Chapter 9
Noelle
TWO MONTHS LATER…
Two months. Eight full weeks. Sixty damn days.
Long enough for Christmas to come and go…
and for me to pretend the decorations around the city weren’t reminding me of Winter Haven.
I had thrown myself back into work the moment I got home in an attempt keep my mind busy.
Bills didn’t wait, neither did my clients.
My calendar was stacked with corporate events, a celebrity birthday, two weddings, and a charity gala I’d been planning for six months.
My event planning business was thriving, keeping me too busy, but I’d rather drown in work than admit out loud that I missed a man I wasn’t supposed to remember.
Hell, I didn’t even want to admit it to myself, but the truth was simple: I thought about him every day.
The way he moved… the way he touched me…
the way my body reacted to him, and the worst part was that I didn’t even know his real damn name.
Just Caleb. A lie that felt more personal now than it ever did then.
So yeah… I buried myself in work. Today was no different.
I was on day three of prepping a massive engagement party with floral layouts, seating charts, catering confirmations, and custom lighting.
I had barely eaten, and my head had been pounding all morning, but I brushed it off as dehydration, or stress.
Or the fact that I hadn’t slept in two nights.
I was reviewing linen samples with a client when the room tilted.
I started feeling dizzy and my stomach felt like it was knotting.
Sweat prickled up my spine. And then… everything went black.
I came to in a bright room, the soft beep of machines somewhere behind me.
“Welcome back, Ms. Sterling?” a nurse said gently. “You were brought in by one of your staff members after fainting. We ran some standard tests.”
I sat up, rubbing my forehead. “Yeah… I’ve been pushing myself a little too hard, that’s all. Low blood sugar, right?”
The nurse exchanged a look with the doctor.
“Not exactly,” she said.
My stomach clenched. “Okay… then what?”
She pulled the chart closer and smiled carefully.
“You’re pregnant.”
Everything in me froze.
“What?”
“You’re pregnant, Ms. Daniels. About eight weeks along.” She paused. “Congratulations.”
Eight weeks… two months… the exact amount of time since…
“Oh my God.”
My throat closed. My pulse shot up, as a mixture of fear, disbelief and heart break took over. The nurse kept talking, explaining next steps, vitamins, follow-up appointments, but I didn’t hear a damn word. My brain was stuck on one sentence: I’m pregnant… with a stranger’s baby.
I checked myself out of the hospital once they finished the last round of tests.
The nurse offered to call someone for me, but I shook my head and ordered an Uber instead.
I walked out with the little discharge folder pressed to my chest, feeling like everybody could somehow see what she’d just told me.
The ride home was a blur. The driver tried to make small talk, but all I heard was white noise.
My stomach felt tight, my hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and every street we passed looked unreal, like I was watching somebody else’s life through a window.
When we pulled up to my townhouse, I thanked him, stepped inside, and finally let the silence close around me.
My keys hit the counter. My purse slid to the floor.
I stood there for a long moment, staring at nothing.
Then I grabbed my phone, looked through my email, and found the number to Winter Haven.
If there was even a chance he was still in their system…
I had to try. It rang twice before a woman answered.
“Winter Haven Resort, this is Marielle speaking. How may I assist you?”
My voice cracked on the first word. “Hi… I—I stayed there two months ago. I’m trying to get in touch with another guest who was there the same week.”
“Okay,” she said kindly. “And you’re reaching out in regard to…?”
I gripped the phone, trying to find the right words. “It’s… personal. I really need to contact him.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said, her tone shifting into that firm, professional wall. “But we do not release guest information for any reason. Privacy is one of our highest guarantees.”
My throat tightened. “I’m not asking for his address or anything. Just… his real name. Or his email. Or you could send him mine. Anything.”
“I truly understand,” she said. “But we are not allowed to share or forward guest information. Our clientele pays for discretion. I’m very sorry.”
My heart sank. I whispered, “Okay… thanks,” and hung up before I started crying again.
I wiped my face with the back of my hand and finally hit Bree’s name. She answered on the first ring.
“Girl, where the hell you been? I been texting all—”
“I’m pregnant.”
She sat in silence on the other end of the phone and it was killing me.
“…with WHO?”
I sank onto my couch, hands shaking. “The… the resort…Cal—”
“Resort—oh SHIT. The bathroom dude? The rich one with the dick that—”
“YES, Bree. Him.”
She went quiet again. “Okay. Okay. You know what? We can fix this. Call the resort. Tell them it’s urgent. Tell them—”
“I already did,” I whispered.
“And?”
“They said they don’t give out guest information. Privacy policy. No exceptions.”
“So… you don’t even know his last name?”
“No,” I said, voice cracking. “I don’t know anything. Just ‘Caleb.’ And that’s not even real.”
“Damn…”
I covered my face, ashamed of what I was about to say. “I fell in love with a stranger,” I whispered. “And now I’m carrying his baby. Bree… what the hell is happening to my life?”
Bree exhaled slowly. “Baby… I don’t know. But we gon’ figure it out.”
I sat in my thoughts, thinking about what was coming. Bree’s words held no wait right now because I didn’t feel figured out. I felt undone.
I sat on my bed hours later, scrolling through old photos from the resort.
Sunsets, food pics, random snaps but not one of him.
We were too busy vibing and fucking each other to touch our phones.
I Googled “Caleb + Resort + 3 nights + private suites.” Nothing.
I tried “Caleb + business trips.” Nothing.
“Caleb + tall light-skinned beard rich,” and still came up with absolutely nothing.
I laughed at myself. A pathetic, exhausted, half-choked laugh.
I didn’t know his last name., or where he lived, or what he did for a living.
I Didn’t even know if the nigga was single, taken, married, poly—nothing.
He was basically a fantasy… A week-long fever dream.
A man I was never supposed to see again. Except now, I had a piece of him growing inside me.
Every night, I replayed that bathtub moment. His hands on my hips, his voice in my ear,
his dick deep inside of me, exploring every part of my body. I wondered if he ever thought about me too. If he woke up remembering me or lied to himself the same way I did. If he ever whispered “no strings” while wishing he’d said something else. I pressed a hand to my stomach.
“What the hell is happening…” I whispered to the dark.
I wasn’t just pregnant… I was in love with a man who didn’t exist, At least… not in my world. Not anymore.