Chapter 23 - Pippa
As we pulled up to the sprawling Ustinov estate, I let out a sigh. It was a sigh that spoke volumes—how I never imagined being back here, how good it felt, how confusing and relieving it was to see Abe come to my rescue.
The iron gates swung open, and Abe guided the sleek black SUV up the winding driveway. My eyes drank in the fortress of safety after the hellish day I'd endured.
"We're here." Abe parked smoothly in front of the grand entrance.
I nodded weakly, my limbs feeling like lead as I fumbled with the seatbelt. Before I could open the door, Abe was there, offering his hand. I took it gratefully, my legs wobbling as I stepped out.
"Easy there, Pip," he murmured, steadying me with a firm grip on my elbow.
His pet name for me, Pip, sent a flutter through my chest despite my exhaustion. I smoothed down my rumpled blouse, suddenly aware of how disheveled I must look.
Then I chided myself for caring.
Abe guided me inside to safety. The tension in my shoulders began to ease, replaced by bone-deep weariness.
"You need to rest," Abe said, his tone brooking no argument as he steered me toward my old bedroom.
"I'm fine," I protested weakly, even as my body sank gratefully into the bed.
Abe raised an eyebrow. "Pippa, you look ready to keel over. Let me take care of you for once, da?"
I bit back a retort, too tired to argue. Abe disappeared for a while, returning with a soft throw blanket and a maid who carried with her a tray. He draped the blanket over me with surprising gentleness for such a formidable man, then had the tray put beside me before dismissing the maid.
"Tea?" he asked, hovering near me with an almost endearing awkwardness.
I nodded, touched by his attentiveness. "That would be lovely, thank you."
As Abe busied himself with the tea service, I closed my eyes, letting the feeling of this bed wash over me. For the first time today, I felt like I could breathe again.
As I sank deeper into the bed, my mind whirled with everything that had happened over the past few days. The change in living arrangements, the fight, the kidnapping. I opened my eyes, watching him prepare the tea with meticulous care.
"You're staring," Abe said, a hint of amusement in his voice as he passed me the tea.
I felt heat rise to my cheeks. "Just… lost in thought."
He sat on the bed beside me, his face suddenly level with mine. "What troubles you?" His hand reached out, brushing a stray curl from my forehead. The tender gesture made my breath catch.
How could I tell him the truth behind what troubled me? How could I tell him that I wished he loved me? That if I slipped up, I’d never be able to leave. How could I tell him about the dreadful nights I’ve cried myself to sleep since I left here, missing him with every fiber in my body?
So instead, I lied. "It's nothing," my fingers instinctively curled around the warmth of the teacup. "I'm just tired. Today was terrifying."
The memories rushed back. How that man grabbed my leg and pulled me back down with such force off the fire escape that I thought he’d let me fall to my death. How he punched me when I fought back. How I stopped fighting back in fear he’d kick my stomach and I could lose my child?
In that moment, I was reliving the past events and I felt as though I was being kidnapped all over again. My hands trembled so hard and I heard Abe rush to reach for the cup as the pain in my chest grew worse. I struggled for air, gasping.
“Shh,” Abe said, his hands gently caressing my hair. “Shh. You’re safe, Pip.”
There were a million things I shouldn’t have done, but I turned to him wide-eyed, terrified, and begged him to not leave me alone tonight.
Abe’s expression softened. Quietly, without saying a word, he put down the cup and walked to the other side of the bed, getting in. He laid out an arm on the bedrest behind us, giving me an opening.
I scuttled over. I needed touch. I needed comfort. I needed sleep. And I hadn’t slept much without him. I nestled into his chest as the tears fell down my face.
"You're not alone, Pip. I'm right here," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm to my frayed nerves. “You just get some rest now. I’m not going anywhere.”
I clung to him as tears pricked my eyes, unable to contain the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me. How good it felt to be in his arms again, how wrong it felt to enjoy this. I cried myself to sleep and he just held me, never asking for more than I could give.
***
The next morning, I woke to the sound of the door banging shut. I sat up with a gasp, thinking I was in danger. To my surprise, it was Abe with a sheepish look on his face, his arms heavy with a laden tray.
“Sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean to kick it close that hard.”
He moved his forearms, showing his hands were busy.
I nodded and pulled the covers up tighter, realizing he’d brought me breakfast in bed.
“I thought you’d be hungry,” he said, and put the tray on the bed beside me.
“My god,” I said, looking at it. “You cooked for a dozen?”
There was coffee, croissants, a bowl of fruits, eggs of three different kinds, pancakes, toast, a smoothie bowl, hummus, crackers, cheese, honey, and was that… quiche and a sausage bun?
It was the strangest, most eclectic breakfast I’d ever seen. I couldn’t help the giggle from escaping my lips.
Immediately, my eyes reached for his, which looked surprised at my expression of joy. Suddenly, I felt guilty for putting him in this spot. For grasping for little signs of approval.
“Come,” I said, patting the empty space on the bed. “I couldn’t eat all this alone and after all the fighting you did yesterday, you must be famished too.”
Abe's lips twitched, and he settled on the bed beside me, creating a comfortable space between us. I poured two cups of coffee, passing him one with a smile. Then, I realized I shouldn’t drink the coffee. I was pregnant.
I was pregnant and he didn’t know. How long could I keep up this charade?
A strange silence fell over us for a while, yet none of us moved to touch the food.
At last, Abe’s large hand enveloped mine. "Pippa," he said softly, "you should move back in. Please, trust me."
The intimacy of the moment, his unexpected gentleness, made my resolve waver. I wanted to tell him everything, to share this burden. But fear held me back. What if he was only doing all this, offering me our old life back, because he felt guilty?
Guilty about what, Pippa? a small voice counter-argued in my head.
About how he couldn’t tell me what I needed to hear, about how he couldn’t give me what I wanted, about how I got kidnapped when he thought he had the problem solved?
But don’t you have anything to feel guilty about, Pippa? That voice came back, sharper than before. You’re carrying his child, and you’ve already decided on a future without him—without even giving him a chance to choose. You heard Emory and Adley, telling you he’s suffering, yet you’re still choosing to believe what you want, not what his own family has told you: that he cares for you. You saw it when he rescued you—the relief on his face, the joy at seeing you safe.
I groaned and put my head in my hands, utterly exhausted.
“Pippa?” Abe asked, worried as he leaned over and gently held my hand.
God. I was so done with this battle I had raging in my head. I was so done choosing for us. This was no way to live, second-guessing myself every step of the way. Perhaps I needed to let go of all expectations and lay my heart bare. Whatever might happen, would happen.
Fate, as they say, chooses its own path.
And right now, I needed to let go. This was it, my one shot to see if Abe truly didn’t know how to tell me how he felt, or if he really didn’t give a damn.
He deserved the truth about everything, starting with the baby, and then I’d never be left reeling this way again. Then, I’d know, for sure.
At this moment, I realized that knowing would always be better than holding on to the what-ifs, better than all this self-doubt.
I sat up, feeling incredibly brave, and looked at the man who would decide what my future would hold. And for the first time ever, I felt no fear.
"Abe, I…" I started, then faltered. My mind raced. Pregnant. I'm pregnant. Two simple words that would change everything. My courage wavered.
"What is it?" he prompted gently, his brows furrowed with worry.
I bit my lip, buying time. How would he react? Would he be angry? Excited? Indifferent? The uncertainty was paralyzing.
Yet, so was not knowing.
I took a deep breath, my heart pounding so hard I was sure Abe could hear it. My secret pressed down on me, demanding to be released. I couldn't keep this from him any longer.
"Abe, there's something I need to tell you," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I forced myself to meet his eyes. "I'm… I'm pregnant."
The words hung in the air between us, heavy and irreversible. My eyes remained glued to his, and I watched his pupils blast open just as shock rippled across his face. His grip on my hand tightened almost painfully.
"Pregnant?" he repeated, his voice hoarse. "You're sure?"
I nodded, unable to look away from the tumult of emotions playing across his features. Shock gave way to disbelief, then a flicker of something that looked almost like… hope? Or was I imagining things? Projecting my own hope onto him?
Abe nodded slowly as though registering what I said now, his eyes never leaving mine. I could almost see the gears turning in his head, processing this new reality.
"And the baby… it's…" he started, then swallowed hard.
"Yours," I finished for him, my voice stronger now. "There's no question about that."
He let go of my hand and raked through his hair. "How long have you known?" he asked, his tone carefully controlled.
"Not long," I admitted, feeling a lump form in my throat. "I found out just before… you told me you had killed the guy from the casino. I didn’t know whether I should…" I trailed off, gesturing helplessly.
I held my breath, studying Abe's face for any clue to his thoughts. The ticking of a nearby clock seemed deafening in the quiet room.
Finally, Abe broke the silence, his voice husky and raw as he rubbed a hand over his stubble. "Christ, Pippa," he muttered, shaking his head. "I don’t even know what to say. I’m not… I’ve never…" His words faltered, and he exhaled sharply, frustrated. "I’m not exactly father material, am I? The things I’ve done, the life I lead…"
I felt my heart clench at the hurt and confusion in his tone. To see him so unsettled was jarring.
"I didn't plan this either, Abe," I said softly. "But it's happening, and I thought you deserved to know. I know it's not ideal," I tried to reassure him. “And I won’t pressure you to be a part of this journey. You’re free to do as you wish. I can raise this baby just fine on my own. You’re not obliged to hold my hand through this.”
Abe's gaze snapped up to mine, his eyes dark with anger. "Pressure me? Obliged?" he said, his voice cruel to the ear. "Pippa, do you really think that's what this is about?"
I shifted uncomfortably under the intensity of his stare. “Are you angry about something?”
He raised his brows and looked at me like I was daft. “Of course I’m fucking angry,” he said in a louder-than-usual tone. “But more than that, I’m fucking hurt.”