26. Natalie
CHAPTER 26
NATALIE
T he sharp tang of morning sickness jolts me awake, far earlier than the alarm set on my nightstand. Clutching my stomach, I lurch from the bed and barely make it to the bathroom before I’m sick.
I've only been pregnant for a few weeks, and already the nausea is overwhelming. For a while, I lay there on the bathroom floor, wondering how I’m going to get through the work day feeling like this.
Thankfully, this wave of nausea passes as quickly as it came, leaving me shaky but relieved. I sit back against the bathroom wall, the coolness of the tiles a small comfort against my clammy skin. The desire to crawl back into bed and forget the responsibilities waiting for me is incredibly tempting.
It's not just the morning sickness that's overwhelming, it's everything; the life growing inside of me, all the threats surrounding Julian and the Langford Building, and the thin ice we seem to be skating on every day.
Even so, I can’t afford a day off. The projects are all falling behind, and with Julian already under so much pressure, I can’t let things slide on my end. With a deep, steadying breath, I push myself up and lean against the sink, meeting my own gaze in the mirror.
The woman looking back at me is a far cry from the put-together professional I’m used to seeing. Her eyes are tired, her skin paler than usual.
I splash cold water on my face, hoping to wash away the lingering traces of nausea and fatigue. There's still been no call or message from the police. And no updates mean no progress. Every day that goes by without an ending to the Mason situation adds to my building frustration and anxiety, which is also not helping my physical health. I need something tangible; some progress to hold onto, but for now, there’s nothing.
Despite the waves of nausea that continue to come and go, I resign to stumble through yet another day steeped in uncertainty and continue to get ready for work. It doesn't take long, and with how early I woke up today, I'm left with too much time and nothing to fill it with.
I grab my phone and dial Julian's number, hoping his voice alone will provide me with some comfort.
Julian picks up almost immediately. "Hey, Nat," Julian greets, a hint of a smile in his voice. "What's up?"
"Hey, I was just calling to see if I could swing by. I need a change of scenery today. Is that okay?" I ask, trying to sound more upbeat than I feel.
"Of course, you're always welcome here," he responds warmly. "Actually, it’s good timing. Aria’s caught a cold and isn't feeling well, so she’s begging me to stay home with her. I'm still trying to figure out if I can swing that.” He makes a low, breathy sound, somewhere between a chuckle and a sigh. “Could you grab some breakfast on your way? We’re running a bit low on groceries."
I agree without hesitation, already thinking of the nearest café where I can pick up something fresh and comforting. "Sure thing. Any requests?"
"Just something easy. Aria might like some pastries or something light. Thanks, angel. I owe you."
Disconnecting the call, I grab my keys and head out, driving straight to the café. The morning rush is in full swing, but I manage to order quickly—some freshly baked pastries, a couple of fruit salads, a strong coffee for Julian, and an herbal tea for me, hoping it will help settle my stomach further.
When I arrive at Julian's, Aria is the first to greet me. Her small face is flushed with fever, her eyes bright when she sees the bag in my hand.
"Did you bring breakfast?" she asks, her voice raspy with congestion but filled with a child’s irrepressible optimism.
"I did," I confirm, smiling as I set down the bag and crouch to her level. "I got some pastries and fruit. Thought you might like something sweet."
Aria’s smile widens. "Thank you, Natalie!"
As we unpack the breakfast together, Julian comes into the kitchen, looking relieved but tired. His eyes soften when he sees me, and without a word, he comes over and gives me a quick, grateful kiss. It's a simple gesture, but it sends a warm pulse through the cool uncertainty of the morning.
"Thanks for this, Nat. It’s a big help," he says as he begins to help set the table. The tiredness in his eyes displays his challenges as a single parent. Was he up all night with Aria?
For what feels like the millionth time, thoughts of us parenting together flood my mind, and I force them out before my hormones have me weeping all over the muffins.
Aria, now animated by the prospect of breakfast, chatters between coughs, telling me about her favorite cartoons and asking if she can watch one while she eats. "Can I, Daddy? Natalie can watch with me!"
"Sure, kiddo," Julian agrees, casting me an apologetic glance that I wave off with a smile.
Aria switches on the television as Julian prepares some juice for her. I can't help but notice the beautiful domesticity of the scene. It's warm, comforting even, and for a moment, the outside worries—the threats, the uncertainty about Mason—seem distant. Here, in Julian’s kitchen, helping care for Aria, a sense of belonging wraps around me, unexpectedly poignant.
"How are you really doing, Nat?" Julian asks me quietly once Aria's attention has fully settled on the TV.
I pause, the weight of my secret, my morning sickness, and my genuine worry for him pressing on my chest. "It's been tough," I admit. "Being here, helping out—it helps. Makes me feel like I'm part of something good."
Julian's hand finds mine, squeezing it gently. "You are part of something good. You’re part of our lives, Nat. I'm really glad for that."
The simplicity and sincerity in his words bolster me more than any reassurance about safety or plans could. Emboldened by his declaration, I reach up to touch his cheek, tracing the line of his stubbled jaw with a tenderness that echoes my growing feelings for him. He responds instinctively, leaning into my touch. The deep affection in his eyes begins to shift, darkening into a hypnotic stare that makes my insides flutter.
As our faces draw closer, the space between us charged with anticipation, our lips meet in a kiss that fills the final piece of what I was missing this morning. The kiss intensifies quickly, driven by my need for him—his closeness, his strength and security—and his mirrored desire for me. Our hands explore, touching, holding, drawing each other closer still, the kitchen around us fading into a blur.
The moment stretches, delicious and intense, until a theatrical cough from Aria snaps us back to reality. We break apart, slightly breathless, to see Aria standing in the kitchen with both hands thrown dramatically over her eyes.
“That's so gross!" she declares, her tone playfully disgusted but her eyes twinkling with mischief.
Julian chuckles, a flush rising on his cheeks as he steps back, scratching the stubble along his jaw. "Sorry, sweetie," he says, though something tells me he isn't sorry at all.
Aria, however, doesn’t seem particularly unwell despite her cold. She bounces slightly on her feet, clearly not as affected by her illness as one might expect from a child supposedly too sick to stay home with a sitter. She looks up at Julian with a questioningly raised eyebrow. "Can I go to work with you today? I’m not that sick."
Julian’s expression drops suddenly, his protective wall thrown up in under a second. “That's out of the question, Aria. I told you that you're not allowed at the site for a while. That hasn't changed.”
I sense the tension rising in him again and quickly try to smooth things over. "She wasn’t challenging you, Julian," I interject gently. “It's really boring for kids to be stuck at home sometimes. The Price is Right doesn’t have the same draw these days."
Julian takes a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly at my attempt to joke, but his worry is palpable. "I know, but with everything going on... I just feel better having her stay at home where I know she's safe."
I nod, understanding his fear but also seeing how it could easily spiral. "You’re being a bit paranoid, Julian," I say, my voice soft but firm. "Aria is safe. She just wants to hang out with her daddy, that's all."
The word paranoid seems to strike a chord, and I watch as Julian closes off further, his face cold, posture stiffening. "Maybe," he admits grudgingly, but the acknowledgment is hollow, his tone suggesting he’s far from convinced but trying to avoid another fight.
Realizing I might have pushed too hard, I reach out, touching his arm. "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to?—"
But it's too late. Julian gently but firmly moves away from my touch, a clear sign he’s withdrawing into himself. "It’s fine, Natalie. I just want to do what’s best for Aria."
As he turns away to tend to Aria, who has now distracted herself with her drawings, I’m left standing alone, feeling the distance between us grow one again.
The warmth that had cocooned us in a brief sanctuary of affection seems distant now, as Julian's protective instincts rebuild the walls I thought we were slowly dismantling. My heart is heavy with the secret I carry, the knowledge of my pregnancy pressing against the seams of my resolve. How can I share something of this magnitude with him when the foundation between us still feels so uncertain?
With the absolute worst timing, I'm hit by another massive wave of nausea. Quietly, I excuse myself to the bathroom, trying not to be obvious in my rush. I lean against the sink, taking deep, steadying breaths. My stomach churns in time with my rising panic about our future, each egging the other on. I need to calm down, I don't want to be sick in Julian's home.
Just as the nausea begins to recede, a soft knock sounds on the door. "Natalie?” Aria's voice, laced with concern, pierces the quiet. “Do you need some more toilet paper?”
An involuntary smile tugs at my lips, "Thanks, Aria, but I'm okay. Just needed a little break, you know?"
"Okay,” she offers, totally unbothered by the fact we're talking through a bathroom door. “Do you want to color with me when you come out? I saved you the best crayon!" Her offer, so innocently made, tugs at my heart.
"That sounds perfect, Aria. I’ll be out in just a minute, and I can't wait to see what colors you’ve chosen for us," I reply, my voice warmer now, touched by her kindness and the simple, unguarded way children can bring light into complex situations.
As I splash water on my face and look up into the mirror, I see a woman caught on the brink of monumental change. Julian's concerns for Aria's safety, his guarded nature, his inherent need to protect—how will he react to knowing he’ll soon have another child to worry about? The thought both scares and excites me. It's always the unknown that's most terrifying in situations like these.
Stepping out of the bathroom, I find my resolve strengthened by Aria's cheerful invitation. I try to focus on the present—the coloring, the laughter, the shared moments that build the bonds we'll need to face whatever comes next. As I sit down next to Aria and accept the crayon she’s saved for me, I catch Julian's eye. There's a softness there; an unspoken apology, a reminder of the connection that still exists beneath the surface tensions.
"We'll figure this out, Julian," I say quietly, more to affirm my own commitment than to reassure him. "We have to take things one step at a time."
He nods, the lines of his face relaxing slightly. "One step at a time," he echoes, his voice low but not without warmth.
As we color, the simple act serving as a temporary bridge over troubled waters, I know that I can’t keep my secret much longer. The guilt of keeping my pregnancy hidden weighs heavier with each passing day. The time will come soon when I'll need to share my news with Julian, whether I’m ready or not.
When that moment arrives, I hope the foundation we are slowly rebuilding will be strong enough to support us all.