyes. “I’m checking on my girls.”
My girls. The words hit me so hard I have to blink back sudden tears. He’s been referring to the baby as a she, not once as a he. He’s so sure we’re having a girl. I suppose we should wait and see. Personally, I don’t mind either way, just as long as the baby is healthy.
Julian notices instantly. Concern flashes across his features. “Olivia?”
I shake my head. “I’m okay.”
His thumb brushes my cheek. “You’re crying.”
“Pregnancy hormones.”
His eyebrows rise. “You’ve been pregnant for five minutes.”
“I know.”
His laugh fills the kitchen. There isn’t a single doubt left in me. I love this man.
An hour later we’re in the car leaving the penthouse on the Upper East Side, heading toward the clinic downtown. Julian insisted on bringing a security vehicle to lead the way. For once, I didn’t argue. He expected me to, but after the masks and Kieran, I don’t mind the extra protection.
Julian reaches across the center console and takes my hand. His grip is warm, slowing the frantic rhythm of my pulse. “You nervous?”
“A little.”
He lifts my hand to his lips. “I’m right here.”
The simple promise settles something inside me.
When we arrive, the appointment passes in a blur.
Paperwork. Questions. Waiting. Then finally a nurse leads us into a softly lit examination room. Julian sits beside me while the technician prepares the machine. I squeeze his hand. He squeezes back immediately.
The room suddenly feels too small.
The technician smiles. “Ready?”
I nod. The cool gel makes me jump slightly as she applies it to my stomach. Julian chuckles beside me. Then the technician moves the wand across my skin.
The screen flickers. For a moment I don’t understand what I’m looking at. Then she points. “There.”
My breath catches. Inside a dark circle on the monitor is a tiny, distinct shape. It looks like a little gummy bear floating in the darkness, complete with a rounded head and microscopic buds where arms and legs are starting to form. So small. So impossibly small. Tears immediately fill my eyes.
“Oh my gosh.”
Beside me, Julian goes silent.
The technician adjusts a setting on the machine. Suddenly, the quiet room fills with a rapid, rhythmic, thumping sound. A heartbeat. Strong, fast, and beautiful, echoing like a miniature racehorse. The world stops. I stare at the screen while tears slide freely down my cheeks.
Our baby. That’s our baby.
Julian’s fingers tighten painfully around mine.
I look at him. His eyes never leave the monitor as a stray tear slips down his cheek.
He tries to wipe it away with his free hand, but I’ve already seen it.
His throat works. For several seconds he can’t speak.
When he finally does, his voice breaks. “That’s really our baby? ”
The technician smiles. “It certainly is. Heart rate is a perfect 160 beats per minute.”
I have never seen Julian look so overwhelmed. His eyes shine as he stares at the screen, like he’s witnessing a miracle. Maybe we both are.
When the appointment ends, the technician hands us several printed ultrasound photos. Julian treats them like priceless artifacts. By the time we reach the parking lot, neither of us can stop smiling.
I glance down at the photographs again. Our baby. The words still don’t feel real.
Our lead security vehicle pulls out of the parking area, and we follow right behind it, merging straight onto the FDR Drive for the trip back to the penthouse. Julian keeps one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting over mine. Everything feels perfect. Safe.
Ten minutes into the drive, the quiet atmosphere inside the car snaps. The dashboard console bleeps, and the voice of our driver, Marcus, comes through the speaker from the escort vehicle ahead.
“Sir,” Marcus says over the speaker, his voice low and tense. “I think someone is following you.”
The smile vanishes from Julian’s face instantly. His eyes fly to the rearview mirror anyway. Beside him, my pulse begins to climb.
“There’s a dark blue SUV with tinted windows two cars behind you,” Marcus responds.
“Every time you slowed down or changed lanes back there near the bypass, he mirrored you to stay close. He’s been back there since we pulled out of the clinic gate.”
The temperature inside the car seems to drop ten degrees. I look back through the rear window. The heavy, dark silhouette of the SUV sits exactly where Marcus described. Not gaining, not falling back, just following close.
My heartbeat pounds against my ribs. “Julian...”
“I see him, Love,” he murmurs, his gaze locked on the mirror.
Behind us, as if realizing its cover is blown, the black SUV suddenly guns its engine, pulling out of the traffic line and accelerating hard toward our unprotected rear bumper.
Before Julian can veer into the next lane, the impact slams into us. Metal crunches. My body jerks forward against the seatbelt, and a scream tears from my throat.
“Julian!”