Chapter 22
Indie
I woke up pissed. Like, irrationally, unreasonably pissed. The kind of pissed that made me want to throw something across the room just to hear it shatter.
And it was all because of Stone.
I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and stared at the text he’d sent me last night.
Stone: Too tired to drive back. Staying at the crash pad tonight. I’ll be there in the morning for the appointment.
That was it.
No “I love you.” No “I miss you.” Just a cold-ass text letting me know he wasn’t coming home.
The night before our first OB appointment. The night before we were supposed to hear our baby’s heartbeat.
And he couldn’t be bothered to make the drive back to the estate?
I knew I was being irrational. Knew he was probably exhausted from whatever business he’d been handling in LA. Knew he’d texted me so I wouldn’t worry.
But I didn’t give a fuck. I was still pissed.
I threw the covers off and climbed out of bed, heading to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face.
My appointment was at ten. It was eight-thirty now.
Stone better not be late.
I took a quick shower, then threw on a pair of black leggings and an oversized top that hung off one shoulder. I slipped on my white Air Force Ones and pulled my hair up into a high ponytail.
I added my diamond studs and my Cartier bracelet, then grabbed my phone and headed downstairs.
Brady was in the kitchen, prepping breakfast.
“Good morning, Indie,” he said with a warm smile. “Can I get you anything?”
“Just some toast,” I said, my tone clipped.
He raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. Smart man.
I sat at the kitchen island, scrolling through my phone while I waited.
A few minutes later, Brady set a plate of buttered toast in front of me along with a glass of orange juice.
“Thank you,” I muttered.
I picked at the toast, my stomach still a little queasy from the morning sickness that had been kicking my ass for the past week.
I heard the front door open, and my whole body tensed.
Stone.
I didn’t look up from my phone. Didn’t acknowledge him at all.
I heard his footsteps getting closer, then felt his presence behind me.
“Morning, baby,” he said, his voice low and smooth.
I didn’t respond. Just kept scrolling through Instagram like he wasn’t even there. He moved around the island until he was standing in front of me.
Lord.
He was too much.
Dark denim hung low on his hips, paired with a fitted tee that stretched just enough across his chest, his tattoos fully on display down his arms. The chain at his neck sat heavy against him, subtle but impossible to ignore.
His waves were fresh, his beard was lined up perfectly, and he smelled like that expensive cologne that always made me weak.
I hated that I noticed. Hated that even when I was mad at him, I still wanted to climb him like a tree.
Stone stepped closer, reaching for me. I leaned back, avoiding his touch.
His jaw tightened.
“Indie—”
“We need to leave soon,” I said, cutting him off. “The appointment’s at ten.”
I slid off the stool and walked past him, heading toward the front door. Stone followed me, his footsteps heavy behind me.
When I reached the door, he grabbed my wrist gently, turning me around.
“Hold up,” he said. “You not gon’ give me a kiss?”
I stared at him, my face blank. “No.”
His eyes narrowed. “No?”
“That’s what I said.”
He stepped closer, his hand moving to my waist. I stepped back, crossing my arms over my chest. Stone stared at me for a long moment, his jaw working.
“Why you mad at me?” he asked, his voice calm but edged with frustration.
“I’m not mad.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“Indie.” His tone was a warning now. “Talk to me. What’s the problem?”
I glared at him. “You stayed in LA last night.”
He blinked. “Yeah. I told you I was too tired to drive back. I texted you.”
“I don’t care.”
“You don’t care?” He let out a humorless laugh. “So, what, you wanted me to drive back exhausted and risk crashing the car?”
“You could’ve made it work.”
“Indie, I didn’t miss the appointment. I’m here, ain’t I?”
I didn’t respond. Because he was right.
He hadn’t missed the appointment. He was here, on time, ready to take me. But I was still mad, and I didn’t know why.
Maybe it was the hormones. Maybe it was the fact that I’d spent the whole night alone, missing him, worrying about him, wanting him next to me. Maybe it was just me being irrational as hell.
But I couldn’t snap out of it.
Stone stared at me, his expression unreadable. Then he shook his head and stepped back.
“Aight,” he said, his voice flat. “Fuck it. You wanna be mad? Stay mad.”
He turned and walked toward the front door, pulling it open. I followed him, my arms still crossed, my jaw tight.
Stone reached for the passenger door handle when we got to the car. Before he could open it, I smacked his hand away.
“I got it,” I snapped.
I pulled the door open myself and climbed inside, slamming it shut. Through the window, I saw Stone standing there, staring at me. Then he let out a low, dark chuckle and shook his head slowly. Like I was testing every ounce of his patience.
He walked around to the driver’s side and climbed in, his movements controlled but tense. He started the car, his hands gripping the steering wheel. Then he turned to look at me, his eyes hard.
“Stop trying me, Indie,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.
I glared right back at him. “Or what? You gon’ kill me while I’m carrying your child, nigga?”
His nostrils flared. He blew hot air through his nose, his jaw clenching so hard I could see the muscle ticking. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Just stared at me like he was deciding whether to snap or let it go.
I knew he’d never hurt me. Especially not now. Not while I was pregnant with his baby. But my anger made me want to push him. Made me want to get under his skin the way he got under mine. Finally, Stone turned away and put the car in drive.
“You got it,” he muttered.
We pulled out of the driveway in complete silence.
The drive to the doctor’s office was tense as hell. Stone didn’t say a word. Didn’t look at me. He just kept his eyes on the road, his hands gripping the steering wheel like he was holding himself back from saying something he’d regret.
I stared out the window, my arms crossed, my jaw tight. I could feel the anger radiating off him. Could feel the frustration. But I didn’t care.
Or at least, I told myself I didn’t.
When we finally pulled into the parking lot of the medical building, Stone parked the car and turned it off. Before he could get out, I was already opening my door and climbing out.
I speed-walked toward the entrance, my ponytail swinging. I heard Stone’s door slam shut behind me, but I didn’t slow down. I reached the door and pulled it open, letting it swing shut behind me. It slammed right in Stone’s face.
I didn’t look back.
Just walked straight to the reception desk and checked in with the woman sitting there.
“Indigo Thompson,” I said. “I have a ten o’clock appointment with Dr. Roberts.”
The receptionist smiled. “Of course. Just have a seat and we’ll call you back shortly.”
I nodded and turned around. Stone was standing a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes locked on me.
He looked pissed.
Good.
I walked over to the waiting area and sat down in one of the chairs, pulling out my phone. Stone sat down next to me, his body tense, his jaw still tight.
We didn’t speak. We just sat there in silence, the tension between us thick enough to cut with a knife. A few minutes passed. Then ten.
I scrolled through my phone, pretending to be interested in Instagram posts I didn’t give a damn about. But I could feel Stone staring at me. I could feel his eyes burning into the side of my face. I refused to look at him.
Finally, a nurse called my name.
“Indigo Thompson?”
I stood up immediately, shoving my phone into my purse. Stone stood up too, following me as the nurse led us down a hallway.
“We’re just going to get your weight and blood pressure real quick,” the nurse said with a smile. “Then I’ll take you to the room.”
She gestured to a scale, and I stepped on it. She recorded my weight, then led me to a chair where she wrapped a blood pressure cuff around my arm. Stone stood off to the side, his arms crossed, watching. The nurse pumped the cuff, waited, then released it.
“Blood pressure looks good,” she said. “A little elevated, but that’s normal for a first appointment.”
Or maybe it’s elevated because I’m pissed at my baby daddy, I thought. But I didn’t say that out loud.
The nurse led me down another hallway and stopped in front of a door.
“Dr. Roberts will be with you shortly,” she said, opening the door.
I walked in and climbed onto the table, my legs dangling off the edge.
The nurse closed the door behind her, leaving us alone. The silence was suffocating.
I stared at the wall, refusing to look in Stone’s direction, but I could feel him staring at me. I felt the weight of his gaze on the side of my face. I crossed my arms over my chest and kept my eyes forward.
A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door.
“Come in,” I said.
The door opened, and a woman in her forties with warm brown skin and kind eyes stepped inside.
“Good morning,” she said with a smile. “I’m Dr. Roberts. You must be Indigo.”
“Yes,” I said. “But everyone calls me Indie.”
“Indie it is.” She looked over at Stone. “And you must be dad.”
Stone nodded. “Stone.”
Dr. Roberts smiled and sat down on the rolling stool, pulling up my chart on the computer.
“So, Indie, congratulations on your pregnancy. How have you been feeling?”
“Nauseous,” I said. “Like, all the time.”
She nodded sympathetically. “That’s very common in the first trimester. It should start to ease up around twelve to fourteen weeks.”
“Good,” I muttered. “Because it’s kicking my ass.”
Dr. Roberts laughed. “I hear you. Let’s get started, okay? I’m going to do a quick pelvic exam and Pap smear, and then we’ll do an ultrasound so we can see the baby and hear the heartbeat.”
My stomach flipped.
The heartbeat.
I was about to hear my baby’s heartbeat.