20. Sabrina
— ? —
Sabrina
I woke to the sound of beeping and the smell of antiseptic and Killian’s hand wrapped around mine.
For a moment I just lay there, letting my eyes adjust to the dim light of the hospital room, trying to piece together how I’d gotten here. The last thing I remembered was Cordelia’s face, twisted with rage as I slammed the door, and then the world tilting sideways.
And Ivy. Ivy screaming for me.
I tried to sit up, and Killian’s grip tightened on my hand.
He was asleep in the chair beside my bed, his body contorted into an uncomfortable position that suggested he hadn’t moved in hours.
His eyes were puffy and red-rimmed, evidence of tears he’d shed while I was unconscious.
His jaw was rough with stubble, and his clothes were wrinkled, the same suit I’d seen him wear to fancy meetings.
He’d come. He’d dropped everything and come.
My chest cracked open, letting in a rush of feeling I couldn’t name.
I tried to slip my hand free so I could sit up properly, and the movement woke him instantly. His eyes flew open, and for a moment he looked confused, disoriented. Then his gaze found mine and his whole face transformed.
“Sabrina.” My name came out broken, reverent. “You’re awake. Oh God, you’re awake.”
He was up and leaning over me in an instant, his hands cradling my face, his eyes searching mine with desperate intensity.
“How do you feel? Are you in pain? Do you need anything? Let me call the nurse. I should call the nurse. Are you thirsty? Your lips look dry. Here, there’s water, let me-”
“Killian.” I caught his hand before he could reach for the water pitcher. “Stop. Breathe.”
“I can’t breathe. I’ve been trying to breathe for hours and I can’t. You were unconscious and Ivy called me crying and I was in Boston and I couldn’t get here fast enough and I thought-” His voice cracked. “I thought I was going to lose you.”
“I’m okay.”
“You’re in a hospital. That’s not okay. That’s the opposite of okay.”
“But I’m awake now. And I’m talking to you. So it’s going to be okay.”
He pressed his forehead against mine, his breath warm on my face. We stayed like that for a long moment, just breathing together, his hands still cupping my cheeks, unwilling to let go.
“Don’t ever do that to me again,” he whispered. “Don’t ever scare me like that again. I can’t survive it. I can’t survive losing you.”
“You didn’t lose me.”
“I almost did. I was on a plane watching the clouds and thinking about all the things I never said, all the things I should have done differently, all the ways I failed you. And I kept thinking, what if I don’t get to tell her? What if I never get the chance?”
The tears were building behind my eyes. I could feel them, hot and insistent, threatening to spill over.
Because I knew what was coming. I was in a hospital, which meant doctors and tests and medical records. And somewhere in those records was the truth I’d been hiding.
He was going to find out. Either from me or from a nurse or from a chart, he was going to find out that I was pregnant and I hadn’t told him.
I needed to be the one to say it, before a chart or a nurse said it for me.
“Killian.” I pulled back slightly so I could look at his face. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Anything. Whatever it is, we’ll handle it together.”
“I’m pregnant.”
The words landed and neither of us moved. He didn’t look surprised. If anything, he looked like a man finally allowed to set down something he’d been carrying at arm’s length.
“I told a stranger to tell the dispatcher you were pregnant,” he said. “I didn’t know. I just knew.”
“You were right.”
“How long have you known?”
“A few weeks. Since just after we got here.”
“And you didn’t tell me.”
“I couldn’t.” The tears were falling now, streaming down my cheeks without permission.
“I was so scared, Killian. After last time, after the miscarriage, I couldn’t bear the thought of going through that again.
And I kept thinking, what if I tell him and then I lose this baby too?
What if I have to watch his face when it happens?
What if I lose this one and there’s nothing left of us afterward? ”
His eyes were bright with unshed tears. “So you carried it alone. All this time, all the stress and fear and everything else, you carried it by yourself.”
“I didn’t know how to let you in. You were gone all the time, and when you were here, you were distracted, and I kept waiting for the right moment but the right moment never came.”
“The right moment shouldn’t have mattered. You should have been able to tell me whenever you were ready, and I should have been present enough to notice that something was wrong.”
“You noticed. In the grocery store. You asked what was going on.”
“I should have pushed harder.”
“No.” I caught his hand again. “This isn’t about what you should have done. This is about what I did. I kept a secret from you because I was scared, and that wasn’t fair. You deserved to know.”
He was crying now, tears running down his cheeks without any attempt to hide them.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “For every night I worked late and every dinner I missed and every time I chose work over you. For the fact that you were terrified and alone with this when I should have been sitting right here holding your hand.”
“Killian-”
“No, let me finish.” He took a shaky breath.
“I was a coward. After we lost the baby, I didn’t know how to handle the grief, so I ran away from it.
I threw myself into work and told myself I was being productive when really I was just hiding.
And you were grieving too, but you didn’t have anywhere to run because you had Ivy and the house and all the responsibilities I kept shirking.
I left you to carry everything alone, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. ”
The door opened and a doctor walked in, a woman with gray-streaked hair and kind eyes who I vaguely recognized from my previous visits.
“Mrs. Kerrington. Good to see you awake. How are you feeling?”
“Exhausted,” I admitted. “And a little dizzy.”
“That’s to be expected. Your blood pressure was quite low when you came in. We’ve got you on fluids and we’re monitoring the baby, and so far everything looks stable.”
“The baby’s okay?”
“The baby’s fine.” The doctor smiled. “Strong heartbeat, no signs of distress. But this is a high-risk pregnancy, and your body is telling you it needs rest. Real rest, not just taking it easy. You need to minimize stress, get plenty of sleep, and let someone else handle the day-to-day logistics for a while.”
Killian straightened in his chair. “I’ll take care of her. Whatever she needs, I’ll handle it.”
“That’s good to hear.” The doctor made a note on her tablet. “I want to keep you overnight for observation, Mrs. Kerrington. If everything looks good in the morning, you can go home. But I mean it about the rest. No more passing out on the floor.”
“I’ll try to avoid that.”
“Good. I’ll check on you again in a few hours.”
She left, and we were alone again.
Killian reached out and took my hand, his thumb tracing circles on my palm.
“I’m so fucking scared,” he said quietly. “And so fucking glad. Both at the same time.”
“Me too.”
“We’re going to have another baby.”
“If everything goes well. There’s still risk.”
“Then we’ll handle the risk together. No more carrying things alone. Not you, not me. Whatever happens, we face it side by side.”
“That sounds good.” I let my head fall back against the pillow. “That sounds really good.”
“You’re staying at the house. Nobody is going back to that cabin, and I want you near my parents in case something happens. Sully can help me set up a comfortable space on the first floor so you don’t have to do stairs.”
“You’ve already got a plan.”
“I’ve had hours to think about nothing but plans. It’s what my brain does when I’m terrified.”
I reached up and carded my fingers through his hair. It was messy and unwashed and I didn’t care.
“I didn’t tell you,” I said, “because I couldn’t survive you being distant through another loss. I couldn’t watch you disappear into work while I fell apart alone. So I kept it secret, and I told myself it was self-protection, but really it was just fear.”
He nodded, his eyes closing at my touch. “I know. I earned that fear. Every day I wasn’t present, every night I came home late, I was teaching you that you couldn’t count on me. And now you believe it.”
“I want to believe something different.”
“Then give me the chance to show you.” He opened his eyes. “I’m not disappearing back to work. I’m going to be here, every day, until you’re sick of me.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything.” He pulled out his phone and dialed a number, putting it on speaker so I could hear.
“Hello?” A voice I recognized as his CFO.
“David. I’m taking indefinite leave, effective immediately.”
“What? Killian, we have the board meeting next week, and the Seoul team needs-”
“I don’t care. Handle it. Delegate. Do whatever you need to do. I’m not available for the foreseeable future.”
“This is unprecedented. You’ve never taken more than a few days off.”
“Then it’s long overdue.” Killian’s eyes never left mine. “My wife needs me. My family needs me. Everything else can wait.”
“But-”
“I mean it, David. Don’t call me. Don’t email me. Don’t contact me unless the building is literally on fire and you need my authorization to call the fire department. I’m out.”
He hung up before David could respond.
“There,” he said. “It’s done. I’m officially on vacation.”
I stared at him, trying to process what had just happened. Killian Kerrington, workaholic extraordinaire, had just told his company to leave him alone indefinitely. For me. For our baby. For the family he’d been neglecting.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“Don’t thank me. This is the bare minimum. This is what I should have been doing all along.”
“It’s a start.”
“Then let me keep starting,” he said. “Every day, until you believe I’m here for good.”
I believed him. For the first time in a long time, looking into his eyes, I believed that he meant every word.