Chapter 30
Hadley
The morning of the baby shower started with sunlight spilling through the massive glass windows of Cal’s mansion, flooding the house in a warm gold glow that almost felt too cheerful for how tight my chest felt.
Outside, the backyard looked like it had been ripped straight out of a celebrity magazine spread.
White silk tents floated in the breeze, draped with delicate ribbons in soft pink and powder blue since we still hadn’t found out the baby’s gender. Crystal vases overflowed with pastel roses and peonies, their scent mixing with fresh-cut grass and jasmine from Eleanor’s garden.
Tables were arranged in neat rows, each one dressed with lace runners and tiered trays filled with macarons, finger sandwiches, chocolate-covered strawberries, and miniature cupcakes decorated with edible gold dust. There was a three-tier cake standing proudly in the center that looked too perfect to be eaten, decorated with tiny fondant baby shoes and silver stars.
And gift bags. Designer gift bags. At every seat.
I stood near the patio doors, one hand pressed into the curve of my stomach, the other gripping the railing for balance. My back throbbed, my ankles were swollen, and my daughter, or son, had decided my bladder was their personal trampoline for the morning.
Thirty-seven weeks pregnant.
Any day now.
And somehow, I felt like I was standing in someone else’s life.
I swallowed slowly, adjusting the pale blue maternity dress Eleanor had bought for me last week. It hugged my belly tightly, stretching across skin that felt too fragile, too heavy, like my body was preparing for something it still wasn’t sure I could survive.
Me. Hadley Jackson. Former Vegas dancer. Foster kid. The girl who used to count crumpled tips at the end of every shift and pray rent wouldn’t bounce.
Now standing in Beverly Hills with a rockstar’s baby pressing against my ribs.
It didn’t feel real.
“Sweetheart, you shouldn’t be standing that long.”
Eleanor’s voice wrapped around me before her arms did. She slid beside me, carefully placing both hands under my elbow like I might topple over.
“You’re carrying my grandchild, not training for a marathon,” she said softly.
I smiled weakly. “I’m okay. Just… overwhelmed.”
Her eyes softened instantly. “That’s normal. Especially this close.” She crouched slightly, her gaze dropping to my belly like she was greeting the baby directly. “Any contractions today? Tightening? Pressure?”
“Just Braxton Hicks. Nothing consistent.” I hesitated. “And the baby keeps headbutting my bladder.”
Eleanor laughed gently, helping me toward a cushioned chair near the head table. “That means they’re strong. Just like their father.”
My chest tightened at that.
I glanced across the yard where Cal stood near the bar setup with Jake and Kei. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing tattooed forearms as he talked, but his posture was stiff. Guarded. Like he was physically present but mentally calculating every exit in the room.
Our therapy session yesterday still lingered between us like a bruise we kept accidentally pressing.
Him admitting he confused love with control.
Me admitting I felt like I was constantly trying to prove I was worth staying for.
The drive home had been quiet until he reached over and held my hand without saying anything.
Small steps.
Fragile ones.
“He’s nervous,” Eleanor whispered, following my gaze.
“I noticed.”
“He cares more than he knows how to show.”
Before I could respond, Cal started walking toward us. His eyes immediately scanned me head to toe, sharp and assessing.
“You been standing?” he asked.
“Hi to you too,” I said softly.
He ignored that, placing a firm hand against my lower back and guiding me deeper into the chair. “Your feet are swollen again.”
“They’ve been swollen for a month.”
“You still need to sit,” he muttered.
He grabbed a glass of water and pressed it into my hand before crouching in front of me unexpectedly. His palm rested against the underside of my belly, supporting it slightly like he was instinctively trying to ease the weight.
The baby kicked.
Hard.
His eyebrows shot up. “Jesus. That one’s got attitude.”
I laughed under my breath. “They take after you.”
He didn’t smile, but something softened behind his eyes.
“You eat yet?” he asked.
“I had toast.”
“That’s not food, Hadley.”
“Cal…”
He stood abruptly. “I’ll grab you something. Protein. You need protein.”
I watched him walk away, my throat tightening at the awkward, clumsy way he tried. It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t smooth.
But it was effort.
And God, it was dangerous how badly I wanted to believe in it.
.....
The shower started filling up quickly. Eleanor floated between guests like a queen hosting a royal event, introducing me to relatives whose names I immediately forgot and friends who smiled too politely.
Eli sat in the corner with his tablet, headphones on, occasionally glancing up to make sure I was still breathing.
Games started. Laughter filled the tent. Someone forced Cal into a diaper-changing contest using a baby doll, and he swore loudly when he put it on backward, making everyone laugh.
Even me.
“Mom-to-be,” Eleanor called warmly. “Cravings update?”
“Pickles and vanilla ice cream,” I admitted.
“Together?” Jake asked, horrified.
“Obviously.”
Cal leaned closer. “That’s illegal in at least three countries.”
“Shut up.”
“Our kid is gonna have weird taste.”
“Our kid,” I repeated quietly.
He didn’t react, but his hand drifted back to my belly, thumb rubbing absent circles like he didn’t even realize he was doing it.
For a moment, everything felt… almost okay.
Then Eleanor clapped her hands.
“Before gifts, there’s a surprise guest. Courtesy of Cal.”
I frowned.
The tent flap opened.
“YOU DID NOT THINK YOU WERE DOING THIS WITHOUT ME, BITCH.”
Zariah stormed in dragging a suitcase behind her, sunglasses perched dramatically on her head.
I burst into tears immediately.
“You... How...?” I waddled toward her, nearly tripping before she grabbed me.
“Cal flew me first class,” she said proudly. “Threatened to murder me if I didn’t come.”
I turned slowly toward Cal.
He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact. “You said you missed her.”
My heart cracked open.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
He nodded once, jaw tight.
Zariah plopped beside me during gifts, whispering, “Girl, you’re glowing. Also you look like you might murder someone if they touch your feet.”
“Accurate.”
Gift opening turned chaotic in the best way. Tiny shoes. Blankets. A stroller that probably cost more than my car back in Vegas.
Cal sat beside me, opening packages and reading tags carefully.
“This one’s from my aunt,” he said, holding up a tiny leather jacket onesie. “That’s… aggressive.”
“Our baby is not wearing a biker jacket at two months old.”
“Speak for yourself.”
I laughed.
And then...
Sydney arrived.
Like a storm wrapped in designer fabric.
She walked in late, dressed in a sleek black dress that clung to her like she was attending a funeral instead of a baby shower. Her makeup was flawless, but her eyes were slightly red like she’d been crying just enough to be believable.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said smoothly.
Eleanor’s smile tightened almost imperceptibly. “Sydney. Welcome.”
Sydney’s gaze swept the entire tent before landing on Cal like she had radar built specifically for him.
“Cal, you look exhausted,” she murmured, stepping closer and adjusting his collar. “Are you sleeping at all?”
Her fingers lingered too long.
“I’m fine,” he said.
I shifted uncomfortably.
“Hadley,” she said, turning toward me with a bright, polished smile. “You look… radiant. Pregnancy suits some women beautifully.”
There it was.
Subtle. Sharp.
“Thank you,” I said evenly.
She slid into the chair beside Cal without asking, crossing her legs elegantly. “Remember Paris?” she said suddenly, laughing. “That night you and Holland tried to steal that fountain statue?”
Jake barked out a laugh. “You mean when Cal fell into the water trying to climb it?”
Cal groaned. “I was drunk.”
“We were all drunk,” Sydney said fondly, resting her hand lightly on his arm.
I stared down at my plate.
Conversations shifted around memories I wasn’t part of. Every story started with “we.” Every laugh reinforced how deep their bond ran.
Sydney didn’t start anything right away.
That was the worst part.
She blended into the party like smoke, smiling, laughing softly, touching Cal’s arm every time she spoke, slipping into conversations with the boys like she belonged in the center of their gravity. Which… she did. She always had.
I tried to ignore it.
Eleanor pulled me toward another table, introducing me to two of her friends who immediately started asking about nursery themes and birth plans. I answered politely, smiling until my cheeks hurt, shifting my weight from foot to foot because my lower back felt like it was splitting in half.
“Sweetheart, sit,” Eleanor whispered gently, noticing my discomfort.
“I’m okay,” I insisted, though I wasn’t.
Across the tent, Cal was laughing at something Jake said while Sydney leaned against the table beside him, her fingers idly tracing the rim of his glass like it was second nature.
Zariah leaned closer to me. “She’s circling.”
“I know,” I muttered.
“Want me to spill punch on her?”
Despite everything, I huffed a quiet laugh. “Tempting.”
Eleanor excused herself to greet new guests. Zariah’s phone buzzed, and she stepped aside to answer it, mouthing, work thing, before slipping toward the house.
And suddenly…
I was alone.
I didn’t notice Sydney approach until her perfume hit me first, something floral and expensive and suffocating.
“You look exhausted,” she said softly behind me.
I turned slowly. “Thirty-seven weeks pregnant tends to do that.”
Her eyes dropped to my stomach, scanning it slowly, clinically. “You’re carrying really low. Must be uncomfortable.”
“It is.”