41. Admittedly, a Control Freak
41
ADMITTEDLY, A CONTROL FREAK
CHARLES
My alarm clock wakes me up at five, and like every other day, the first thing I do is pick up the envelope tucked in between the various pregnancy books stacked up on my nightstand, replacing my usual productivity reads.
I take out the first ultrasound photo of our blip .
Buried in these black-and-white dots is a heartbeat—a piece of me and a piece of Daisy.
You don’t become a dad until you see your baby. My dad’s words ring in my ears.
“I’m trying, blip,” I whisper before placing the picture back into the envelope.
After a quick shower, I change into black sweats and a T-shirt, ready to prepare Daisy’s breakfast with Mrs. K like we’ve been doing the past four weeks.
I run a hand through my hair, hesitantly going for my phone.
There’s no point in dancing around it. Every fucking day, Chloe sends me a text reminding me how much of a jerk I’ve been to her niece, and I have to remind her to mind her own business.
Filled with forced determination, I reach for my phone.
Now what?
Did my little sister come back to her senses?
That doesn’t sound like Chloe.
I check my phone again in case there’s some problem with the network, but everything seems okay.
Maybe she stayed up late working or watching a movie.
Yeah, that has to be it.
I’m so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t even see Mrs. Kowalski in the kitchen.
“We’re ready, Mr. Hawthorne. As per the recipe you sent me last night, I got fresh raspberries.”
When I snap my head up to her from my phone, her smile drops.
“Is everything okay?”
I shrug, taking the apron from her hands and tying it effortlessly.
“I receive a text from Chloe every morning without fail. But today, she’s silent. It feels weird. I guess I just miss her.” I smile, trying to shake the ominous feeling slowly finding space in my chest.
“Your sister loves you a lot.” Mrs. Kowalski places a cup of coffee before me as I start to read the recipe printout I handed her yesterday.
First thing, eggs.
I’m about to grab the mixing bowl when the doorbell rings, followed by a beep alerting us that someone has walked in.
A cold sweat breaks out on my forehead, chilling my skin.
Apart from Mrs. Kowalski, there are only two staff members who have direct access to my house. Dave and Steve. But they wouldn’t be here without reason.
And I don’t have to wait long, because moments later, both of my bodyguards fill my living room, harrowed expressions on their faces.
“You need to see this, sir.” Dave doesn’t say more and grabs the remote from the counter.
My stomach clenches with a nauseating twist of dread.
The TV monitor in the kitchen comes to life, putting my chest in a chokehold.
“This is live,” Steve confirms, as I’m unable to look anywhere but at Daisy on the screen.
Dressed in a yellow summer dress and a long cardigan, flats on her feet, her hands clutched in front of her, she stands in the middle of a sea of reporters outside Cherrywood Memorial Hospital. She blinks on the screen, and my stupor breaks.
“Where the fuck is her security?” I grab my phone from the counter, my grip painfully tight as I dial Carter King, but the call goes straight to voicemail.
“They were two cars behind, as always, Mr. Hawthorne, but as soon as Daisy stepped out of her car, the press surrounded her and now there are cameras everywhere. Her bodyguards are trying to get to her.”
I’m still processing Steve’s words when I hear a reporter’s voice on the screen.
“Mrs. Hawthorne, congratulations on the good news. But where’s Mr. Hawthorne? We heard you’re no longer staying at his residence. Is this true?”
I pull my gaze from Daisy’s face to the headlines running at the bottom of the screen.
Is the local fairy-tale love story coming to an end?
Or was it a marriage of convenience that has finally come to its planned ending?
“I need his name!” My growl roars in my living room. “I need the name of this dumbfuck reporter who thought he could ask these fucking questions to my wife.” I turn to face my bodyguards, who nod furiously before I speed-dial the chief of police.
“Mr. Hawthorne, I’m seeing the news. We are—”
I don’t waste time in pleasantries and interrupt whatever he’s about to say.
“I need the streets from my estate to the hospital all clear, Chief. Not a single vehicle, not a single soul.” My chopper could have been faster for the distance, but not when it’s impromptu.
“You got it, Mr. Hawthorne.”
“Let’s go.” I’m already striding toward the door, when Mrs. K gasps my name.
“Mr. Hawthorne, you should take it off!” She points toward the apron still tied to my front as shock and worry consumes her features.
I tear the material away from me, swallowing the wince when the neck strap bites my skin. Without caring where it lands, I march down the stairs, forgoing the elevator, with Dave and Steve on my heels.
The minutes-long ride to the hospital feels like hours, while my gaze stays on the live newsfeed running on my iPad.
She’s still there, in the midst of the crowd.
Nervous and worried, facing questions no one should have dared to ask her. It should have been my task, protecting her, protecting our blip.
But I’m coming, butterfly.
We finally fucking arrive, and I don’t care whose collar I grab as I make my way toward my wife.
The annoyed looks around me morph into shock as I’m recognized by the swarm of men holding cameras and mics. I don’t give a damn about the flashes that go off, as the attention only makes it easier for me to reach Daisy.
Five months.
It’s been almost five fucking months since I last saw her in person, breathed the same air as her.
And she looks more beautiful than in any of my fantasies and dreams.
My heart pounds violently in my chest, each beat like a drum roll. “You do like to attract a crowd, my dear wife,” I finally whisper, my mouth almost dry, words sticking in my throat.
I’m not thinking about the cameras or reporters when I caress her cheek, soft as always, and right now, red in nervousness.
She sucks in a breath, her lips quivering and her eyes closed as she leans into my touch, filling my chest with relief and happiness.
“I’m sorry for being late, Daisy.” Five fucking months late.
Before I can apologize for my absence, my failures in being a better husband and a decent father, someone hollers, pulling me right out of this heaven.
“Mr. Hawthorne, are you saying you and Mrs. Hawthorne are still together? Our sources have confirmed that she’s staying with her friend.”
Even when I hate doing it, I turn my head toward the man who said those words.
“You certainly need better sources, because the ones you rely on are doing a shit job.” A fire burns in my chest, spreading outward in a wave of heat as I pin the reporter with a steely gaze. “Does your wife never stay with her friends?”
“I’m not married.” He squirms, giving me a huge satisfaction.
Of course you’re not. Fucking loser.
“Many months back, in a situation similar to this, I said in very clear words…” I pause, making sure I have everyone’s attention. “If ever my wife’s safety and her comfort are threatened, you’ll get to see the real me. But today, you didn’t just make her uncomfortable, you also put her and my baby at risk.”
My arms go around Daisy’s waist, and I gently pull her close. My heart jolts at an unbridled intensity as it registers the changes in her body. Something I’ve observed only from afar until now. There’s relief at having her close after so long beneath the nervousness as the reality of us becoming parents becomes starkly clear.
When my palm rests over her hip, I feel a shiver run through Daisy before she further slumps against my chest.
How did I manage to stay away from her, knowing she’s needed me?
Not any longer, butterfly.
But first things first.
I turn to face the media with more determination.
“Tomorrow is definitely not looking good for a lot of you. You can expect suspensions and termination letters at your desks.” I don’t stop, even when a collective gasp fills the air and the bright camera flashes suddenly stop. “And for all those who are scheming at publishing their last piece, labeling me a control freak and a tyrant, let me confirm—yeah, I gladly accept those titles. I’m the control freak who will do everything to protect his wife and his baby. And now, if you would excuse us, we have an important appointment to keep.”
I turn away from my stunned audience. Dave, Steve, and Daisy’s bodyguards create a barricade until we reach the steps of the hospital.
“Charles,” she whispers, finally finding her voice.
There’s so much I have to say, so much I want to hear, but not here.
“Everything’s okay, butterfly.”
There’s a flock of people waiting for us just inside the glass sliding doors, including the two security guards of the hospital.
“Thank God you’re safe, Daisy.” The head of the OB-GYN department steps forward. “We called the police, and they should be here any minute. But of course, your husband’s way was much more effective.” The woman doesn’t hide her smile, reminding me of her picture from the hospital website. I’ve had her résumé and personal background memorized since she started checking my wife.
“Okay, people, let’s get back to work. Show’s over.” She waves the pink file in her hand and shoos around the crowd before turning to the two security guards. “And you two, for Christ’s sake, be better at your job. I don’t want a repeat of this.”
There’ll be no repeat. I’ll make sure of that.
I’m definitely not counting on anyone else when it comes to Daisy’s safety.
“Daisy, Mr. Hawthorne, this way. I’m all ready for you.” The doctor saunters toward the hallway, and I don’t get to ask Daisy anything—not even how she’s feeling—because we’re immediately ushered into the examination room.
The soothing pastel walls have framed prints of babies. Daisy goes behind the privacy screen while I’m rooted in my spot next to an examination table, covered with a crisp white disposable sheet.
“Is this your first ultrasound, Mr. Hawthorne?” the doctor asks casually while I suppress the urge to shake under her scrutiny.
As the adrenaline starts to cool, my anxiety at being in a completely unfamiliar place starts to make its grand appearance. There was no time to prepare myself for all of this. I become aware of my tight fists and clenched jaw when Daisy’s cold hand rests over mine.
She’s right beside me, and once again her touch takes away all my anxiety until it’s just hope that’s left behind.
I help her as she lies down, and not taking my eyes off her encouraging face, I hum a yes to the doctor.
“Then I must warn you, it’s an unforgettable experience.”
I don’t tell her that everything has been unforgettable since our little blip made an appearance. But nothing could have prepared me for the loud thumping sound that fills the room.
My pulse thunders in my ears as I look between Daisy and the doc, who grins widely.
“That’s right. This is your baby’s heartbeat, Mr. Hawthorne.”
“So strong?” The words slip out of my mouth in equal parts wonder and amazement.
How can something so tiny be so strong?
Daisy’s grip tightens around my hand, and I watch a single teardrop rolls down her cheeks.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” The doctor’s gaze is focused on the screen before her, while I’m unable to look anywhere else but at my wife.
Beautiful is a weak word to describe what I’m feeling right now.
This moment is breathtaking. Divine.
It’s the promise of a happy lifetime.