Chapter 32
Thirty-Two
Astrid
My mind took off with all the things that could go wrong of course. A dress mishap, or wine spilling down my cleavage and everyone laughing at me, or Tristan suddenly turning into a massive jerk straight from my nightmares.
Half expecting posters plastered on the walls, I was pleasantly surprised to find there were in fact no posters anywhere, only ornate wallpaper, elegant sconces, and servers roaming around with flutes of champagne.
Welp, one fear wiped away at least.
I clung to Tristan's arm as a few heads turned our way, but not that many, and certainly no one I recognized. Good? The longer I could put it off the better, although it would be smarter to get it over with, right?
But I was not in my right head tonight. Not walking into my potential torture chamber, not with Tristan Hawthorne beside me, and not with a baby growing inside me.
My world had turned upside down, and I was a complete mess figuring out how to process it all. Dragging Tristan to one side of the room, I needed to get my bearings, wanted to look around and see what all I had to deal with tonight.
Scanning the room, I studied each and every face, but didn't see anyone familiar. What a relief.
Tonight was about all of the alumni, not just from my year, so it made sense that there would be a ton of people I didn't know.
Tristan stood beside me, still with my hand tucked into his side, solid, reassuring with just his mere presence, even though he didn't say anything while I worked on my courage.
A server paused in front of us, holding her tray out. I started to grab a glass of the bubbly to help calm me, but then remembered. No alcohol.
Damn it.
"We're good. Thanks though," Tristan told her. Once she moved on, Tristan said in a low voice just for me, "In solidarity, I won't be drinking either while you're pregnant."
I swallowed. That was sweet. "I appreciate that, but you don't have to."
"I want to. And I'll be avoiding sushi, brie, no—"
"Wait, what?" I stared up at him. "Why are you avoiding brie?"
"Because you have to."
"I do?" The doctor had mentioned alcohol and sushi, but I couldn't remember anything about brie. "How do you know that?"
"I've been doing the research. Anything not pasteurized could be bad for the baby."
Sudden guilt washed over me because I hadn't even thought of doing any research like that. My brain took off as I tried to think back over everything I'd consumed since the winter ball, trying to remember if I'd had any brie. I'd certainly had some alcohol here and there.
Oh, God, I was already a horrible mom, just thinking about myself all the time as usual and not this poor baby growing inside me.
"Hey, hey," he repeated when I didn't look at him. "What are you thinking about?"
"Oh, you know, just going over every little thing I've done wrong since we slept together, everything I've eaten, every drop of alcohol, every..."
Placing his hands on my shoulders, he turned my body so I faced him fully. "The doctor already said not to worry about it, that anything you did before you knew you were pregnant was unlikely to have caused any harm. Remember?"
She'd been very reassuring, saying it was quite common for that to happen. But God, I couldn't recall the many, many specifics she'd gone over, my head swimming in shock, and I probably missed incredibly important information.
What if I couldn't remember something absolutely crucial? What if because I was a complete idiot I unintentionally hurt this baby?
Tristan's eyes made a path around my face. "You're spiraling, aren't you?" Before I could respond, he answered for me. "Yes. Yes, you are. But let me just remind you that no matter what happens, we're a team here. And we'll get through everything together, with me right by your side."
Gulp. Did he really just say that?
"Okay?" he asked, his intense stare burning into me, searing me straight down to my soul. "Do you hear me? I'm not leaving you to deal with all of this alone."
Oh, God. I thought I might cry not just from the stress of it all, from this night, from my life, but also from his words and the kind way he said them.
His phone made a noise in his pocket, but he ignored it only for the sound to become more and more insistent. Heaving a sigh, he reached for it, the corners of his mouth pulling down in a frown as he studied the number for a long moment.
"Who is it?" I asked, dread filling my stomach that it was some kind of bad news, judging by his reaction.
Finally, he seemed to come to a decision about answering it, shutting it off and shoving his phone back in his pocket.
"Who is it?" he repeated my question to me, the expression on his face inscrutable. "I don't know. Why don't you tell me?"
"What?" I shook my head in confusion. Why would I know who had called him? "What do you mean?"
There was a strange gleam in his eyes that I couldn't place. Was he mad? Amused? A mixture of both?
He leaned in closer, so close I could feel the faint scrape of his stubble against my cheek as his breath tickled my ear. And then he said in a low voice only for me, "You wouldn't happen to want to go on a cruise with me, an exclusive cruise only for adventurous couples?"
"Adventurous couples?" I whispered, echoing back his words, even more confused now. "I have no clue what you're talking about, Tristan."
Pulling away from me, he arched a brow in my direction, looking damn sexy as he did so. "No clue, huh?"
"No clue. You... you seriously want to go on a cruise right now? With me pregnant? It, well, it kind of sounds like a bad idea."
He barked out a laugh. "No, babe, no cruise. And either you're a phenomenal actress or—"
Dawning washed over me. Oh, crap.
Biting my lip, I carefully studied his face, looking for any signs of anger, but thankfully, I didn't see any, only a single brow that rose even higher.
"Um, yeah, about that," I said sheepishly.
"Yes?" he drawled out. "Anything you might like to confess?"
"Uh, well, honestly, that was all Ethan's doing."
He grunted, a sound that conveyed a fair amount of skepticism. "Ethan, huh?"
"Yes, Ethan. He's the tech genius who put you on a bunch of robocall lists."
Clamping his lips together, he gave a nod, his eyes still shining with what I realized was pure amusement. "Under whose direction?"
Enduring his intense scrutiny, I worked to find my backbone and finally grabbed a hold of it. "Mine." And now my brow arched at him because two could play the brow game. "And I'm sure you can figure out why."
"Why, Miss Stratton, were you trying to get revenge on me for all my alleged misdeeds?"
"Yes. Abso-fucking-lutely I was."
A laugh came out of him, a genuine laugh that sent a thrill through me. "Well played. Well fucking played. So this whole time I was genuinely falling for this mysterious masked woman, you were just in it for revenge? To get back at me?"
"Yep."
I wasn't ashamed of it, although maybe I should have been.
And maybe that said something about how comfortable I felt being around him.
As a matter of fact, I was very comfortable around him all of a sudden.
And tonight? He was definitely my anchor in this godforsaken sea of potentially horrid memories.
And suddenly, there they were. Preston and Sloane near the entrance. Looking the exact same way they had in high school—gorgeous, perfect in every way, not a hair out of place or a speck of lint on their clothes.
That backbone I'd just reveled in with Tristan? It disappeared in a small, pathetic poof, all those old feelings that I'd supposedly vanquished flooding back with a force that took my breath away and threatened to drown me.
"Everything okay?" Tristan asked.
When I didn't answer, I felt his eyes on my face, and he must have followed my line of sight because an understanding "Ahh" came out of his mouth.
Willing my heart to slow down—that couldn't be good for the baby, could it?—I watched with dread as they stepped inside the space, both of them sipping on champagne already, glancing around the room, sharp and deliberate, like hawks searching for their prey.
Oh, fuck. I was the prey, right? I always had been before, and according to my sister, people were incapable of change.
Ice filled my soul, all the worse because in the ten years since high school, I'd deluded myself into thinking I was over it, that I'd therapy'd the awful feelings out of me, that I'd handled it, dealt with it, and moved on.
But clearly, I hadn't. Or I wouldn't have been chilled to the bone at the mere sight of them.
A hand grasped mine—strong, solid, warm—then squeezed.
"Baby, you've got this."
Tristan's voice cut through the noise of my fear. And it hit me then that this was what mattered, this feeling, this support, the thing that Aria had mentioned in that supply closet, the possibility of it existing for me what had propelled her to tell Tristan about the doctor appointment.
But before I could fully grasp onto that fragmented thought, two sets of eyes across the room landed on me, and every coherent thought in my head fled when I knew I'd been spotted.
Fuck. Fuck me.
And they made a beeline right for us, instinct making me glance behind me for an escape route.
This moment was about to happen, whether I wanted it to or not, and I had two choices here... I could run. Or I could face it head-on.
That hand grasping mine squeezed tighter, infusing strength in me, something I didn't think was possible. And I suddenly knew what I had to do, what that wounded fat girl inside me needed. I wouldn't ignore her anymore.
She wasn't less than. She wasn't undeserving of a normal life. She shouldn't be treated any differently because of a number on a scale.
And goddamnit, I was ready to do battle for her.
They finally reached us, standing right in front of me, eyes searching, taking in everything, my outfit, my shoes, my hand still clasped in Tristan's.