Chapter 23 Tessa
TESSA
I'd never been so grateful for Frank Delgado's existence.
Mom's boyfriend had booked them a room at the Palmer House downtown, insisting my apartment was too small for three people and he didn't want to impose.
What he didn't know—what Mom thankfully didn't know—was that Lucian had been slipping into my bed three or four nights a week for the past month, claiming we needed to maximize our chances of conception.
Not that I was complaining.
Those stolen hours had become the brightest part of my increasingly complicated life.
He'd arrive after midnight when the building was quiet, disappearing before dawn.
We'd have sex like horny teenagers while getting almost no sleep, then lie tangled together while he asked about my day and made sure I was taking good care of my health—in case I conceived, he said.
It was sweet, the way he cared. And I'd almost have thought he was falling for me, except that he always turned it toward business at some point.
He was teaching me things about deal structure and market analysis that I'd never learned as his assistant, treating me as if I had a brain worth engaging.
My heart was getting dangerously attached to these nights, but I couldn't bring myself to pull away.
Even knowing it would all end when I got pregnant—when the physical need that brought him to my door was satisfied—I treasured every moment of intimacy.
The irony wasn't lost on me that I was falling deeper in love with a man whose child I hoped to carry, while he remained carefully distant about anything resembling real feelings.
Friday morning found me hustling Mom and Frank toward Lou Mitchell's for breakfast, my stomach churning with anxiety about getting through the weekend without revealing too much.
The restaurant's heavy grease smell hit me the moment we walked in, and I had to grip the hostess stand to keep from doubling over.
"You okay, sweetheart?" Frank asked, his weathered face creased with concern.
"Fine. Just hungry." I managed a smile as we were seated in a booth by the window, the morning light streaming across red vinyl and chrome fixtures.
Mom immediately launched into her usual interrogation about my social life, and I suffered her politely because I knew she wouldn’t be around forever.
Besides, I missed her and having her here in town was special. I didn't want to upset her so I listened as she said, "So, tell me about this mysterious boyfriend you want to keep such a big secret. I read some rumors online…"
My blood turned to ice. "What?"
"Oh, you know how these gossip blogs are.
" She waved her hand dismissively while studying the menu.
"Always speculating about successful young women and their romantic lives.
I saw something about your boss having a secret romance with someone at the company.
" When she looked up at me she wagged her eyebrows. "Is it you?"
Frank cleared his throat, shooting her a warning look. "Margaret, maybe we should focus on what we're ordering."
But Mom had never been one to let a topic go once she'd latched onto it. "I'm just saying, if there really is someone special, I'd love to meet him. You're twenty-six, Tessie. Most girls your age are at least engaged by now."
The familiar lecture made my chest tighten. If only she knew how complicated my situation had become, how the man I was falling for was twice my age, my boss, and completely unavailable for the traditional relationship she envisioned.
"I'm focused on my career right now," I said, the same response I'd given her a hundred times before.
"Career won't give me grandchildren, baby. I'm getting old." Her voice softened with the plea that always made my heart ache. "I'd like to see them grow up, you know?"
Nausea rolled through me, the way it had earlier this week, but stronger this time, and I pressed my hand to my stomach. Maybe I was getting sick.
The stress of keeping secrets, the constant anxiety about discovery, the physical exhaustion of stolen nights with Lucian—it was all catching up with me.
"Actually," I found myself saying, "I've been thinking about having a baby. Maybe through IVF."
The words seemed to zap the air between us, and I immediately regretted them. Mom's eyes widened with a mixture of shock and concern, while Frank looked uncomfortable with the intimate turn our conversation had taken.
"By yourself?" Mom's voice was careful, but I could hear the judgment underneath. "Tessie, that's so expensive, and raising a child alone—"
Another wave of nausea rose, and I had to cut her off. "Sorry, Mom, but I have to pee… I'll be right back," I choked out, and then I rose and bolted from the booth toward the restroom.
I barely made it to a stall before my stomach rebelled, though nothing came up except bile. Gripping the cold metal walls, I tried to steady my breathing and figure out what was wrong with me.
At first I ran through the symptoms—fatigue, restlessness, nausea—then I counted the days of my cycle and felt confused.
When I emerged from the stall, my reflection in the bathroom mirror looked pale and shaken. I splashed cold water on my face, letting the coolness ground me.
The fluorescent lighting was harsh and unflattering, but there was something different about my face.
A fullness that had developed for a few weeks which I thought was due to water retention in my approaching period.
As I stood there staring at myself, a thought crept in that I immediately tried to push away. When was the last time I'd had my period?
We'd been so caught up in our nightly routine, in the intensity of our connection, that I hadn't been tracking the usual rhythms of my body.
But now, doing the math in my head, I realized I was at least a week late.
I felt a stupid grin crossing my face as I touched my belly and shook my head. It couldn’t be true already, could it?
We'd decided in August that we'd do this just the two of us, and it now being October, it meant it had only taken a month—if it was true.
I washed my face and straightened my shirt, but when I stepped out of the bathroom, Frank was standing there looking worried.
"Sorry to invade your space," he said quietly. "Your mom sent me to check on you, but I wanted to apologize first. She doesn't mean to be so pushy about your personal life. She just worries about you up here all alone."
His kindness, so unexpected and gentle, made my heart squeeze. He was so perfect for her, and it made me wish Lucian were here to be a sounding board for my thoughts.
Tears spilled over before I could stop them, and suddenly, I was sobbing against the chest of a man I barely knew while he rubbed my back with paternal comfort.
"Hey, it's okay," he murmured. "Whatever's going on, it's going to be fine."
But it wasn't going to be fine. I was in love with a man who saw me as a convenient arrangement.
I was probably pregnant with his child while hiding from gossip blogs that could destroy both our careers.
My mother was visiting, asking innocent questions that could unravel everything if she connected the wrong dots.
And I was crying in a restaurant because Frank Delgado had been kind to me.
I never cried. Ever. I was the woman who handled crises at work without flinching, who managed Lucian's impossible schedule like a pro, who'd built walls around my heart to protect it from exactly this situation.
"I think I might be pregnant," I whispered, the words escaping before I could stop them.
Frank's hand stilled on my back, but he didn't pull away or ask questions I couldn't answer. "Is that a good thing or a scary thing?"
"Both." I wiped my eyes with a paper towel, trying to compose myself. "Definitely both."
"The father?" he asked gently.
"It's complicated."
He nodded as if that explained everything. "Most important things are."
We stood there for a moment before I managed to pull myself together. "Please don't tell Mom. Not until I know for sure."
"Your secret's safe with me." He squeezed my shoulder. "But Tessa? Whatever happens, you're stronger than you think. Your mom talks about you constantly—how proud she is, how hard you work. You'll figure this out."
The rest of breakfast passed in a blur.
Mom chatted about the heat in Florida and her plans for decorating their new condo while Frank steered conversations away from anything too personal.
I picked at my eggs, my mind racing with worries and concerns.
By evening, I was exhausted from pretending everything was normal.
We'd spent the day wandering through Millennium Park and the Art Institute, Mom exclaiming over every detail while I tried to focus on being a good hostess.
But the nausea kept returning in waves, and the emotional volatility I'd shown in the bathroom lingered under my careful composure.
"Let's go shopping," Mom announced as we finished dinner at a cozy Italian place in Little Italy. "I want to buy some proper Chicago winter clothes before we head back to Florida because I'm coming to visit around Christmas this time. And I need to be prepared."
The mall felt overwhelming—bright lights and crowds and the constant hum of activity.
Mom dragged us through department stores, trying on sweaters and coats while Frank offered commentary on colors and styles. I followed behind them, my mind elsewhere, until I spotted a small pharmacy tucked between a jewelry store and a phone repair shop.
"I need to use the bathroom," I announced suddenly.
"There's one right by the food court," Mom said, holding up a burgundy cardigan for Frank's approval.
"This one's closer." I was already walking away before she could argue.
My hands shook as I grabbed a pregnancy test from the shelf, and the cashier, a bored teenager with purple hair, barely looked at me as she rang up my purchase.
The bathroom was mercifully empty. I locked myself in the farthest stall and read the instructions three times before following them with trembling fingers.
Then I sat on the toilet seat, staring at the little plastic indicator, and waited for my life to change.
Two minutes felt eternal. When the second line appeared—faint but unmistakable—I covered my face to stop myself from squealing—or puking.
I was pregnant with Lucian Cross's baby.
The tears came again, but these were different. Joy and terror mingled together, creating an emotional storm I couldn't navigate.
I pressed my hand to my stomach, marveling at the tiny life growing there.
Our child.
The baby we'd created together in stolen moments between his business trips and board meetings.
Part of me wanted to call him immediately, to share this miraculous news that would change everything between us.
But another part—the practical part that had kept me alive in corporate politics—knew this wasn't a conversation for phone calls or text messages.
I pulled out my phone, anyway, typing carefully.
Tessa 7:15 PM: When you have a chance, I need to talk to you about something personal. Nothing urgent, but important.
The response came within minutes.
Lucian 7:18 PM: Everything okay?
Tessa 7:15 PM: Yes. Better than okay. Just need to see you when your schedule allows.
I tucked the test into my purse and splashed cold water on my face again, trying to look normal when I rejoined Mom and Frank.
But as I opened the bathroom door, I found Mom standing there with worry written across her features.
"Tessie? You've been gone for twenty minutes. I was starting to worry."
My heart hammered against my ribs as I wondered what she'd seen, what she suspected.
But I managed a smile and took her arm. "Sorry. Long line. Did you find anything you liked?"
She looked up at me with confusion and concern etched on her brow, but I led her out of the bathroom, quietly tossing my evidence in the trash bin on the way past and keeping her chatting about cardigans so she didn't see what I was throwing away.
I had to remind myself that I wanted this. The baby, being a mother, having it be Lucian's baby simply so it would save me fifty grand on the IVF.
So how could I tell him I had what I wanted now and that I didn't need to keep having sex with him?
And how would I survive walking into work every day now if it destroyed me? Because I felt like it was going to destroy me.
There was no way he'd want to keep having sex with me anymore.
The stakes at the company were too high and Viktoria's angry meddling was making it too risky.