Chapter 31
Thirty-One
Astrid
While my hairstylist put the finishing touches on my hair, I glanced over at Aria and Annalise who were still looking through the contents piled up on my kitchen table.
Apparently, Tristan had taken Archie's scolding to heart, spending tons of money to shower me with gifts every single day for the last week, multiple times a day, most of them currently covering every surface of my kitchen and living room.
There were flowers of course, scattered about my place, as well as enough luxury candles and perfumes to open my own boutique.
Face aglow, Aria opened the tiny music box she'd found, opening it to play a familiar lullaby while Annalise held up a little cashmere onesie, causing Aria to clap her hand over her mouth.
"Oh, my God," Aria squealed. "That's so freaking adorable. I can't even stand it."
"Right?" Annalise agreed. "It's just too cute."
Annalise cooing over baby clothes? What was this world coming to?
"Ooh, and what's all this?" Aria had put the still-playing music box down and drifted away from the baby gifts to the more personal ones Tristan had sent.
She opened a box with a necklace and sighed over it before moving along to the earrings and bracelets. They hadn't yet spotted the five—yes, five—pairs of shoes, all of them heels, one of them custom made and inscribed with my most recent slogan #notsorry.
Yeah, that one had gotten me. Tristan got me.
I was a girly-girl through and through, and his gifts were right up my alley.
"This man is crazy about you," Aria gushed.
Glancing at Annalise, I gauged her reaction, knowing she was the tougher sell.
"Well," she hummed, "it certainly appears that way. However, I hope he knows that all the gifts in the world don't mean anything unless he backs it up with his actions."
"Duh, we all know that," Aria said. "But could we at least give the man a chance?"
Annalise shot her a look. "After Astrid talks to those assholes tonight and finds out the truth once and for all."
For some reason, their bickering about what I should do—hello, shouldn't this all be my decision?—amused me tonight when it usually irritated me. I had no idea why.
Maybe I was just too focused on the constant pulse of nerves cascading through my body. This couldn't be good for the baby.
After tonight, I had to make a decision... my final decision.
I'd either believe Tristan and move on from my past with him, or I'd choose to go it alone and be a single mom without him.
Oh, God. No pressure or anything.
The doorman called, saying that Tristan was downstairs and should he send him up. "No, no, thank you. I'll come down."
The last thing I wanted was for my sisters to be all up in our business if Tristan entered my apartment. Annalise would grill him while Aria would pepper him with questions about all the gifts.
It was best to just go downstairs and cut him off before—
"We'll go down with you," Aria said.
"No. Please don't."
"But what about the pictures? You can't ask your doorman to take pictures, and you really need pictures to commemorate this night. Besides, look how beautiful you are. You have to get a photo before there's like spillage or something."
How could I resist that paired with her pleading eyes?
So we made a big entourage, my glam squad plus my sisters, all of us making our way downstairs, picking up a few stragglers/rubberneckers in the elevator who were just plain curious to see what all the fuss was about.
All the hubbub momentarily distracted me, which I supposed was a good thing, but it all fell away the second we arrived in the lobby and I spotted him.
He had his back to me, looking at something out the window, slowly turning at the noise of our large group. Our eyes met, and my breath hitched at how damn handsome he was tonight.
I mean, he was always handsome, but there was something extra hypnotic about him at the moment. Had he grown taller? More attractive, even more chiseled?
Heat passed between us, and I took a shaky breath, taking in everything about him as he strode toward me—his perfectly tailored suit, his dark hair, that cut jaw, the breadth of his shoulders.
Something bumped into my back, making me nearly lose my balance. But I caught myself because I was a bad-ass in these new heels.
"Oops, sorry," Aria whispered.
Wait, had I just stopped walking in the middle of the room?
Tearing my eyes from Tristan, I realized I had, and like twenty people were behind me, spilling out from the large elevator into the traffic jam that I'd caused.
But then, Tristan was in front of me, taking my hands, steadying me, drinking me in with what I could only describe as hungry eyes, making me lose sight of everything going on around me.
His hands were warm and strong as he gripped mine, his eyes roaming from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.
"My God, you're a vision in this dress. Absolutely stunning. I'm the luckiest man in the world to be escorting you tonight."
Somebody behind my right shoulder let out a dreamy sigh, probably Aria, and then jarred me out of my reverie with a whispered thank you.
"Oh, um, yes, thank you," I repeated.
He smiled, lighting me up inside.
"Just remember," Annalise said in a low voice from my left shoulder, "don't let him off the hook until after you talk to Preston and Sloane."
With a glint of amusement in his eye, Tristan nodded. "Fair enough. Your sister has a point."
"I most definitely do," Annalise said.
"Relax, Annalise," Aria hissed.
My head on a swivel, I glanced at one of them and then the other, a giggle escaping me, because they were literally an angel and devil perched on either shoulder.
"Ready to get out of here?" Tristan asked, a knowing smile on his face.
"God, yes."
Taking my hand firmly, he laughed.
"Nuh-uh, not without pictures, babes," Aria spoke up.
Okay, now she had officially joined Annalise in the devil category.
But since there was no fighting it, I relented, and Tristan and I posed for a crap-ton of photos, as I wondered the whole time whether these photos would someday be cherished as the real start of something or if I'd look at them and cry. Or rage. Or feel stabby.
Oh, my God.
It all hit me. I was really doing this. Going to what was pretty much a St. Lucius reunion with Tristan Hawthorne.
As if he sensed my swirling panic, he took one look at me and whisked me away toward the front door. "That's it. We need to go," he said, all bossy CEO tone that no one dared argue with.
Damn, that was hot.
I turned to wave goodbye to everyone, only to freeze in my tracks just outside the door, because there was a Rolls Royce waiting out front, complete with a uniformed chauffeur patiently waiting for us.
"Wow," I gasped as he opened the door.
So maybe with my upbringing, I was somewhat used to luxuries like this, but the fact that Tristan had gone all out for this evening meant a lot to me.
Sliding into the back, I sunk into the soft leather seat, the smell surrounding me, like old money mixed with a hint of Tristan's cologne, amplified when he settled in beside me, his thigh brushing mine in the most delicious way.
Why did he always have to smell so good? It messed with my mind completely and threw me off balance, taking me back to the night when we'd...
No. I couldn't think about that.
The door closed, shutting us inside our own little world, tinted windows hiding us from onlookers, the car almost soundproof to the usual noises of the city.
As the driver smoothly pulled into traffic, I noticed Tristan's eyes travel from my hips to my toes—yes, thank you slit—heating up the intimate space.
"You wore the shoes..." His voice was gravelly. "They look perfect on you."
I swallowed. "Thank you. I love them."
His eyes glimmered with pleasure as he smiled at me, all that energy lasered in on me, overwhelming yet addictive. God, I could get used to that.
"I actually loved all the gifts. I... I'm not sure how to even thank you."
He shrugged. "No need for thanks. I just had fun. Archie helped."
"What?" I couldn't help laughing at the idea of the snarky teenager picking out baby clothes. "He did?"
"It was the least he could do after roasting me so thoroughly," he said wryly.
More laughter escaped me.
"Would you believe..." Tristan's hand landed on my knee as he spoke. "...that Archie even looked up baby rooms?"
Baby rooms? I hadn't even done that yet. "No. I don't believe that for one second."
"It's the goddamn truth. He did. But..."
"But what?" I braced myself.
"But I think the kid might be a little too obsessed with creepy stuff because, well, it started normal enough with animals and books, but then... I don't even want to tell you his suggestions."
"No, please don't. I'm having enough trouble with nightmares lately, and my brain doesn't need any more fuel."
While I aimed for a light tone, trying to downplay the bad dreams I'd been having lately, Tristan clearly didn't buy it, his brows coming down in concern.
"You're having nightmares?"
I attempted to shrug it off. "Yeah, probably hormones or something. It's fine though. Really."
His hand tightened on my knee. "What are they about?"
Sighing, I wondered how I could explain it, and if I even wanted to. After all, they were kind of about him. Well, they used to be, and now? They were just shadowy figures in hallways tormenting me, pointing and laughing at me.
He squeezed again, drawing my attention to his concerned face. "You know you can tell me anything. Right?"
Could I? I wasn't so sure... yet. But maybe this nightmare thing was a good place to start. "They're about what happened to me at St. Lucius," I blurted out.
A noise came from the back of his throat, something similar to a growl. "My God, if I could go back in time and fix everything, I would. I hate that you're having nightmares about it still."
Something about his tone, the empathy laced throughout his words, made me believe him and want to actually comfort him now. "I didn't for a long time. Or... they were sparse," I corrected. "But lately, I don't know. All of this has, um..."
His epic sigh made my hair move, which was impressive, considering all the product it contained. "Brought it back to the forefront, hasn't it?" he finished for me.
I nodded.
"I'm sorry," he said. "So fucking sorry."
We didn't have time to delve into it deeper, not with our driver pulling up to the venue.
Despite the anxiety pummeling me, I still managed to appreciate how stunning the place was, all columns and elegant arches, with wide steps and an entrance decked out in St. Lucius' colors.
Navy carpet trimmed in gold, banners with the school's crest. Not exactly understated or subtle. Typical.
The driver opened my door first with Tristan quickly coming around to offer an arm to me.
I was eternally grateful for his strong grip because the last thing I wanted to do was face-plant in front of these people.
Once I was safely on my feet, Tristan's hand landed on my back, something about it comforting while at the same time setting my body abuzz.
Or maybe that was my nerves. Because holy hell, I was really doing this.
As we climbed the few steps, the pressure of his hand increased on my back, and I knew he had me if the worst were to happen. But even that reassuring thought did nothing to calm my racing heart.
I was about to enter the lion's den.
"Tell me again why we're doing this?" I whispered as we passed clusters of alumni taking pictures outside the large ballroom.
He paused, turning to face me, his eyes pools of seriousness. "So you can show everyone how kick-ass you are. So you can finally get the apology you fucking deserve. So you can finally get closure."
"Oh, is that all?" I quipped.
His lips quirked up in a small smile. "That's all," he said, finality in his voice. "And then we'll blow this joint and never come back. Okay?"
I nodded.
"You can do this. I know you can."
Why he seemed to have so much faith in me, I couldn't fathom. Sure, I was strong in some respects. But this? It'd taken me right back to all the insecurities of adolescence, a place I desperately tried to avoid. Didn't most people?
Taking a deep breath, I turned back to the ballroom, deciding it was time to take that final push into the actual room and get this the hell over with.