Chapter Eleven
Katie
All this time, I’ve been furious with Trent, thinking he’s been screening my calls, and it turns out the bitch Amanda just wanted him all to herself. It’s all so surreal, I can barely process it, but a part of me is soaring: Trent wanted to be with me this whole time.
And now I have to tell him the truth.
My hands sweat and my heart races. I feel like I might be sick, but I take a few deep breaths to calm myself down.
Trent keeps his hands on my arms. They’re gentle but firm. He’s waiting patiently for me to talk, to tell him whatever it is that I need to tell him.
“What’s going on, Katie?” he says softly. “Have you found someone else? I understand if you have...it’s been over a year, I didn’t expect you to—”
“No!” I say quickly. “That’s not it. I haven’t. There’s no one else.”
He breathes a sigh of relief. “Good. There’s no one else for me, either. That night we shared together…it changed me, sweetheart. I don’t want anyone else but you.”
I start to cry. Maybe it’s this overwhelming moment, maybe it’s the residual hormones from pregnancy, but I can’t help it. The tears fall freely.
Trent moves his hand from my arm and wipes a tear from under my eye.
“Talk to me, Katie. What’s going on?”
Another deep, shuddering breath. I can’t stop the crying, but Trent deserves answers.
“Last year, I tried to find you,” I tell him through my tears. “It was two months after our night together, and you hadn’t called me. I thought you weren’t interested, but…I wanted to talk to you. I had to.”
Trent remains quiet, his eyes trained on mine, open and warm. The man in front of me is nothing like the man I read about in the papers. He’s giving and gentle when he’s with me, not the ruthless billionaire without a conscience.
“I…Trent. Oh god, this is so hard.” I cover my face with my hands.
“Shh, it’s okay,” he soothes, rubbing my back. “Take your time.”
“I’m so sorry,” I start again. “Two months after that night, I realized that I…well, I’d missed my period. Sometimes when I’m working an important party, things get so hectic that I forget to take my birth control. It usually doesn’t matter because I don’t usually…well, nothing ever happens, and then we… and it never even occurred to me to tell you to use a condom.”
His face flashes with recognition, guilt, and fear.
“You were pregnant,” he finishes for me quietly, eyes wide. “I got you pregnant. You tried to find me?”
I nod, wiping my tears. “I called you so many times I should probably be on a stalker list. Then I went to your house looking for you, but your staff wouldn’t let me in. They said they’d tell you I came by.”
“They didn’t,” he says, face clouding over with anger. “Amanda…”
I take his hand and squeeze it. “I know. This isn’t your fault. If she hadn’t…if she hadn’t meddled and forced us apart, you would have known.”
His face falls. “You terminated the pregnancy?”
I don’t know how he came to that conclusion. Maybe it’s my sadness or the torn look on my face, but whatever it is, I need to fix it.
“No,” I assure him. “I didn’t.”
Stunned silence greets me then.
“So you had the baby?” he asks, his voice suddenly low and pressing.
I feel a pang in my heart. One of the reasons I gave up trying to contact Trent was my fear that he would want me to give up my child, or get rid of it. Seeing his urgency, I have no idea how I could have ever thought that.
“I didn’t lose the baby, Trent,” I say quietly, feeling jittery from nervousness. I take another deep breath before speaking. “You have a son.”
He stumbles backwards, his hand over his face. Every emotion possible registers on Trent’s face. Fear, anger, happiness, anguish. All of the things I felt when I first found out I was pregnant. I’ve had a year to process these emotions, and I lived them a million times over. Trent has had thirty seconds.
I grab his arm and guide him to a cushioned bench halfway down the hall. He takes the seat gratefully and leans his elbows on his knees, his face buried in his hands.
“I have a son,” he says out loud, testing the words. “A son. You kept the baby? You’ve done this on your own?”
“Yes,” I tell him. “I tried to find you. To tell you.” I can’t help but repeat that. I just want him to know that I tried, that I wanted him in our child’s life. That I didn’t keep him away from him.
“I know,” he says. “Amanda prevented me from knowing my son. That bitch. How old is he now?”
“Five months,” I say, smiling softly as I picture Trentie’s cute little face. “And amazing. Trentie’s the perfect baby.”
“Can I see him? Do you have photos?” he asks urgently.
I laugh. He’s so desperate, but it comes from a good place. Misreading my laugh, Trent recoils, his expression clearly hurt.
I get on my knees in front of him, forcing him to meet my eyes. “I have so many pictures that I had to get a phone with more memory,” I say. “That’s why I laughed. Of course you can see him, Trent. He’s your son, too.”
I pull my phone out and open my camera roll. I grin at the first photo I see, baby Trentie smiling up at the camera with a string of drool hanging down his mouth. I snapped more photos of him than any human should take of another human, but I love having these memories to hold on to. They’ll be great for when he starts dating and I want to embarrass him.
I hand Trent the phone, and his troubled face breaks into a genuine smile. I can’t help but notice that his smile is just like his baby boy’s grin. It took seeing Trent Moore again for me to realize just how much our son looks like him.
Our son. I can definitely get used to saying that. Front now on, even if Trent doesn’t want to be with me, he will have a part in his son’s life for as long as he wants. I can tell by the way he scrolls through the photos with tears forming in his eyes that he cares about the boy he’s never even met.
“I want,” he starts, but the words are strangled by a sob. I’ve reduced this strong man to tears. Or, more accurately, our baby has done this. “I want to meet him. Can I?” He looks at me hopefully with shining eyes.
“Of course,” I say, my hand on his arm. Touching him feels right and intimate. I’ve missed even the innocent touches with Trent. “Let me tell Lizzy I’m leaving. They can handle the rest of the cleanup without me. They’re likely almost done.”
“I’ll wait here, if you don’t mind.” He stands and wipes his eyes, attempting to regain the composure he lost. I smile and pull him in for a hug. Immediately the air sizzles at our contact, and I step back dazed.
“Um, let me just find my people,” is my stammer before tottering away. Fortunately, Lizzy’s nearby leading the final cleanup tasks.
“Whoa,” she says when she sees me. “You look like a mess. What happened?”
“Nothing,” I tell her with a reassuring smile. “I’m fine, I promise. Better than fine, actually. I’ll tell you about it later, but I’ve got to get home to my baby boy now. Will you be okay handling the cleanup with the rest of the crew?”
“Don’t you worry about a thing, girl,” Lizzy says, squeezing my arm. “Get home safely, okay? And give baby Trent a big juicy kiss for me.” She gives me a smile and a wink.
I return her smile. “I will. Thank you, Lizzy. For everything. I’ll see you next week.”
I find Trent where I left him in the hallway, still processing the fact that he’s a father. I remember when we were getting to know each other that night, he made a joke about no kids that he knew of. It’s almost as if he predicted what was to come. Oh, the irony.
“Shall we?” I ask him. “I can drive.”
“Thanks. I already told my driver he could go home.”
And with that, we smile at one another, our hearts meeting in the evening gloom. Because we’re going to see our son now, the miraculous being who was created from one night of passion. And in my soul, I can feel that everything’s going to be okay. Trentie will meet his father, and somehow, my man and I will work things out because it’s our need to be together that’s gotten us here. And slowly but surely, we will find our future … just the three of us.