“Mom, hey. Where are you guys? What? Is he okay? Do you need me to come? I can stop by and pick you something up for dinner. Are you sure? Yes, I promise I’ll have them to print you off a picture too. Sure. Yeah. I love you too. Bye.”
Abby turned to Tristan, frowning. “Daddy has a migraine. Mom just got him home from the doctor. She had to take him in for an injection.”
“I’m sorry.”
She shrugged. “Me too. But it happens. They aren’t usually bad enough for him to go to the doctor, though.”
“Was he upset over me being with you?”
“No. I hadn’t told them yet. They know we see each other and spend a lot of time together, but I hadn’t told them I asked you to be there too.”
“Oh.” That bought him a little time, at least.
“Well, I guess we’d better be going. It may be a little difficult to find parking at the office around lunch.”
Tristan palmed his keys and smiled. “I’m ready when you are.”
~
Luckily, there was parking close to the entrance but that didn’t mean a damned thing. Abby checked in forty-five minutes ago and hadn’t been seen yet. Tristan looked around the waiting room and saw women who had been there just as long as they had.
This is just ridiculous.
Abby looked up at him with those beautiful blue eyes. “Are you okay? You seem more nervous than me.”
He immediately calmed. “I’m fine. It’s just this whole concept of waiting on health care.”
She fought a laugh. “Technically, my appointment was only ten minutes ago. Someone, and I’m not naming names, got us here in record time.” She put her hand on his arm. “Besides, I’m kind of glad there aren’t express lanes here. I want the doctors to take their time and get a good look at him.”
“Abby Daniels.”
Tristan’s heart started pounding. I’m about to see my son.
Abby stood. “Are you sure about going back with me?”
“There is nowhere I would rather be.”
~
Abby laughed as the sonographer applied the gel. “It tickles.”
The woman chuckled. “Sorry. At least it’s warm though. When my oldest child was born, I swear they stored this gel in cryofreeze before they used it on pregnant women.”
Abby cringed. “You would have to peel me off the ceiling if this stuff was cold.”
“Oh honey, I did. Trust me.” She turned to Tristan, who stood beside the bed like Abby’s guard dog. “Do you want to have a seat or should I have her move over?”
Tristan turned a bright shade of pink. “Where should I sit?”
“I’ll be working down here and, sorry, you can’t have my seat. Pull a seat up from the corner and sit by Mom’s head.”
Tristan did as asked, and Abby smiled expectantly. She reached out for his hand and noticed a slight tremble as he wrapped his fingers around hers. “How are you doing?”
“Excited to see my little boy.”
“Okay, guys, it’s show time.” The tech applied the wand and the room filled with a whoosh whoosh sound.
“What is that?”
“It’s the baby’s heartbeat.”
Abby looked at Tristan as he stared at the monitor. “That’s him?”
“Sure is. That’s his leg.” The word femur popped up on the screen as the technologist typed. “Abby, his femur length is about a week or two ahead of schedule. Looks like you may have a basketball player on your hands.”
“He’s going to be tall.”
Tristan squeezed her hand. Sharing this experience with him was incredible. He watched the screen with fascination. She smiled, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“And here is the boy shot. There is the turtle.”
~
Tristan wished he could make out the baby’s different parts, but everything looked like a gray blob. The technician worked her way up to the heart and stopped there. All other sound stopped except for the rapid thump thump. Tristan’s vision blurred as he watched the rhythmical movement of his son’s heart.
“That is amazing.”
Abby’s fingers tightened around his, and he looked down to see her crying. Tristan leaned over, his lips by her ear. “He’s perfect, Abby. You’ve done so well.”
She rewarded him with a smile and mouthed thank you.
The technician finished and stood, print outs in hand. Her face was neutral, her earlier humor gone. “I’m going to go grab the doctor and I’ll be right back.”
Abby leaned up as best she could. “Is there something wrong?”
“Nothing for you to worry about. I just think I see a little extra fluid and I want the doctor to double check.”
As the door closed, Abby looked up at Tristan with worry. “Extra fluid? What could that be?”
Wrapping his arms around Abby, he stared at the door. “I don’t know. But before we leave, we’re going to find out.”
~
“Abby, why did you miss your glucose tolerance test?”
She looked at Dr. Reynolds. “I asked to reschedule that morning because I was vomiting. I was told someone would call me back with the new date.”
“Do you remember who you spoke with?”
“No. I was fairly sick that day. Sorry.”
“Mmm. Okay, here’s the deal. You’ve had some high normal glucose tests here in the office and the ultrasound clearly shows polyhydramnios, which is basically an excess amount of amniotic fluid. I think you’ve probably got gestational diabetes.”
Tristan stiffened, and Abby nodded. “My mom had it with me. What about the baby? Did everything look good with him?”
“He looked fine, but we are going to monitor you for the rest of your pregnancy. There are risks with polydramnios.”
Abby took a deep breath. “Such as?”
“It could resolve on its own, but there are other possibilities, such as cord prolapse, premature birth, early rupturing of membranes, placental abruption.” Tristan felt sick and Abby looked the same. Dr. Reynolds noticed and patted her on the shoulder. “But we will monitor you closely. Now, you need to come in first thing tomorrow for a glucose tolerance test. It’s going to take a while, so bring a book or something to keep you occupied. They will get you set up at the front and I want to see you back next week for your regularly scheduled appointment.”
“Thanks, Dr. Reynolds.”
“Hold on.” Tristan stepped forward to block him from leaving, if necessary. If this man tried to get out the door, he was going to have six-and-a-half feet of pissed-off man to deal with. “Why can’t you test her now?”
“Because the first reading is taken fasting, and I assume Abby has eaten today.” He glanced at her for confirmation.
She nodded. “I have.”
“Well then, we need to wait until the morning.” Dr. Reynolds turned his gaze on Tristan. “But I agree on getting this done sooner than later.”
“You’ll let us know when you have the results,” Tristan demanded in a voice that brooked no argument.
“Abby will know the results tomorrow.”
With that, Dr. Reynolds walked out and Abby put her hand on Tristan’s arm. “Can we get out of here? I need to cry.”
“Absolutely.” He held her hand as they walked to the front, knowing exactly what she meant. He felt scared enough to cry, too.
~
Abby sighed as she pressed end call.
“What did he say?”
“Definitely gestational diabetes, but it should be manageable by diet. Which means no sugar, watch my carbohydrates. I also have to start monitoring my blood sugar. Basically, I have to eliminate everything from my diet that I’ve been craving.” She looked toward her kitchen. “I should send my stash with you to get rid of the temptation.”
Tristan wasn’t very happy about the thought of leaving her here alone. If he had his way, the stash would be safe because she would be at his house. “What sort of contraband are you hiding?”
�
�Snickers, Reese’s and Goobers.”
He arched an eyebrow and grinned. “Are you concerned the Georgia peanut industry isn’t turning a profit?”
Abby cracked a smile. “Seems like it, huh.” She flopped down on the couch and put her hand on her belly. Tristan sat beside her. “Thank goodness the baby is doing well.”
“Yes, he is.” Ehron had an uncanny ability to show up just when Tristan needed him most, and last night, the angel spent the better part of an hour assuring him that both Abby and the baby were fine. Abby laid her head on his shoulder and Tristan closed his eyes, savoring her closeness.
“Thank you for spending so much time with me the past couple of days.” She nuzzled her cheek against his shoulder. “Having someone with me has made this easier.”
I’m never leaving you again.
“Abby, look at me.” She raised her head. “There is nowhere I would rather be.” Tristan kissed her and the first touch of his lips on hers felt like coming home.
Abby responded, softly moaning into his mouth and Tristan deepened the kiss.
He felt her hand on his shoulder, pulling him closer. She wants this. He turned, so he could ease her back on the couch and pulled back so he could see her face.
“Tristan.” Abby’s eyes were bright and her lips parted, her chest heaving with each breath.
“Do you want this, Abby?” Please God, let her want it.
“More than anything.”
Tristan lowered his head and kissed her neck. She arched her back and turned her head to the side to allow him better access. Kissing her neck always drove Abby wild, and her panting breaths let him know she loved what he was doing.
He kissed until he got to the top of her shirt, and she brought her trembling fingers up to the first button. Tristan watched in fascination as her shirt opened and her body became exposed. Abby’s skin was as flawless as he remembered, her breasts a bit fuller. The cups on the bra were modest but not demure enough to hide her beauty. She looked up hesitantly, as if questioning his opinion on her pregnant body.
“Abby,” he said as he ran his fingers lightly over the lacing edging of the bra, “you are beautiful.”
Silently, she let her actions answer him as she tugged on his shirt. Tristan swiftly pulled it over his head and tossed it to the side. He kissed her again, nipping at her bottom lip lightly before exploring her mouth with his tongue. He palmed her breasts and she moaned.
He pulled back. “Are they sensitive?”
She nodded enthusiastically, her eyes glazed over with desire. “Yes.”
“Should I stop?”
“Don’t you dare.”
Abby ran her fingers through his hair and whispered words of encouragement. Tristan scooped her up. She looked at him in surprise until she realized he was going to the hall.
“Last door on the left.”
He nodded and kept going, thinking of the many times he had walked down this very same hall with Abby in his arms, only this time, the circumstances were completely different. Tristan got to the door of the bedroom and paused briefly. The bed where he spent another life making love to Abby was a looming presence.
That doesn’t matter. Making love to her as Tristan is what matters. His feet carried them both to the bed and he lowered Abby slowly.
“Don’t let me go.”
“Never.” Tristan took a deep breath and prepared himself. Expectations and rules be damned, he was going to say Abby, I love you. I’ll never leave you again.
The doorbell rang. They both turned and stared toward the bedroom door.
“Are you expecting anyone?”
Abby shook her head, her eyes widened. “No.”
Tristan stood, and Abby got off the bed. The doorbell continued to ring and soon a rapid knocking accompanied the bell.
“That’s my mom’s knock,” Abby whispered, “and our clothes are in there.”
“Come on.” Tristan walked quietly back to the den and said a silent prayer of thanks. When they were building, he’d talked Abby out of the windows on each side of the door so no one would be able to see in. Now, her mom would not get a clear view of the lack of clothes on Abby and Tristan. That damned knock had been the bane of his existence years ago. Diane once had the uncanny ability to interrupt her newlywed daughter’s sex life and David had cursed that evil knock under his breath every time it happened.
“Your shirt is on inside out,” Abby whispered as she headed for the door. Tristan corrected his mistake and Abby took a deep breath before she turned the knob.
“Mom, hey! What are you doing here?”
Diane quickly kissed Abby on the cheek and patted her belly before entering. “Your daddy was spewing like a faucet last night. I would’ve called but I was so tired, I fell asleep as soon as he dozed off. We decided to pop by today so we could—”
Diane stopped speaking as she saw Tristan in the den. He smiled and waved hello as Jackson walked through the door behind her.
“Mom, Daddy, this is Tristan. Tristan, these are my parents, Jackson and Diane Adams.”
No one spoke for a tense moment then Tristan took the first step. He smiled and approached her mother with his hand extended. “Diane, it is very nice to meet you.”
“Uh huh.” Her mom shook his hand quickly, hesitantly, before glancing at her daughter with wide-eyed concern.
Tristan ignored that and shook her father’s hand. “Jackson, it’s nice to meet you as well.”
Jackson’s hand shake was firm, almost painfully so, as if the man were reminding Tristan that Abby was his daughter.
“Likewise. Let’s say we all come in here, have a seat, and my baby girl can start things off by telling me just why the hell you’re here.”
~
Diane excused herself to the kitchen under the pretense of making everyone some tea and summoned Abby for help.
Obviously, no one had clued Diane in to the fact that her voice carried when she was upset and Diane started her questioning off with, “Good Lord, Abigail, he looks like, well, he's handsome, but he looks scary. God, he's probably on an FBI watch list. What’s he doing here in Atlanta?”
Tristan could picture Abby rolling her eyes. Knowing her mom’s voice had been overheard, Abby didn’t bother lowering hers.
“He’s a peach terrorist, Mother. He and his people from their terror-plagued nation of Spain have plotted to take over Georgia for our peach crop. I’m lucky you got here when you did. He’s been asking an awful lot about Grandpa’s farm, and I’m getting suspicious about him.”
Tristan chuckled as Diane chided her daughter, but when he looked up, Jackson was giving him a death glare.
Tristan quickly sobered and held up his hands. “I’m not a terrorist, I swear.”
“Oh, I believe you,” Jackson took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “I also know damned good and well who you are: Tristan Ramirez, CEO of TER Holdings. Nobody knows much about your personal life, but in the business world, people are wary of you. When you start looking at businesses to buy, company presidents tend to do things like jump out of fifteen story windows. And now you’re here with my recently-widowed, very pregnant daughter, and you didn’t even have the decency to comb your hair after doing whatever it was you were doing when we got here.” Jackson’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t like you, don’t want you anywhere around my baby and would gladly buy you a ticket to get the hell out of Georgia. So you just tell me why you’re here, and what you’re doing with Abby.”
Tristan would do anything for Abby. He had angels breaking rules and, he was, basically, defying the natural order of things just to get more time with her. But, though he understood the animosity, he wasn’t going to stand by and let Abby get scared off by her parents.
“Abby and I were attending the same survivors’ group. My wife died.”
Jackson’s facial expression softened, briefly. “My condolences.”
“Thank you.”
“You met at this group and she approached you?”
/> “No. She had an open seat beside her, and I took it.”
“Uh huh. And there were no more open seats?” Jackson accentuated his words by making a circular motion with his fingers.
“Abby looked like she could use a friend.”
“And that would be you? Look now, Tristan,” Jackson spat out his name like it was profanity, “you aren’t exactly known as the friendly type. What would make you want to change your ways for my daughter?”
Take a deep breath, count to three. “Mr. Adams, do you harass everyone in Abby’s life or did I just draw the short straw today?”
Jackson’s nostrils flared. “Whenever I encounter a corporate mogul who’s made billions by decimating other people’s businesses, I most certainly ask questions.”
Tristan’s frustration grew, but he maintained his calm. “Actually, I believe I said harass and, if you’re honest with yourself, you’ll admit that’s what you’re doing here. We have one thing in common. Abby. We both want her to be happy. That being said, I can respect your position because you have raised one hell of a woman. If I lived two more lifetimes, I couldn’t be half the person Abby is.” Jackson had no clue how literal Tristan’s words were. “But I will not tolerate you destroying my character because with her, for her and beside her, I’m a different person. I’m not the CEO, I’m the man who cares deeply for this woman you raised. So if we can come to some sort of mutual understanding here, I would like for us to be friends. But,” Tristan made eye contact with Jackson, “regardless of your opinion of me at the end of this conversation, I,” he pointed to himself, “am here because Abby means a great deal to me. Does it matter to me that your wife thinks I’m a terrorist or that you have me pegged as the reincarnation of Dahmer? Not one damned bit.”
Jackson sat slack-jawed, taking in everything Tristan said.
“Can you do it? For Abby?”
Jackson leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “I don’t like you.”
“There are days I don’t like myself very much either. But again, I ask, can you put up with me, if I can make her happy?”
Tristan's Redemption Page 9