Chapter 27
twenty-seven
. . .
Jake
I wake up to Natalie wrapped around me like a vine.
Her head is on my chest, one leg thrown over mine, her hand resting on my stomach. She’s completely dead to the world, breathing deep and even, her dark hair spilling across my shoulder.
This has become our routine for the last few weeks. We haven’t talked about what this means or what we’re doing. We’re just…doing it.
I press a kiss to the top of her head, careful not to wake her, and she shifts slightly, burrowing closer. The morning light filters through her curtains, soft and golden. It’s New Year’s Eve. The last day of a year that changed everything.
Carefully, I extract myself from her grip, replacing my body with a pillow that she immediately hugs. I pull on my jeans and head to her kitchen.
Eggs, toast, fresh fruit. I plate everything and carry it back to the bedroom, setting the tray on her nightstand.
“Nat,” I say softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Wake up.”
She makes a grumbling sound and burrows deeper into the pillow.
“I made breakfast.”
Both eyes open now. She sits up slowly, her hair a mess. She’s wearing another one of my T-shirts, and the sight of her in my clothes makes me want to rip them off her. Honestly, at this point half her wardrobe is my shirts, and I don’t hate it.
She takes the plate I offer, and we eat together in her bed, the morning stretching out lazy and comfortable around us.
“So,” I say, setting my empty plate aside. “Tonight is the Hays & Cole New Year’s Eve party. I was wondering if you’d want to go with me.”
She pauses mid-bite, her fork hovering in the air. “To your office party?”
“Technically it’s your dad’s office party. But yeah.” I reach over, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I want to take you out. Ring in the new year together. It’s going to be a big year for us.”
She sets her fork down, her fingers playing with the edge of the blanket. “Jake—”
“Plus, it’s just the firm. Most people there already know about the baby, or they won’t care. You don’t have to hide.”
She’s quiet, her eyes fixed on her plate. I can see the wheels turning, the hesitation written all over her face.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” I add gently. “No pressure.”
“Okay,” she says finally, her voice soft.
Relief floods through me. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
The smile that breaks across my face is probably ridiculous, but I don’t care. I pull her closer, kissing her forehead.
Later that evening, I’m in Natalie’s living room, adjusting my tie and trying not to pace. She’s been in her bedroom for the past hour getting ready, and I’m equal parts excited and nervous.
This is our first real date. Our first time going out as…whatever we are. Maybe not quite a couple yet. But something.
“Okay,” she calls from the bedroom. “I’m ready.”
I turn around, and my breath catches.
She’s wearing a dress I’ve never seen before. Deep emerald green, velvet, with long sleeves and a neckline that shows just enough. It hugs her curves, accentuating every line—her shoulders, her breasts, the swell of her hips.
And her belly.
The dress doesn’t hide it. Doesn’t try to. It showcases it, the fabric draped perfectly over the curve where our daughter is growing.
She’s stunning.
“Is it too much?” she asks, a hint of uncertainty in her voice. “I wasn’t sure about the dress, but Blair said—”
“You’re beautiful,” I interrupt. “Nat, you’re absolutely beautiful.”
A blush creeps up her neck. “Thank you.”
Her hair is down in soft waves, dark against the green of the dress. She’s wearing makeup—not a lot, just enough to make her eyes look even more dramatic. And she smells incredible.
But it’s the belly that I can’t stop looking at. The visible proof that she’s carrying our daughter. That in a few months, our entire world is going to change.
“You’re staring,” she says softly.
“I know. I just…” I place my hand gently on her stomach, feeling the firm curve through the velvet. “You’re growing our baby. You’re the mother of my child. And you’re so goddamn beautiful it actually hurts to look at you sometimes.”
Her eyes are shining now. “Jake.”
“I mean it.”
She rises on her toes and kisses me, soft and sweet, and I have to force myself not to suggest we skip the party entirely.
“We should go,” she murmurs against my lips. “Before I change my mind about this dress.”
“The dress is perfect. You’re perfect.”
She laughs, grabbing her clutch from the couch. “You’re biased.”
“Completely.”
The party is at a hotel ballroom in downtown LA, all twinkle lights and champagne flutes and people dressed to impress. The party is legendary. Ryan goes all out, and everyone from the firm shows up.
When we walk in together, I rest my hand on the small of Natalie’s back, and I don’t miss the way several people’s eyes track to her belly before quickly looking away.
We find a table and I get her sparkling cider while I grab a beer. The DJ is playing something upbeat, and couples are already on the dance floor.
“Want to dance?” I ask.
“I do.”
I lead her onto the floor just as the song hits its peak. We move together, her laughing as I spin her carefully, and for a few minutes it’s just fun. Light. Easy.
Then the song ends, and the DJ’s voice comes over the speakers. “All right everyone, let’s slow it down a bit.”
The opening notes of something slower, more romantic, fill the room. Couples around us shift, pulling each other closer.
I offer Natalie my hand. “One more?”
She smiles and takes my hand. I pull her in close, one hand settling on her waist, the other cradling her hand against my chest. She fits perfectly against me, her free hand resting on my shoulder.
We sway together, barely moving, and I’m hyper-aware of every point of contact.
The warmth of her palm through my shirt.
The curve of her waist under my hand. The way her belly presses gently against my stomach, a constant reminder of what we’re building together.
Her fingers trace small circles on my shoulder, absent and intimate, and it sends heat straight through me.
I tighten my hold on her waist, pulling her closer, and she doesn’t resist. Her head tilts up, her eyes meeting mine, and there’s something vulnerable in her expression that makes my chest ache.
“This is nice,” she says.
Her hand slides from my shoulder to my chest, her palm resting over my heart. I wonder if she can feel how hard it’s beating.
“Jake,” she says quietly, and there’s something in her voice that makes me hold my breath.
“Yeah?”
She opens her mouth, then closes it. Whatever she was going to say, she’s not ready. I press a kiss to her forehead instead. Her eyes close for a second, and when she opens them again, they’re bright.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “For being patient with me.”
“Always,” I say, and I mean it.
We keep swaying, our bodies moving together like we’ve done this a thousand times. Her fingers trace the buttons of my shirt, a gentle, unconscious gesture that’s driving me insane. I slide my hand lower on her back, right above the curve of her hip, and she shivers.
“Cold?” I murmur.
“No.” Her voice is barely audible. “Definitely not cold.”
The heat in her eyes when she looks up at me nearly undoes me. I want to kiss her. Want to take her home and show her exactly what she does to me. Want to tell her I’m in love with her and I can’t keep pretending this is casual.
I’m snapped back to reality by a glimpse of Ryan and his wife across the room.
“Hey,” I say to Natalie. “I see your dad.”
“Oh good. Where?”
We make our way over, and Ryan’s face lights up when he sees us.
“There you two are!” He pulls Natalie into a hug, careful of her belly, then shakes my hand. “You both look very nice.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
Rachel leans in to hug us both. “Natalie, that dress is stunning. You’re glowing.”
“Thank you.”
“How are you feeling?” she asks Nat. “I remember when I was that far along. Everything hurt.”
“I’m good. Feeling a little swollen, but good.”
“Save me a dance later?” Ryan asks Natalie.
“Of course.”
We chat for a few more minutes before Ryan gets pulled away by someone from accounting. Rachel gives Natalie’s hand a squeeze before excusing herself to find some friends, and Natalie and I are about to head back to the dance floor when she turns and nearly collides with someone.
“Oh! I’m so sorry—” Natalie stops short. “Rebecca.”
I watch as the blood drains from Natalie’s face and she looks as if she’s seen a ghost. I turn to see a woman in her forties in a sleek black dress, standing with a man I vaguely recognize as one of the senior associates.
The women’s eyes widen slightly when she sees Natalie. Specifically, when she sees Natalie’s very pregnant belly in that form-fitting dress.
For a moment, neither of them speaks. The air between them feels charged.
“Natalie,” Rebecca finally says. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I’m here with Jake. He works at the firm.” Natalie gestures to me. “Jake, this is Rebecca Sullivan, my showrunner.”
Oh fuck.
I shake her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too.” Rebecca glances at her date. “This is Mark. He’s a partner here.”
“Nice to meet you both,” Natalie says, her voice steady but tight.
There’s another beat of silence. Rebecca’s eyes flick to Natalie’s stomach again, but she doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t ask.
I feel Natalie go rigid beside me, her whole body tensing like she’s bracing for impact.
Everything in me wants to step in. To pull Natalie behind me, to tell Rebecca that whatever she’s thinking, she can keep it to herself. To shield her from the judgment I can see forming in the other woman’s eyes.
But I can’t. This is Natalie’s career. Her show. Her relationship with her showrunner. All I can do is stand here and watch her crumble, and it’s killing me.
“I know this probably looks—I was going to tell you after the new year, I just wanted to—” Natalie starts.
“Let’s talk when we’re back at work,” Rebecca interrupts smoothly. Her expression is neutral, unreadable. “Enjoy your evening.”
And just like that, she walks away, Mark following.
My hand finds the small of Natalie’s back instinctively, trying to ground her, but she’s already spiraling. I hate this. Hate that I can’t fix it. Hate that all I can do is be here and hope that’s enough.
“Nat—”
“I need to leave.” Her voice is barely above a whisper.
“Okay. Let’s get our coats.”
We make our way toward the exit, but the countdown to midnight is starting. The ballroom erupts in noise—people shouting numbers, glasses clinking, the anticipation building.
“Ten! Nine! Eight!”
I grab our coats from the coat check.
“Seven! Six! Five!”
Natalie’s already at the door, but I catch her hand, pulling her gently to a stop.
“Four! Three!”
“Jake—”
“Two!”
I cup her face, forcing her to look at me.
“One! Happy New Year!”
And I kiss her. Right there in the hotel lobby, with the celebration erupting behind us, I kiss her like she’s mine. Like this year mattered. Like the next one will too.
When I pull back, her eyes are wide, surprised.
“I’ll take you home,” I say quietly. “But I want you to know that I’m grateful you came into my life this year. And I’m excited about being with you in the next one.”
Her eyes shine with tears she won’t let fall. She just nods.
The drive back to her place is quiet. She stares out the window, and I don’t try to coax any conversation out of her.
When I pull up to her bungalow and put the car in park, she finally speaks.
“Will you stay with me tonight?”
“Yes,” I say immediately. Relief floods through me. “Of course I will.”