Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Winter
Four days after Knox and I reconciled in his office, I'm standing on the twelfth floor of the Tribeca development, clipboard in hand, going over finish details with Tom and two of the contractors.
The model unit is complete. Every detail I designed has come to life exactly as I envisioned it. The marble floors gleam under the recessed lighting, the custom millwork frames the windows perfectly, and the kitchen fixtures are installed and polished to perfection.
It's stunning.
Jenna and Samir from my studio are here with me, taking final measurements and photographs for our portfolio. Jenna is snapping photos of the living room while Samir measures the dining area to confirm the custom table we ordered will fit.
"The penthouse units should be ready for your walk-through by next week," Tom says, showing me the updated timeline on his tablet.
"We're just waiting on the light fixtures to arrive from Italy."
I nod, making a note on my clipboard.
"Good. And the lobby finishes?"
"Almost done. Another three days, tops."
I glance down at my notes but the words blur slightly. A wave of nausea rolls through me and I press my hand to my stomach.
Not now.
I've been feeling off for the past week. Nausea in the mornings. Fatigue that doesn't go away no matter how much I sleep. I chalked it up to stress. The drama with Rowan, the intensity of my relationship with Knox, the pressure of finishing this project on time.
I reach into my bag and pull out a ginger tablet, slipping it into my mouth and letting it dissolve on my tongue.
"Winter, you okay?" Jenna asks, looking up from her camera.
"I'm fine. Just a little tired."
She doesn't look convinced but she goes back to taking photos.
Tom continues talking about the timeline and I force myself to focus. We discuss the remaining punch list items, the final inspections, the move-in date for the first residents.
"I need to grab the updated material samples from my bag," I say, turning toward where I left it near the kitchen island.
I take two steps and bend down to reach into my bag.
Then I stand up.
Too quickly.
The room tilts violently. My vision tunnels, everything going dark at the edges. I try to steady myself but my legs give out.Then everything goes black.
I wake up to the sound of beeping...
My eyes flutter open and I'm staring at a white ceiling. Fluorescent lights. The sharp smell of antiseptic.
Hospital.
I try to sit up but my head is pounding.
"Easy," a voice says beside me.
"You're okay. Just take it slow."
I turn my head and see a woman in scrubs standing next to the bed. A nurse.
"What happened?" My voice comes out hoarse.
"You fainted at a construction site," the nurse says gently.
"Your colleagues called 911. You're at Mount Sinai."
Fainted.
I remember standing up too quickly. The room spinning. Then nothing.
"How long have I been here?"
"About an hour. The doctor will be in shortly to talk to you."
The nurse checks my vitals, adjusts something on the IV in my arm that I didn't notice until now, and then leaves the room.
I lie back against the pillows and close my eyes.
A few minutes later, the door opens again.
A woman in a white coat enters. She's in her forties, dark hair pulled back in a bun, kind eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses.
"Miss Hayes, I'm Dr. Patel. How are you feeling?"
"Okay, I guess. A little dizzy still."
Dr. Patel pulls up a chair beside my bed and sits down.
"You gave your colleagues quite a scare. Do you remember what happened?"
"I stood up too fast and everything went black."
She nods, making a note on her tablet.
"We ran some tests while you were unconscious. Blood work, checked your vitals." She pauses.
"We also ran a pregnancy test."
My heart stops.
"The results came back positive," Dr. Patel says, her voice gentle.
"You're pregnant."
The words don't register at first.
Pregnant.
I stare at her, unable to speak.
"Were you aware of this?" she asks.
I shake my head slowly. "No. I didn't know."
Dr. Patel sets down her tablet.
"Have you been sexually active?"
"Yes." The word comes out barely above a whisper.
"Are you with a partner?"
I nod, but my mind is racing.
"How far along am I?" I ask, my voice shaking.
"Without an ultrasound, it's hard to say for certain," Dr. Patel explains.
"Based on your hormone levels, I'd estimate around four weeks. But we'll need to schedule an ultrasound to get accurate dating and make sure everything is progressing normally."
I feel tears welling up in my eyes.
"I also want to talk to you about taking better care of yourself," Dr. Patel continues.
"You're severely dehydrated and your blood sugar is very low. For a healthy pregnancy, you need to eat regularly, stay hydrated, and get adequate rest. Do you understand?"
I nod but I'm not really hearing her.
"Are you okay, Miss Hayes?" Dr. Patel's voice brings me back.
"I know this is a lot to take in."
I look up at her. "Yeah. I guess I'm okay."
There's a knock at the door, and a nurse pokes her head in.
"Dr. Patel, there's someone here asking about Miss Hayes. Knox Sterling?"
My heart races.
Knox.
Dr. Patel looks at me. "Would you like me to send him in?"
I take a shaky breath. "Yes."
Dr. Patel stands.
"I'll be back in about thirty minutes. We can discuss next steps then." She pauses at the door.
"Take your time. This is a big moment."
Then she leaves. I sit up slightly in the bed, wiping at my eyes, trying to pull myself together.
The door opens again. Knox walks in and my breath catches.
He looks terrified. His face is pale, his hair slightly disheveled like he's been running his hands through it.
His eyes are wide with worry as he crosses the room in three long strides.
He leans down and kisses my forehead.
"Oh my god. What happened? Are you okay?"
His voice is tight with concern.
"I'm fine," I say, but my voice shakes.
"I'm fine. Really."
Knox pulls the chair closer to the bed and sits down, taking my hand in his.
"Tom called me. He said you passed out on the site and they had to call an ambulance. He said you just collapsed."
"I stood up too fast. I got dizzy."
Knox's grip on my hand tightens.
"Are you sure you're okay? What did the doctor say?"
I look down at our joined hands.
"Knox, I'm fine. Really."
"Don't do that," Knox says firmly.
"Don't shut me out."
There's a long pause. I can feel him watching me, waiting. I force myself to meet his eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes that are full of love and concern and fear all at once.
"I'm pregnant," I whisper.
Knox freezes. His entire body goes still. His hand is still holding mine but he doesn't move. Doesn't speak. Doesn't even seem to breathe.
He just stares at me. The silence stretches between us, heavy and suffocating. Then my voice cracks and the tears I've been holding back spill over.
"I don't know if I'm ready for this. I don't know what I want."
Knox finally speaks, his voice low and strained.
"What do you mean you don't know what you want?"
"A baby. This. Us." I'm crying harder now, the words tumbling out.
"Everything is moving so fast and I don't know—I don't know if I can do this."
Knox stands abruptly, pulling his hand away from mine. He runs both hands through his hair and turns away from the bed.
"Knox, please," I say through my tears.
"Say something."
He doesn't turn around.
"I need a minute."
Then he walks to the door, pulls it open, and leaves. The door closes behind him with a soft click. I'm left alone in the hospital room, tears streaming down my face, my hand pressed to my stomach where a baby is growing. And I have no idea what I'm going to do.
Ten minutes pass. I sit alone in the hospital room, wiping at my tears, trying to pull myself together. Then the door opens again as Knox walks back in.
He doesn't say anything at first. He just crosses the room and sits on the edge of the hospital bed beside me. His weight shifts the mattress slightly and I feel the warmth of him next to me. He takes a deep breath and stares down at his hands.
"I'm terrified," Knox says quietly.
"I've never thought about kids. I lost hope that it would even be an option for me, just because of my track record." He pauses.
"And also, I didn't want to become my father."
I watch him, my chest tight. Knox lifts his head and looks at me.
"But if you're asking me what I want—"
He reaches out and takes my hand in his.
"I want you," Knox says, his voice steady now.
"I want this baby. I want a life with you that doesn't involve hiding or pretending or worrying about what my family thinks."
My breath catches.
"Knox—"
"I love you," he interrupts, his blue eyes locked on mine.
"I'm in love with you. And if you want this baby, I'm all in. Nothing has changed from what I said before. I'll support whatever you decide. But I need you to know that I'm here. I'm not leaving."
Tears spill down my cheeks again, but this time they're different. Not from fear or uncertainty, but from relief.
"I want this," I whisper, my voice breaking.
"I'm just scared."
Knox squeezes my hand. "So am I. But we'll figure it out."
He leans forward and cups my face in his hands, wiping away my tears with his thumbs. Then he kisses me. It's soft and gentle and full of everything we haven't said. A promise. A commitment. A future. When we pull apart, Knox rests his forehead against mine.
"Come home with me tonight," he says quietly.
"Let me take care of you."
I nod against him. "Okay."
Knox pulls back and brushes a strand of hair from my face. Then he stands and pulls the chair closer to the bed, sitting down but keeping my hand in his. We sit in silence for a while, just holding hands, both of us processing everything that's happened.
About forty-five minutes later, there's a knock at the door. Dr. Patel enters with a small smile.
"How are we doing?"
"Better," I say.
She glances at Knox, then back at me.
"Good. I have your discharge papers ready. You're cleared to go home, but I want to give you some instructions first."
Dr. Patel pulls up a chair and goes through everything methodically. She hands me a prescription for prenatal vitamins and explains how to take them. She talks about staying hydrated, eating small meals throughout the day to combat nausea, getting plenty of rest.
"I want you to schedule a follow-up appointment with your OB-GYN within the next two weeks," Dr. Patel says.
"They'll do an ultrasound to confirm dating and make sure everything is progressing normally."
I nod, taking it all in.
"Do you have any questions?" Dr. Patel asks.
I glance at Knox, then back at her.
"Not right now. I think I'm still processing."
Dr. Patel smiles kindly.
"That's completely understandable. This is a big change. But you're healthy, the baby is fine, and you have support." She looks at Knox when she says that last part.
"That's what matters."
She stands and hands me the discharge papers.
"Take care of yourself, Miss Hayes. And congratulations."
Then she leaves.
A nurse comes in a few minutes later to remove my IV and go over the final discharge instructions. Knox helps me stand and steadies me when I sway slightly.
"You okay?" he asks, his hand on my lower back.
"Yeah. Just a little lightheaded still."
He keeps his hand there as we walk slowly out of the room and down the hallway toward the elevator.
We don't talk on the way down or as we walk through the hospital lobby. Knox's driver is waiting outside at the curb and he opens the door for us. Knox helps me into the backseat and then slides in beside me.
As the car pulls away from Mount Sinai, Knox reaches over and takes my hand again. I look at him and he looks back at me. We don't say anything. We don't need to. Everything has changed.
And for the first time in a very long time, I'm not scared of what comes next.