Chapter 28
Twenty-Eight
Tristan
Rushing down Park Avenue, I moved faster than the crawling traffic, reinforcing my choice to run, the words of the anonymous text I'd received flashing like a neon sign in my head.
In the middle of a meeting with my lawyer and Tomás, I wasn't even sure what I'd said to them, dropping everything when I'd received such an ominous message.
Luma women's wellness. Women's wellness. What could that mean?
If it was an emergency, surely she'd be at a hospital, not a clinic like this. So I could rule that out.
Was she sick? Ill?
Women's wellness.
Holy fuck, was she... was she...?
No. That couldn't be it.
But why else would I need to be there? Anything else wouldn't really involve me directly.
Of course, if she was sick, injured, or ill, I wanted to be there for her. Of course. But would she want me there?
Probably not. Especially since I hadn't heard a single word from her since my big confession. The woman obviously hated me, despised me, wanted nothing to do with me anymore.
And a smarter, wiser man would just give up.
But I couldn't do that. Not yet.
And now this?
985 Park Avenue. Three more blocks.
Despite the cool weather, I began sweating like crazy, my heart pounding, my lungs heaving. I was already late. Goddamn it.
This fucking city. Couldn't drive. Couldn't walk.
The only thing to do was keep on running. Harder. Faster.
Ten minutes late now. Fuck.
I prayed I wasn't too late. I had to see her. I needed to see her, needed to know what was going on.
Shit.
Finally, I skidded to a stop at 985 Park, an upscale prewar building with black and platinum trim that screamed money and privacy. There was no way I'd go unnoticed walking into this building.
Pushing through the revolving door, I entered the marble-tiled lobby, a doorman behind a desk looking up sharply.
"Luma Women's Wellness?" I asked, a bit breathless.
After a moment of scrutiny, his features relaxed, and he gave me a nod, pointing at the elevators. "Sixth floor, suite 604, Mr. Hawthorne."
For once, I was grateful to be recognized. Maybe my dad's reputation hadn't totally ruined me after all.
The elevator took forever, my finger jabbing the buttons again and again like that would help. Thankfully, there was no one else around to witness my panicked vibes.
My stomach twisted in knots, I waited impatiently until I made it to the sixth floor, stepping out into a hushed, carpeted hallway, its calming neutral colors doing nothing to help my anxiety. There was soft spa music drifting from the end of the hall where Luma Women's Wellness was located.
I threw open the door and strode straight to the reception desk, wondering how I'd get past this next hurdle.
The woman behind the counter glanced up, her eyes widening as she studied me. "Good afternoon, how can I help you?"
"I'm here for Astrid Stratton. She's in room four. Sorry. I'm a little late."
After a slight pause, while I wondered if she could hear the frantic pace of my heart, she nodded slightly, the locked door clicking open for me. "Last door on the right," she said.
I was already through the entrance before she finished her sentence, rushing past the first few rooms until I came upon room four.
And now that I was here, I hesitated a beat. What on earth would I find inside?
Taking a deep breath, it was now or never.
With a light knock, I slowly pushed the door open.
And there she was. Astrid. Lying back on an exam table, her shirt lifted, gel on her stomach, and a technician holding a wand over her skin, a screen glowing next to them in the dim room.
Astrid's head snapped toward me, her mouth opening in shock.
I froze in the doorway, hoping the room would stop spinning.
Jesus Christ.
The only sound in the room... a soft, rhythmic thump.
My eyes drawn to the screen, there was a small, grainy image there, flickering in black and white.
My breath caught. My heart stopped. Then slammed into gear.
That was an ultrasound.
That was—
I looked at Astrid's face. Then back at the screen.
Tiny. Blurry. But unmistakable.
A heartbeat.
A baby.
No. No, it couldn't be.
Stepping forward, my legs carrying me on autopilot, I felt like I was moving through water. I finally reached her side, my eyes darting back and forth between her and the screen, until they finally settled on the beautiful woman beside me.
"Astrid," I said. "Is that...?"
She looked at the image again, before nodding once, so slightly I almost missed it. Then she whispered, "Yes."
Her eyes shone with emotion, heavy, life-changing, stunned like she was still trying to make sense of it herself.
I didn't know what to say. I didn't know how to breathe.
And I had no idea what came next.
But I knew I would never walk away from her, from this child, from this situation. They were mine now. I just had to convince her.