Chapter 18
Alyssia
I struggle to stuff my gratitude notebook into my leather shoulder handbag. In the confusion and bustle of all of the rest of the passengers stepping off of the metro, I’m unable to fully snap the second flap but it’s not a big deal.
Today’s my first day at the office and I’ve taken an early train in to give myself time to walk around a little before arriving.
While I’m considering which shop to stop in to grab a cup of tea, I feel a presence come up beside me. For a second, I clutch my purse tighter to my side.
“You’re early.”
My shoulders lose their tension from the sound of Travis’ voice.
His smile is easy, and I have to make myself not stare at his lips.
“Sorry, I hope I didn’t scare you,” he apologizes, but the smile still plays at the corners of his mouth.
I glance around the metro station full of people commuting into Monte-Carlo. “Were you waiting for me?”
“It’s your first day and this metro station can be confusing.” He waves a hand around.
This subway and train station is kind of notorious for turning people around, especially those not used to public transportation.
“I made it fine,” I say instead of indulging in the softness that tries to overtake the center of my chest.
“I see.” He extends an arm holding a coffee cup.
“Lemon-ginger tea,” he informs me. “There are some conflicting reports on whether caffeine is actually safe during pregnancy. Limited amounts seem to be okay, but well, considering, I thought tea would be better over coffee.” He shrugs.
“Also, you had lemon-ginger tea at your place in New York.”
“You remember that?”
His eyes sparkle with something I can’t put into words.
“Thank you,” I say just above a whisper while taking the hot cup of tea from him.
“I’ve got honey, too. The fake sugar isn’t good for you.”
A part of me—the part that loathes being taken for weak or needy—wants to tell him that I’m damn capable of deciding what type of sweetener I can put in my drink.
The other, wiser part of me, takes the damn honey because it’s my sweetener of choice.
“You’re early,” he says as we stride toward the exit. “Thought I had at least another twenty or thirty minutes before you arrived.”
I grin into my cup of tea, for whatever reason. “Why’d you get here so early?” Then I wince because the question sounds bratty coming out of my mouth.
“I mean—”
His chuckle cuts me off. A lump forms in my throat when he slips a hand behind my back to guide me around a couple of commuters and toward the exit.
“I arrived early because you seem like the type who’d come in early.”
“I’m not the only one who likes to show up early,” I counter.
He nods. “You’re not wrong. I have …” He trails off when his phone begins ringing. After pulling it out of his pocket, he quickly sends the caller to voicemail.
I didn’t have time to see the name, but for a second I wonder if it’s another woman calling him. It’s not like Travis and I have an established relationship or anything. And he’s a good-looking guy.
“What was that about?”
I hadn’t even noticed I’d snorted until he points it out.
“Nothing. I’m going this way.” I point toward the opposite street from where he’s still guiding me with a hand at my back. “I want to walk past the marina,” I tell him when he gives me a confused expression.
“Perfect time of day for a walk over there,” he says. “In the afternoons it gets pretty busy. Especially now that the weather’s starting to turn.”
He glances up as if taking in the sun that sits high in the blazing blue sky. My eyes land on his profile, dropping down to his Adam’s apple that bobs up and down. For reasons I can’t quite name, my mouth starts to water.
I take another sip of my tea. That doesn’t quite quench the sudden thirst that’s overtaken me but it’s all I’ve got for now.
“You should see this place during the summers. Obviously, race weekend it’s insane.”
I bristle at the mention of the race, but my eyes dart out, examining the street we’re walking down.
“Are all of the streets in Monaco so windy?” I ask.
“The main one is.”
“And that’s the street you race on, right?” I already know the answer, but I ask in hopes that the answer will be different.
“One of the most challenging tracks of the season,” he says, something like enthusiasm infusing itself into his voice. “Which is what makes it one of the most exciting.”
My heartbeat begins picking up and dark memories start to press against the invisible, mental wall I’ve trapped them behind. It’s been a long time since the panic of those memories has consumed me and I aim to keep it that way.
“Do you like the beach?” Travis suddenly asks right as we come up to the marina.
He’s right, there’s not a ton of people around, though it’s not deserted or anything. It makes the stroll enjoyable.
“Beach, pool, lake. I love swimming,” I say as I stare out at the cerulean waters. “My dad taught me to swim. He loved it,” I say without thinking.
The moment I recall my words, I turn back to Travis to tell him that I can finish the walk to work from here, but my movements are too uncoordinated and my notebook that’s been half hanging out of my bag this entire time slips and falls to the ground.
Travis is quicker than I am, retrieving it. It’s fallen open to this morning’s writing. He glances at it, wrinkling his forehead.
“My new apartment, the ability to do good work through my new job,” he reads the first two items on my list, then looks up at me.
I grab the notebook from him, shutting it and stuffing it back into my bag.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing,” I say while continuing on my walk, leaving him to catch up.
He does so easily, again placing his hand at the small of my back. I resist the desire to shake off his touch, in part because I don’t mind it as much as I wish I did.
“Didn’t look like nothing to me. Was it a gratitude list?”
It seems silly to deny what was obvious.
“Yes. I write a list of five things every morning.”
“Why?”
My stomach twists.
A former therapist recommended it, doesn’t fall easily from my lips. Instead, I tell him, “It’s good for you.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “How so?”
I adjust my shoulder bag from my right to my left shoulder, though I never carry things on my weaker shoulder.
“It helps start my day with a positive outlook. Sounds, I don’t know, woo-woo or whatever, but a gratitude practice can help shift a negative perspective.”
“Not super woo-woo,” he comments. “Sort of like visualization.” A contemplative expression crosses his handsome features. “I’ve used visualization off and on for years. A lot of athletes do.”
“Does it work?” I find myself asking.
He shrugs. “Honestly, I don’t know. I think so. It doesn’t hurt picturing myself crossing the finish line first. Gives me something concrete to aim for and helps provide muscle memory because we run through scenario after scenario.”
For a few minutes I forget about the fact that Travis is talking about racing and admire him as a highly skilled professional speaking about what helps keep him at the top of his game.
The segment of my brain that loves to pick things apart and figure them out, wants to ask more questions. I long to know about his process and what drives him to want to win so badly.
But I don’t ask about those things because inevitably it’ll lead me back to the fact of what he does for a living.
The ringing of Travis’ phone breaks the short silence between us. This time he answers, “Yeah, Norm? … I remember. … Nine-thirty. I’ll be there. Annalise already scheduled it. I’ll call you after the meeting.”
“That sounded important,” I say casually.
“Business. Norm’s my agent.”
I nod. “Pros need agents.”
“So they tell me.” He pushes out a heavy breath.
“You’re going to be traveling again this weekend, right?”
He nods, but a frown mars his face. “Japan. But I’ll still be able to make it to your appointment with Dr. Dupas next Monday.”
My steps falter because I hadn’t even thought about my doctor’s appointment scheduled for later this week. It’s my first in-office appointment with the new doctor Travis found for me here in Monaco.
She’s connected to the main hospital. Travis set it all up when he assumed I would be living here in Monte-Carlo.
I did my own research on the side and already had a video call with Dr. Dupas. I immediately felt safe with her, so I’ve chosen to keep her as my main OB-GYN for the duration of this pregnancy.
“Oh, I wasn’t … If you’re buy, I don’t mind going on my own.”
“I’m not too busy,” he says, suddenly stopping in front of me. “I want to be there.”
There’s an urgency in his tone that wasn’t present a moment ago. I think back to my doctor’s visit in New York, where we had our first ultrasound. The moments sitting in Dr. Slosher’s office, waiting for her to come in were made less anxiety filled with Travis there beside me.
The warmth of his presence, magnified by the way he held my hand as we heard the baby’s heart, played on a loop in my mind for days afterward.
And the insistent look in his eyes now, are all reasons why I reply, “Okay,” instead of telling him he doesn’t need to come.
“Did you know the baby’s hearing will develop by week eighteen?” he asks.
“That’s next week.”
“I know. Which is why it’s a good thing for you and me to spend more time together.”
I stop short.
“I want the baby to get used to the sound of my voice,” he tells me.
“Is that all?”
“No.”
My head juts back in surprise at how candid his response is. “That’s just the first reason.” He glances over my shoulder, looking up. “That’s my building by the way.”
I look across the street, and sure enough, there’s his apartment complex.
“If you lived here, it would be less than a ten-minute walk to the office.”
“We’ve been through this,” I respond, letting what he’d said a moment ago drop.
“Did you have breakfast this morning?”
I wrinkle my forehead. “I bought a croissant on the way to the train.”
He frowns. “That’s it?”
“It was delicious.”
“You need protein and some fat in there.”
“Are you a nutritionist?”
“I’ve worked with enough over the years to know an unbalanced diet when I see it. Also, the pregnancy book I’m reading now—”
“How many books did you buy?”
His mouth twists. “Purchased two more the other day. I have a lot of time to read on flights.”
“I eat well enough. I’ve just never been much of a breakfast person.”
He doesn’t look like he likes my answer.
“We’re almost here,” I say as we bend the corner and the building where the satellite office of my organization is housed comes into view.
“Good luck on your first day,” he says, and something inside of me melts a little.
I’ve started three different new jobs, all in different cities that I lived in after college. This is the first time I’ve had someone wish me luck on my first day of work, in person.
Travis’ eyes drop to my lips, and that’s when I realize I’m smiling.
“I should go,” I say, sounding eerily like I’m ending a first date instead of going off to work.
A tug on my hand stops me.
“Hey, you only wrote out three.”
I scrunch my face.
“This morning’s gratitude list. There were only three items.”
I’m starting to recognize that not much gets past this man. That knowledge both terrifies and excites me. It’s an odd feeling to be seen so keenly when I’ve unconsciously worked to be hidden.
“I didn’t have time to finish,” I say.
“Then what are the last two?”
I should’ve been prepared for the fact he wouldn’t allow me to get away with that explanation.
“Beautiful weather,” I say.
“And number five?”
My hand moves to my belly without me thinking about it. I instantly think of the same thing that’s been on my morning list every day since my first ultrasound.
“My body … for keeping this baby.”
Travis squeezes my hand and leans in, pressing a kiss to my cheek. It should surprise me but doesn’t. It feels almost natural to have his lips on me, my hand in his, his body crowding my space.
“I’m grateful for that, too,” he says in my ear. He pulls back, staring me in the eye. “And morning walks,” he adds with another squeeze of my hand.
“Have a good day.”
When he releases my hand, my body goes colder. I’m the first one to move, leaving him standing there watching me as I enter the stone building.
I don’t know what the hell has overcomes me, but I remind my body to calm itself down and focus on work not the man whose baby I’m having.