Chapter 57
Monica
“ Y ou’re sure?” asked Troy, holding a paint roller and looking at me with a raised eyebrow.
“Yes, I’m sure.” I ran my own paint roller through the tray on the floor.
It had been a feat just to crouch down to do that. I wasn’t sure how I was going to paint an entire nursery. Of course, I had asked the doctor if it was safe for me to do so, and he gave me the green light. Although, it had been hard for me to give the green light on which color to use for the nursery, until I found the perfect shade of blue.
Blissful blue.
Blissful.
A juxtaposition to what my life was like three months ago when I almost lost my life, and then found out I was pregnant, and then I lost Troy.
“Okay,” he said hesitantly as he rolled the paint onto the wall, watching me from the corner of his eye.
“Will you stop that?” I rolled my eyes.
“I just want to make sure. It only took you seventy-five paint swatches to find the one you wanted.” He laughed.
It was more like eighty-five, but who was really counting. I tried to pull myself to stand, but my round belly made it hard. Troy put down the paint roller and came over, taking my hands in his and helping me to my feet. He didn’t let go of my hands as he looked down at me with warmth in his eyes.
“I just want it to be perfect,” I said.
“It is perfect,” he whispered. “You’re perfect.”
He leaned down and kissed me, his hands moving to my belly gently. I closed my eyes and soaked in the moment, remembering when I thought this life would never be ours. Becoming parents and painting our son’s nursery, being completely in love.
Three months ago, when Troy had left me in the hospital after I told him I was pregnant, I thought my world was over. It hurt more than any of the bruises or my banged-up head that had been inflicted by the accident. I remember watching him leave out the door as I clutched the ultrasound in my hands, the glossiness slick against my fingers.
He came back almost two hours later, avoiding getting smacked upside the head by his sister and pulling me into his arms with tearful apologies. I remember holding him, his face pressed against my stomach as he clutched onto me. I couldn’t turn him away. The entire day had been something out of a thriller, a shock to us both, and then to throw in the news of me being pregnant. It would be a lot for anyone.
“I’m scared to be like my father,” he had whispered, almost to the baby more than me.
I had run my fingers through his dark hair, my heart breaking, knowing that Troy, this wonderful man, believed he would be like that awful man. I was guiltily impressed when I heard he had decked his own father in the face. Maybe it would be the wakeup call that the powerful, almighty Bryson Gunner needed.
“The only thing you two have in common is your DNA,” I’d said.
It made him laugh softly.
“Only you could make me laugh after the day we’ve had,” he’d replied, looking up at me.
I smiled down at him.
“Move in with me,” he’d said.
“Wh-what?” I had asked in surprise.
Just an hour ago, I thought that I had lost the love of my life, and now he was asking me to live with him.
“Move in with me. Let’s do this right. I love you and I love this baby. I want to be the best father I can be, and the best partner to you.”
My eyes began welling up with tears.
“Okay.” I had nodded, my voice barely a whisper.
The next day, when I was released from the hospital, Troy made a cozy spot for me on his couch, with blankets and snacks and all my favorite movies. He told me to stay there and relax, while he and the moving company he had hired the night before moved everything out of my small apartment in Queens to here, his penthouse in Manhattan. By the end of the evening, everything I owned was there. We were starting our life together.
The last few months, we had spent just about every waking hour together. Since Troy had quit his job at the hedge fund company, and left his father’s company for good, I was also out of a job. I still had my part-time freelance job for Erica’s newspaper. If I were still living on my own, it would never be enough to survive. I felt funny living rent-free in this amazing apartment, but Troy merely scoffed. Even though he was unemployed, he still had billions to live off. He was set for life if he never wanted to work again, but I knew he wanted to work. We both did.
Before we figured that part of our life out, and before it was deemed too late in my pregnancy to travel, Troy whisked me away on a beach vacation. A babymoon in the Maldives. I had never seen such a beautiful beach in my life, with its blinding white sand, so soft to the touch, and the crystal clear, sapphire blue waters.
We spent two weeks there, with pina colada mocktails in hand, my growing belly in a bikini, soaking up the sun. Despite my changing body, Troy seemingly couldn’t get enough of me, or I him. If we weren’t on the beach, we were holed up in our seaside bungalow, lost in each other in the white linen sheets. Our own private fortress.
I was thankful the small bout of morning sickness had passed, although it was a tradeoff for restless nights. I wasn’t sure if it was the pregnancy insomnia or the nightmares that kept me awake. It could have been a combination of both. I was scared to fall asleep some nights because of the images of the crunched red metal of the sports car or the crazed look on Veronica’s face often entered my dreams, causing me to lurch awake.
Troy would comfort me, rubbing my back as I tried to let the lapping waves soothe me back to sleep. He assured me over and over that Veronica would never hurt me again, and I knew that. I knew he would protect me, and I him. Though she was facing prison time, her big-wig attorney was able to fight it by having her plead insanity. While it could have been a ploy, I believed it to be true. Veronica was insane, and she needed help. She was sent to a mental hospital, and would be there for years. Just to be safe, Troy and I both filed restraining orders on her, in case she conned her way out, thoughTroy’s attorney assured me would be impossible.
I had known how much Veronica had loved Troy, or at least been infatuated with him. That much was apparent in her desperate attempts to get him back by inserting herself in family functions to harassing me to stalking him. I just never knew that it would go as far as it did. Erica kept suggesting that when I was ready, I should write a thriller based on my own life. She said it might be the therapeutic release I needed, but I just wasn’t ready for that. Maybe someday. Until then, I recently settled with therapy at Troy’s suggestion, which seemed to be working as my restless nights were becoming fewer.
When we got back from the Maldives, Troy got to work on starting his own company. It wasn’t going to be easy, starting it from the ground up, but I knew he could do it. I could see how much he wanted it, how much he wanted something that was his very own, far from the shadow of his father.
In college, he had taken a few courses on AI, and had really found a passion for it. He never fully pursued it because he let his father dictate his path, but now he had the freedom to go for it. With Daniel Jacobs’s help, who owned his own tech company, he was able to come up with some fresh ideas that weren’t in today’s market yet. Daniel gave him a list of contacts for him to use. We had a lot to thank Daniel for, including our own relationship. If it weren’t for him, Troy and I wouldn’t have set foot in each other’s lives again after that fateful night at the bar.
I had never seen Troy so invested in something. I had seen him work for months, working alongside him as his assistant, but I had never seen him this excited about anything. It made my heart full knowing that he was pursuing something that was all his. I was so glad he didn’t give up on himself, when many others in his position of wealth would settle for having money in the bank, not needing to do anything for the rest of their lives.
While he worked at his desk, I would curl up in an armchair and write, trying not to be distracted by how good he looked when he was deep in thought. I was more than keeping up with the assignments the newspaper would give me, even throwing them extra each week, and my eagerness was noticed. They just offered me a full-time job last week, which I gladly accepted. They were aware I was pregnant and would need time off in the coming months, but they offered me the job anyway. I now had a weekly column of my short stories in the paper, along with their online edition.
Troy had made me a delicious steak dinner to celebrate, complete with sparkling cider and an array of my favorite desserts from a nearby bakery. He was so proud of me.
While I hadn’t published a book in a while, my fanbase had taken an interest in my columns at the paper. And new fans from the paper had taken an interest in my books. There had been a resurgence in sales at the bookstores and online, allowing me to build a little nest egg of my own because of the royalties. A few of my books were back on the charts of the bestseller lists.
It seemed like everything in my life was working out perfectly. As I stood here in my son’s nursery with the man I loved, I smiled at the way my life had turned out. But then my eyes fell on the stroke of paint on the wall and my smile pulled slightly into a frown.
“What?” asked Troy, a touch of dread in his voice as he followed my gaze to the wall.
“Don’t hate me…”
“Uh-oh.”
“I just don’t love it.”
Troy let out a little sigh before kissing me on the forehead. He knelt down on the ground and started replacing the lid on the paint can. He picked it up by the metal handle and started heading for the door.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“Back to the hardware store. I want to find something you do love. Maybe that Lucy Blue you were eyeing.”
“You’re the best. You know that?”
“I know.” He chuckled.
He turned and walked out the door, and I smiled after him. I remember he had wanted to hire someone for the job, but I insisted we do it ourselves. He probably now regretted agreeing to it with my ever-changing mind, but I liked knowing we were doing this together. He was getting another taste of my world, even as we painted a nursery that was probably bigger than my old apartment in Queens. I sat on the floor of the nursery, patiently waiting for him to get back. I looked at the four walls surrounding me, knowing they were filled with love.