Chapter 20
SEBASTIAN
Getting Valentina to agree to let me come to her first ultrasound takes the better part of two days and a supernatural amount of patience. Even after our second night together, she still won’t drop her guard completely.
The first time she says no, she says it’s because she doesn’t want to bother me with it.
“But I want to be there,” I point out. “So I’d really appreciate it if you let me.”
“It’s only the first ultrasound,” she deflects. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Of course it’s a big deal,” I groan. “I want to be there the first time we see our baby.”
“I’ll think about it,” she tells me.
The second time I ask, she tells me she doesn’t need an escort to the doctor’s office. By the third, she’s flat-out annoyed.
“You do realize you’re making me less inclined to agree every time you ask about it, right?”
“I hope our baby doesn’t inherit your stubbornness,” I tell her. “Kid’ll be hell to live with.”
She says nothing to that, but I can tell she isn’t thinking generous thoughts about me.
We both know it’s not stubbornness, though.
Not exactly. I still don’t know the full extent of what she went through with Adrian, but I know she clawed her way back from the brink on her own.
Built a new life and a new name for herself without anyone’s help.
She seems stubborn because there was a time when she had no say in what happened to her.
Even knowing that, it’s hard not to be frustrated that she won’t let me in. The child growing inside her shares half my DNA. This baby is important to me.
So important that I’ve grown wary of every small threat around us.
I never thought I’d be afraid, but the moment I found out about my child, everything in LA started carrying an extra weight of anxiety.
First things first, I have to find Adrian.
Then I have to figure out how the hell to protect my kid from literally everything else.
Nico is no help. He comes to my office for lunch the day before the ultrasound and refuses to take sides.
“It’s not my place. I get that you want to be there, but it’s her choice at the end of the day. And I’m not trying to sway Val about something again. I’m still dangling on the end of her shit list, and I’d really like to get off it.”
“For the record, I would never ask you to intervene,” I tell him truthfully. “This relationship doesn’t need any more external factors.”
“Oh, is it a relationship now?” he asks, sarcasm lacing every word. “I just thought it was a one-night thing.”
“Right,” I deflect. We’re definitely not discussing the ins and outs of my sex life with his sister.
The morning of the ultrasound, Val comes down to the kitchen in a simple black dress, a casual smile on her face.
“We should go if we want to beat traffic,” she says offhandedly.
“We?” I ask. “Does that mean I’m allowed to come?”
“It seems like a bad idea to fight the inevitable,” she says. “After all, you are the father.”
Despite her uncharacteristic friendliness, we don’t speak on the way to the doctor. I think she’s nervous, or maybe just in her own head about it. Her hand rests on her flat stomach as she stares absentmindedly out the window.
“How soon can we find out the sex?” I ask, feeling like a complete idiot for not knowing the basics.
“Not until about twenty weeks,” she answers, not looking at me. “It’s only the first trimester, so there won’t be much to see today.”
I don’t like this distance between us. She’s literally an arm’s length away, but mentally she’s on another planet. Sometimes I think I’ll never bridge that divide.
When we pull up to the doctor’s office, her posture goes rigid.
“Everything is going to be okay. You’re not alone in this,” I tell her, to which she nods.
We walk in together, though there’s a careful distance between us. To onlookers, we might seem like strangers who happened to walk in at the same time.
She signs in while I stand back a few feet, scanning the room.
Very competent and well-trained guards wait outside if anything goes wrong, but the only people in the waiting room are young women.
A couple of girls who look like they’re in their early twenties, a young mother rocking a car seat, and a woman in her early thirties flipping through a magazine.
None of them are a threat, so I can relax.
We sit in the uncomfortable plastic chairs.
She pulls out her phone, and I stare at the framed abstract print on the wall.
I’m in the door, which should be a relief, but I hate this iciness between us.
Adrian did a number on her, and I can’t wait to make him pay for it.
A nurse comes out after a few minutes and calls Val’s name. I stand with her and follow her into a sterile exam room. I look away as the nurse takes her weight and vitals. She asks about symptoms and appetite, and I soak in every detail. It’s more than I can get Val to share with me most days.
The nurse has her sit on the exam table and tells her the doctor will be right with us. When she leaves, it feels like she takes our buffer with her. Val doesn’t look at me, nor does she say anything. It’s only when the doctor walks in a few minutes later that I’m even acknowledged.
“Let’s have a look at your baby,” the doctor says cheerily, grabbing a bottle of gel.
Val lifts her shirt as the doctor squeezes gel onto her stomach, then pulls a wand from a machine that looks like it belongs in a sci-fi movie. A minute later, a rhythmic sound fills the room.
“That’s baby’s heartbeat,” the doctor tells us. “It’s nice and strong. Exactly what we’d hope to hear at this stage.”
I look down at Val, and she finally looks up at me. There are tears in her eyes, and I realize belatedly that my own eyes are wet. The sound is a miracle. There really is a little life in there. She takes my hand and squeezes tight. I can’t help but smile.
The doctor goes over information with Val that I don’t really follow.
She’s the one doing all the work, I’m just here to sit back and admire the journey.
Val is only ten weeks along, so it’s still very new.
We’ll have several more of these appointments over the next few months, and we’ll get to watch our baby actually start to look like a baby on the ultrasound screen.
The reality of this hits me like a freight train. This baby is no longer theoretical. I’ve heard its heartbeat. I’ve seen the evidence on the ultrasound screen. It’s real and it’s growing, and it will be here sooner than I can process. I’m going to be a father.
That’s not something I ever thought I’d be. Not something I ever thought I wanted. Truthfully, I’d never given it much thought. The business has always come first to me.
Not anymore.
Val and I haven’t even been on one date, but I know I’m falling for her. I’ve been falling for her for weeks. She challenges me and pushes me. She doesn’t take my shit or try to stroke my ego. She clearly doesn’t give a damn about my wealth, which is incredibly refreshing.
Maybe it’s because her brother is my best friend, so there was little pressure in the beginning to impress her. Or maybe she genuinely doesn’t feel the same. If that’s the case, I’ll have to deal with it eventually. Right now, though, I can’t stop smiling about our baby.
The doctor hands her a paper towel to clean off the gel, and then the nurse brings in some pages about vitamins and healthy growth. When we walk out of the office, I feel like the world has shifted on its axis.
“Thank you for letting me come,” I tell her, my voice catching. “That was really something.”
She actually blushes. “You’re welcome,” she answers quietly. “I thought about doing it alone, and it just felt way too depressing.”
We smile at each other, and for one fleeting second, I feel the ice starting to thaw. Unfortunately, peace is a fragile thing. No sooner do we turn toward the car than another vehicle comes tearing down the street.
The squeal of tires grabs my attention first, and then I see the barrel of a gun slide out the window. I pull Val behind a car. Not even a second later, shots ring out. She screams and covers her ears, and my men are already on it, returning fire at the car.
I put my body between her and the bullets, not caring what happens to me. Then hands are on us, and my team is guiding both of us into the car. I see the offending vehicle speed off too fast for me to catch its plates.
“Did anyone get the plates?” I shout to my team. “Even a partial?”
They all shake their heads. Fuck. I look over at Val, who’s clutching her middle and sobbing. My anger is instantly replaced by worry.
“I’m fine,” she says, like she can read my thoughts. “It’s fine.”
It’s not fine, though. It’s fucking unacceptable.