Chapter 2
Jasmine
The first thing I notice is the beeping. It’s steady, rhythmic and intrusive. Then the hospital smell hits me.
My eyelids feel as though they’re weighted down with sand. I force them open and immediately regret it. Bright light assault my vision, and a dull throb pulses behind my eyes.
“She’s waking up.” The voice is familiar. Deep, accented, and entirely too close.
I shift my head, which turns out to be a mistake. The room tilts, and I squeeze my eyes shut against the wave of nausea.
“Easy, querida. Don’t move too fast.”
Antonio. Of course, it’s Antonio.
When I open my eyes again, he’s right there, sitting in a chair pulled close to my bedside, elbows braced on his knees, eyes locked on my face.
They’re rimmed red, like he’s been crying or hasn’t slept.
His hair is mussed, his Henley wrinkled, and a shadow of stubble darkens his jaw where there was none at dinner.
Beyond him, Jessa is curled in a corner chair, arms wrapped around herself, mascara smudged beneath her eyes. Meesha stands at the window, phone pressed to her ear, speaking in low, urgent tones—probably updating Connor.
How long have I been out?
“What happened?” My voice comes out scratchy.
Jessa is on her feet instantly, rushing to my other side. “Oh, thank God. Jas, you scared us half to death.”
“You were in an accident.” Antonio’s jaw tightens. “Some idiota ran a red light. Hit your car.”
Fragments come back to me. The dinner party. Meesha’s joke. That moment of panic when my eyes met Antonio’s. Running. Driving. The other car running the red light before everything went black.
“The other driver?” I don’t know why I ask.
Antonio’s expression darkens. “He didn’t make it.”
The room seems to tilt again, though I’m lying still. Someone died. A person who made a terrible mistake, and now they’re gone.
“Antonio followed you from the house,” Meesha says, lowering her phone. Her eyes are red. “He called 911. If he hadn’t been there...”
Why had he followed me? I’d left that dinner table specifically to get away from him, his stare and the secret threatening to suffocate me.
“My car?”
“Totaled.” Antonio runs a hand through his hair. “You’re lucky to be alive.”
I try to sit up and immediately abandon the attempt. Everything hurts. My ribs, my shoulder, my head. I lift my hand and find an IV line snaking from my wrist to a bag hanging beside the bed.
“The baby.” The words come out before I can stop them.
The room goes silent. Jessa’s hand freezes on my arm. Meesha’s phone slips in her grip. And Antonio goes completely still.
Before anyone can respond, the door opens, and a woman in a white coat enters, tablet in hand. She’s in her fifties with kind eyes and gray-streaked hair pulled back in a practical bun.
“Ms. Haywood, good to see you awake. I’m Dr. Okonkwo.” She moves to the foot of my bed, checking something on one of the monitors. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I got hit by a truck.”
“SUV, actually, but close enough.” She gives me a sympathetic smile. “You sustained a moderate concussion, some bruising to your ribs, and a sprained wrist. All things considered, you are very fortunate.”
“And my baby?” I feel three pairs of eyes on me. I don’t look at any of them.
Dr. Okonkwo’s expression softens with understanding.
“The baby is perfectly healthy. We did an ultrasound while you were unconscious. Strong heartbeat, no signs of distress.” She pauses.
“You’re about seventeen weeks along, which means the baby is well-protected at this stage.
But I want to keep you overnight for observation, and you’ll need to take it easy for the next couple of weeks. ”
The relief hits so hard I nearly sob. “Thank you.”
She nods, making notes on her tablet. “I’ll be back to check on you in a few hours. Try to rest.” She glances around at the three people crowded around my bed. “Don’t let her get too worked up.”
The door clicks shut behind her, and Jessa speaks first. “You’re four months pregnant, and you didn’t tell us?”
I can’t look at her. Can’t look at any of them.
“Jas.” Meesha moves closer, her expression shifting from shock to hurt. “We talk every day. How could you keep this from us?”
“I was going to tell you.” The words sound weak even to me. “I just... I needed time to figure things out.”
“Figure what out?” Jessa’s hand is still on my arm, but her grip has loosened. “Are you okay? Do you know the gender? Who’s the father?”
Antonio’s stare burns into the side of my face. I sense the tension radiating off him, and the questions building behind his silence.
“It’s a girl.” The only question I can safely answer. “And I’m okay. I just... it’s complicated.”
“I need a minute.” Antonio’s voice is strained. “With Jasmine.”
Meesha turns to him, frowning. “Why?”
“Meesh.” I force myself to smile. “It’s okay. Please.”
She doesn’t look convinced, but Jessa is reaching for her arm. “We’ll get coffee,” Jessa says, and leans down to press a kiss to my forehead. “But we’re talking about this later. All of it.”
The door closes behind them, and then it’s just me, Antonio, and the beep of the heart monitor filling the silence.
“Is it mine?”
I could lie. Could protect myself from whatever comes next. But I’m tired of carrying this weight alone.
“Yes.”
Antonio releases a shaky exhale. “Mine. O bebê é meu.”
I don’t know what I expected. Anger, maybe. Denial. Accusations of trapping him. Instead, he sits there in silence, and I watch the reality of it settle over him.
“I was going to tell you,” I say. “I just... I didn’t know how. And I was scared.”
He looks up at that. “Scared of what?”
Of you not wanting us. Of being an obligation you feel stuck with. Of opening my heart and watching you walk away.
Before I can answer, there’s a knock at the door.
It swings open and Connor backs through it, arms loaded with a brown paper bag and a carrier of drinks.
Meesha slips in beside him, one hand on his arm.
Jaxon follows with a second bag, Jessa tucked close to his side.
Kamal brings up the rear, balancing a stack of takeout containers.
“Vending machine food is garbage,” Connor says, setting everything on the nearest chair. “So we hit that diner on Fifth.” He crosses to me. “Good to see you awake, Jas. You scared the hell out of us.”
“I’m getting that a lot tonight.”
Jaxon sets the bag down and presses a kiss to Jessa’s temple before turning to me. Kamal follows with the takeout, offering me a warm smile as he starts unpacking containers.
But it’s Jaxon I’m watching. The way his gaze drifts to Antonio, then back to me. There’s quirk at the corner of his mouth, like he’s holding back a comment.
I’ve seen that look before. At brunch three weeks ago, when Antonio passed me the syrup without being asked. At game night, when we accidentally reached for the same card. Small moments that shouldn’t mean anything, but Jaxon always seems to catch them.
I’ve spent months telling myself I was paranoid. That no one could know about the night I’ve pretended didn’t change everything.
But the guys have been different around us lately. Not obvious about it, just a certain awareness in the room whenever Antonio and I occupy the same space.
They know something. Maybe not about the baby, but about us.
Which means Meesha and Jessa are the only ones still in the dark. My best friends. The last to know.
I’m too tired for this. For the pretense, the secret glances, the slow unraveling.
“How are you actually feeling?” Jaxon asks.
“Sore. Exhausted. Like my brain is wrapped in cotton.” I pause. “But okay. Really.”
Kamal starts unpacking the takeout containers. “You need to eat something. Hospital food is—”
“I’m pregnant. Antonio is the father.”
The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. Before I can think them through.
Kamal’s hand freezes over a container of fries. Jaxon smirks. Connor blinks once, twice, as if he’s waiting for the punchline.
Meesha stares at me. Then at Antonio. Then back at me.
“I’m sorry—Antonio?” She points at him. “This Antonio? My brother?”
I nod, bracing for her reaction.
Meesha’s face breaks into a grin. “Oh my God!” She smacks Connor’s arm. “I’m going to be an aunt!”
“Me too!” Jessa adds.
“Not really,” Meesha is dancing. “My best friend is having my brother’s baby. Do you understand what this means?” She points at Jessa, then at me. “I’m going to be an aunt before either of you. I win.”
“This isn’t a competition,” Jessa says.
“It is, and I’m winning.” Meesha crosses to my bed and grabs my hand. “A little niece. I’m going to spoil her rotten. She’s going to have the best wardrobe of any baby in this city.”
Connor shakes his head. “Of course that’s where your head goes.”
“Where else would it go?” She looks at Antonio, still frozen in his chair. “You’re going to be a dad. This is exciting. Carmen will be happy!”
Antonio doesn’t respond.
“We should give them some space,” Jaxon suggests.
Jessa squeezes my hand before stepping back, and Meesha leans down to press a kiss to my forehead. “We’ll call you tomorrow,” she murmurs, then moves to her brother. She cups his face and plants a kiss on his cheek. “Breathe, Tony. This is a good thing.”
He manages a tight nod, and she pats his shoulder before rejoining Connor.
The guys file past Antonio one by one. Jaxon claps him on the back without a word. Connor follows with a firm squeeze to his shoulder and a look that says they’ll talk later. Kamal pauses longest, studying Antonio’s face before giving him a nod.
“We left you some food,” Kamal says, gesturing to the containers on the windowsill. “Make sure she eats something.”
Then they’re gone, and the room feels twice as large and twice as quiet.
Outside the door, a nurse calls out a room number. Footsteps pass. Someone laughs down the hall. The world keeps moving, indifferent to the silence stretching between us.
Finally, he speaks. “The doctor said two weeks of bed rest,” he says. “No screens, no stress, limited activity.”
“I heard.”
“You can’t go back to your apartment alone.”
I bristle at his tone. “I’ll be fine.”
He stands, and there’s a determination in his posture that makes my stomach flutter with something other than nausea. “I have a lake house an hour from here. Five bedrooms, fully stocked, and I can work remotely.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Jasmine.” He breathes my name into the space between us. “You’re carrying my child. You almost died tonight. Let me take care of you.”
“We’re not together, Antonio. One night doesn’t make us... anything.”
He flinches, and I immediately regret the words. But I can’t take them back.
I woke up in his bed in Vegas, naked and alone. And I’d lain there for ten humiliating minutes, waiting like an idiot, before I finally left.
So he doesn’t get to sit here now talking about taking care of me. Like he hadn’t already shown me exactly what I was worth to him.
“I know,” he says. “But you’re still the mother of my baby. And right now, you need help. Let me give you that.”
I want to refuse. Every self-protective instinct screams at me to maintain my distance, to handle this alone the way I’ve handled everything else in my life.
But I’m exhausted. My body aches, my head throbs and the doctor’s words keep echoing.
I can barely sit up without the room spinning. How am I supposed to manage alone?
This isn’t about him. It’s about her. The baby I almost lost tonight.
And she matters more than my pride right now.
“Fine,” I finally say.