CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The sharp, biting winds of late February whipped across the Rhode Island coastline, churning the gray waters of the Atlantic into a frenzy of whitecaps.
Inside the private examination room of Boston’s premier obstetric clinic, however, the atmosphere was a cocoon of quiet, climate-controlled warmth.
Kennedy lay back on the examination table, the crisp paper crinkling softly beneath her.
At six months pregnant, the swell of her stomach was beautifully pronounced beneath the soft knit of her cream-colored sweater.
Grayson sat in the low chair beside the head of the table, his elbows resting on his knees, his eyes fixed intently on the flickering, high-definition monitor mounted on the wall.
"Everything is measuring perfectly," Dr. Evans murmured, gliding the transducer expertly over Kennedy’s abdomen.
A rhythmic, rapid whoosh-whoosh-whoosh filled the dim room.
"Heartbeat is strong. Brain development, spine, limbs...
it is all exactly where we want it to be.
You have a very healthy, very active baby in there. "
A synchronized wave of relief washed over both Kennedy and Grayson. Grayson let out a long, shaky breath, leaning back in his chair, while Kennedy offered the doctor a genuine, radiant smile.
"Thank you, Doctor," Kennedy said softly.
Dr. Evans tapped a few keys on the console, freezing an image on the screen.
She turned her head, looking between the two of them with a warm, knowing smile.
"Now, I know we bypassed this at the twenty-week mark, but the positioning today is undeniable.
Would the two of you like to know the baby's gender? "
Kennedy turned her head to look at Grayson.
Neither of them had a strong preference.
From the very beginning, their only prayer had been for a healthy child.
Kennedy would have been genuinely thrilled to raise a daughter, and Grayson felt the exact same way about a son.
Left to their own devices, they might have happily waited until the birth.
But left to their own devices was a luxury they did not possess.
Grayson raised an eyebrow, a quiet, shared amusement passing between them as they simultaneously recalled the sheer, unadulterated chaos of that morning.
Before Grayson had even pulled his car around to the front of the Lockhart estate, both sets of parents had cornered them in the foyer.
Arthur and John had demanded to know what color paint to order for the adjoining playrooms, while Margaret and Eleanor had waved fabric swatches in their faces, insisting that neutral tones were simply not sufficient for their first grandchild.
And then there were Spencer and Ryder. The two future uncles had practically blocked the driveway, aggressively insisting that they needed to know the gender immediately so they could begin purchasing the appropriate miniature sports cars or ponies.
"If we go back to Rhode Island without an answer," Grayson murmured, the corner of his mouth ticking upward into a wry smile, "I am fairly certain my brother will lock the gates and refuse to let my car onto the property."
Kennedy let out a soft, genuine laugh, the sound warming the quiet room. "He absolutely will. And my mother will likely forge my medical release forms to get the results herself. We had better find out."
Dr. Evans chuckled, tapping her stylus against the screen. "Well, then, you can tell the uncles to start buying blue. You are having a baby boy."
Grayson’s breath caught in his throat. A boy. He stared at the screen, a brilliant, unrestrained joy breaking across his face. He looked down at Kennedy, his eyes shining with an emotion so deep it threatened to overwhelm him.
"A boy," Kennedy whispered, her hazel eyes locked onto the monitor, her heart swelling with a fiercely protective love.
"A son," Grayson echoed, his voice thick with reverence. He didn't reach out to touch her—he never crossed the boundaries she had set—but the sheer, shared delight bridging the space between them was undeniable.
The drive back down the coast was peaceful.
The heater in Grayson’s Aston Martin hummed a quiet counterpoint to the classical music playing softly through the speakers.
They didn't speak much, both wrapped in the comfortable, quiet happiness of the news, the confirmation of their son’s health settling over them like a warm blanket.
But the peace lasted only until Grayson pulled the car to a stop beneath the sprawling stone portico of the Lockhart estate.
Grayson had barely killed the engine before the front doors of the manor swung wide open. He stepped out into the freezing wind, quickly walking around the hood to open Kennedy’s door, offering his hand to help her navigate the icy stone steps.
They didn't even make it across the threshold.
Standing in the grand foyer, forming an impenetrable, vibrating wall of anticipation, were Margaret, John, Eleanor, and Arthur. Flanking them like a pair of impatient sentinels were Spencer and Ryder.
"Well?" Margaret demanded, stepping forward before Grayson had even closed the front door behind them. "Don't just stand there shedding cold air into the house. What did Dr. Evans say?"
"Is the baby healthy?" Eleanor asked urgently, her hands clasped tightly together.
"Of course the baby is healthy, look at them, they're smiling," Ryder interrupted, waving a hand dismissively at his mother before zeroing in on Grayson. "What is it? Did you ask? Tell me you asked."
Grayson paused on the black-and-white marble, shielding Kennedy slightly from the onslaught. He looked at the six expectant faces staring back at him, letting out an exasperated sigh.
"Hello to you too," Grayson said, his voice dripping with dry, amused disbelief. "Yes, the drive back was fine. Yes, we are freezing. Could you all possibly step back and let the mother of my child catch her breath before you interrogate us?"
"Nobody cares about you right now, Grayson," Spencer deadpanned, crossing his arms over his chest, his blue eyes focused on his sister. "You are merely the transportation. Move out of the way. Kennedy, what are we having?"
Kennedy burst into laughter. It was a bright, unrestrained sound that echoed off the crystal chandeliers overhead. She unbuttoned her wool coat, shaking her head at the sheer ridiculousness of their families.
"Everything is fine," Grayson relented, a smile finally breaking through his mock-irritation. He looked at the eager faces of their parents. "The baby is perfectly healthy. And we are having a boy."
The foyer erupted.
Eleanor let out a sharp, joyful shriek, throwing her arms around Margaret’s neck. Arthur and John immediately clapped each other on the back, their booming, triumphant laughter shaking the portraits on the walls.
"A boy!" Arthur declared, his voice echoing with patriarchal pride. "A grandson! John, we need to call the brokers tomorrow morning. We need to set up the secondary trust funds immediately."
"Forget the trust funds, we need to finalize the school applications," Margaret insisted, pulling back from Eleanor, her aristocratic mind already moving ten years into the future. "The waitlists for the primary academies in Boston are absurd. We must register his name by next week."
While the grandparents immediately spiraled into a chaotic debate over real estate, education, and nursery color palettes, Spencer and Ryder had squared off in the center of the foyer.
"I am buying him his first set of golf clubs," Ryder announced, pointing a finger at Spencer. "And I am taking him to the track. You can teach him how to read, I am teaching him how to drive."
"You drive like a reckless idiot," Spencer shot back, unbothered. "I am buying him a sailboat. A Lockhart man needs to know the ocean before he knows the pavement."
"He is an Ashford too!" Ryder argued loudly, the fraternal competition instantly flaring to life. "He is getting a sports car!"
Kennedy walked past the arguing uncles, shaking her head in amusement, and made her way into the warmth of the grand drawing room.
A fire was roaring in the hearth, casting a golden glow over the plush velvet sofas and mahogany tables.
She sank into her favorite armchair near the heat, resting her hands over her stomach, a serene, settled smile gracing her lips.
Grayson followed her in seamlessly. While the rest of the family continued their loud, joyful debate in the hallway, his entire focus remained, exclusively on her.
He moved to the sofa, picking up a folded cashmere throw blanket. "Are you warm enough?" he asked softly, stepping near her chair.
"I am fine, Grayson," Kennedy smiled, though she didn't object when he gently draped the blanket over her lap, ensuring it covered her legs.
"Do you want me to have Thomas bring you some tea?" Grayson pressed, his eyes scanning her face for any sign of fatigue. "Or water? The doctor said you need to stay hydrated. Was the drive too long? You look a little tired."
"Grayson," Kennedy said gently, looking up at him. "I promise, I am perfectly fine."
Grayson nodded, taking a reluctant step back, settling into the armchair opposite hers.
He could hardly take his eyes off her. Now that he had truly begun to understand the depth of his own feelings for her, the need to be near her was a constant, living ache in his chest. He wanted to pull her into his arms. He wanted to kiss her.
He wanted to claim his place not just as the father of her child, but as her partner.
But he knew better than to push for more than she was willing to give him.
He accepted the boundaries, content to simply exist in her orbit.