She typed Tristan Ramirez wife and a full screen of links popped up. She clicked the one to an accident report from the Atlanta Journey and Constitution, and gasped when she saw the article.
David Alexander Daniels, local attorney, was killed Tuesday when he was struck by a car driven by Lydia Estevan. Estevan’s vehicle stopped when she rear-ended a delivery truck. Daniels and Estevan were both pronounced dead at the scene. According to police, alcohol and speed were both factors.
Abby’s hands were trembling, but she couldn’t stop reading. Tristan’s wife had killed David. At some point, Abby was certain that she had heard the woman’s name, but so much of what happened initially after David’s death was a blur. Some people would probably have remembered the name of the woman that killed their spouse, but to Abby, it was just details. Nothing changed the fact that David was dead.
She clicked the link to the obituary.
Lydia Estevan, 29, of Atlanta died Tuesday, December 22 as a result of a car accident. A retired fashion model, Ms. Estevan worked closely with various children’s charities in the area...
Surviving is her husband, Tristan Ramirez, of Atlanta.
Tears blurred her vision as she clicked on another article. This one included pictures detailing the life of Lydia Estevan. The woman was stunning. Legs that went on forever, eyes that were almost as black as her hair. Her face looked as if it was sculpted by an artist, perhaps by God Himself. The most remarkable picture was taken by Tristan’s side at a charity event. Lydia was laughing in another direction at something and Tristan stood with his mouth in a straight line, his hands by his side.
Oh God.
She had to get out of there. Tristan’s wife, the woman who’d killed David, had lived in this house. She needed space. She needed time to think. She needed to get the hell out of here. Not even bothering to close down her laptop, she retrieved her purse and walked as quickly as she could out of the house.
Before she pulled out of the driveway, Abby texted Tristan.
Need to think for a while. Will call later.
She pressed send and pulled away, wishing that the last hour all was just a bad dream.
~
Tristan closed Abby’s laptop with a feeling of dread. Her text had scared the hell out of him. He ran up to the bedroom and found her open laptop on the bed. Tristan wondered if she read something that upset her and looked at the screen.
“Son of a bitch.”
He found pictures of Lydia. Shots from her modeling career, pictures of Lydia and Tristan together, a picture of the wreck. That one added to nausea building in Tristan’s stomach. He quickly scrolled down, not wanting to look at the aftermath of the accident that caused his death.
“Oh God.” He groaned when he got to the bottom of the screen and saw the picture of him angrily shouting at reporters outside of the police station. He looked furious, when he had just been told of his wife’s death.
By this time, Abby had probably been notified as well.
Abby knew. What was she thinking? Would she leave him?
No. This would not separate them. He’d fought too hard and come too damned far to lose Abby now. She often went to her grandparent’s farm if she had to think, so he would go there first. His feet ate up the distance as he rushed for the door. He had to find her. The sooner, the better.
~
She couldn’t stay much longer, her glucometer was at Tristan’s, and she was hungry, but what was she going to say. What could she say?
Did our relationship start out as some sort of scheme to get to know David Daniels’s wife better?
Someone knocked on the door. Abby stayed put, not ready for this confrontation. But the knocking continued, and she couldn’t ignore it forever.
“Abby, come on. I know you’re in there.”
And I asked for time.
She opened the door, and Tristan looked surprised. “I didn’t know if you were going to let me in or not.”
“Tristan, you’ve taken care of me for months. We’re practically living together.” Abby stepped to the side so he could come in. “I wouldn’t make you stay outside.”
He looked around the room nervously as she closed the door. “Thank you.”
She motioned toward the couch. “Let’s sit. I’m tired and it’s been a really long day.”
He cringed. “I can take you home. You can rest. We don’t have to do anything right now.”
“Actually, Tristan, we do.” She sighed wearily. “When did you find out? Or, should I ask, how long have you known who I am?”
His shoulders slumped. “As soon as I saw you in therapy.”
Abby breathed in and out, slowly, processing the information, or at least attempting to. “How did you know?”
“Did you not see the photographers at your husband’s funeral?”
Abby shook her head. “I didn’t see much of anything that day.”
“It was pretty big news for a while. When the wife of a billionaire kills someone while driving drunk, the reporters come out of the woodwork.”
She realized that while she was dealing with her own grief, Tristan had to deal with that as well as fend off reporters. Both going through two separate versions of a personal hell. “It must have been bad for you.”
Tristan shrugged. “I’m used to it. But you’re not. I wouldn’t want you exposed to that.”
Abby felt very thankful that her ordinary life didn’t pique the interests of reporters. “Why did you sit next to me in group?”
His expression was pained, and he took a deep breath before answering. “You were all alone, and you never should have been there in the first place. I was the reason for that.”
“No, you weren’t. Your wife was driving that car, not you.”
“Lydia never drank like that before we were married. I neglected her. She needed me and I put more of myself into my business than I ever did my marriage.”
“I must have been a reminder of all that you had lost.”
“Or my hope for the future. Abby, you made me see who I wanted to be. You’re not a reminder of my mistakes or what I lost, you’re my incentive to be a good man.”
Abby held his gaze for a moment. He wore the strain of the afternoon on his face. The fine lines of tension around his eyes were more evident. Tristan looked unsure, vulnerable. She’d seen the same look on David’s face the day that he died.
“This is...a lot. I mean,” she blew out a ragged breath, “you knew about this and I’m just learning. Hasn’t it been awkward to be around me, at any time?”
“No,” Tristan shook his head, “not at all. I walked into group that first night, dreading being there. But I saw you and I had, I don’t know, hope.”
“Hope?” Abby asked, remembering her interest in him that first night, as well.
Tristan wrapped his arms around her so fast, she barely had time to blink. “Yes, hope. Never awkwardness.”
“What about guilt?” She had to know. “Did that play a factor in your interest in me?”
~
“Yes.” He owed her honesty. “I saw you and felt the need to apologize for...” Cheating, leaving you alone, “you being there.” At her questioning look, Tristan released her and stood back. “Regardless of specifics, I felt responsible for you losing your husband and being at that meeting. But then you looked up at me and, God, Abby, I didn’t want to make a quick apology and walk away. Hell, I didn’t want to move. By divine providence or some stroke of fate, the seat beside you wasn’t taken, and I had an excuse to be close to you.”
Her expression had softened. Before she looked hurt, now she seemed to be thinking about what he said. “Abby, can we go home? I mean, are you going with me back home?”
Please God, don’t let her stay here.
She nodded and took a deep breath. “I love you, Tristan, and I want to go home with you. But you have got to understand. I was betrayed the worst way possible the day that David and Lydia died. I don’t deal with secrets or lies. It has ta
ken me this long to be able to think about David without being resentful of the cheating. I need absolute trust between us.”
For months, Tristan wanted to tell Abby that he was David. But he couldn’t. Not now. And really, he wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to tell her. He refused to take the chance that he would hurt her. He took her hands within his own. “Abby, I promise that I will never hurt you. I will honor your trust in me and spend the rest of my life loving you.” He kissed her, softly and with reverence. Afterward, she looked up at him and smiled.
“Let’s go home.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Lord have mercy, Abigail Marie. This place is a mansion. You don’t have to clean, do you?”
Abby smiled as she hung baby clothes in the nursery closet. The girls from work had given her a shower—on top of the shower her family had thrown yesterday—and Abby’s mom had helped her bring all the gifts back to Tristan’s house. At this rate, she wouldn’t have to buy diapers for at least a year. She looked over at her mom, who gaped at the room, clearly in shock over the amount of space. Just as she had been.
“No, Tristan has staff.”
“I just don’t get it. Why does one person need this much room? How many bedrooms does this place have?”
“I don’t know. Eight, maybe?”
Her mom coughed, and Abby stopped folding onesies so she could look over her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“Honey,” she leaned over and whispered, “this is a scary kind of rich. People try to kidnap somebody with this much money. Are you sure you want to live here?”
Abby smiled and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Placing her hand on her mom’s shoulder, she kissed her cheek. “Tristan has security, so don’t worry.”
“Are they any good?”
She couldn’t stop the chuckle. “Yes, Mom. They’re the best. Now will you stop worrying and either help me or check out the baby’s room? A lot of work has been put into this.”
Her mom seemed to relax a little and walked around. “Well, I’ll say this much. Somebody did a fantastic job of decorating. The baby isn’t going to want to leave this room. It looks like one of those celebrity designers spent a month in here.”
It was a week, actually. And she wasn’t a celebrity...technically.
“I think it’s beautiful.” Abby looked up at the ceiling where cloud murals had been painted. At night, when all the lights were off, tiny stars shone on the ceiling from spotlights.
“If this room doesn’t tell you that Tristan loves you, I don’t know what does. Although I knew it when he came out to the farm.”
Abby froze, but kept her voice neutral. “When did Tristan go to the farm?”
“Last week. I can’t remember what day it was. He pulled up looking for you. The poor thing looked terrible, so upset. I thought something was wrong with you, but he said you were fine, that he had his days mixed up. I was on the way down to the bean field with Grandma or I would have called.”
That had to be the day she found out about his wife.
“Abby, are you okay sweetie?”
“I’m fine.”
Her mom gave her an appraising glance then nodded. “Good. Okay, let’s get my grandson’s stuff put away. Then you can show me around the rest of this house.”
Abby folded tiny clothes, trying to remember just when she told him where her grandparents lived.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Abby opened her eyes, stretching her arms, and realized she was alone in the bed. Glancing around the enormous master suite, she didn’t see Tristan. She would just lie here a bit longer then get ready for her doctor’s appointment.
Two weeks had passed since the day she discovered that Tristan’s wife was driving the car that killed David and, in spite of the shock value of that revelation, they’d grown closer. Tristan started going down to his office earlier, so he could get his work done at a reasonable hour and spend more time with Abby. They took lazy evening strolls through the trees on his property. He splayed his hand over her belly at night and laughed with her as the baby kicked. Their intimate relationship continued on a much more subdued level, with Tristan being respectful of her advanced pregnant state.
Twice, he had awakened during the middle of the night and sat up gasping. That would wake Abby and Tristan would settle back down as soon as he realized she was there, telling her both times he dreamed that she left.
Abby never doubted their love for one another. In fact, she knew that it only grew stronger. But she had a sense of foreboding. A feeling that something bad was going to happen. She couldn’t shake the nagging suspicion that it involved Tristan. Abby didn’t know if she would recover if she lost him.
He walked in the door and greeted her with a smile. “You’re awake.”
“Mmm hmm. Just lying here for a bit before I have to get ready for my appointment.”
He strode to the bed and kissed her. Abby loved the way his lips moved over hers and clutched his shoulders so she could keep him close. Tristan pulled back, laughing low. “As much as I’m tempted to climb back in bed with you, there is breakfast waiting downstairs.” Abby groaned and Tristan smiled as he straightened. “Hey, none of that. I tore myself away from my desk so we could have breakfast together.”
Abby smirked at his amused grin, recognizing the sarcasm in his voice. She took his hand and stood as gracefully as possible. “Well then, I’ll shower and be down as soon as possible so you can get back to your work.”
Tristan’s brow rose. “Need any help?”
She shook her head and shuffled to the closet. “No, I can shower on my own.”
“That’s a shame.” He came up behind her and kissed her on the neck. “I’m going on down. Don’t keep me waiting.”
“I...I won’t.”
Tristan stilled. “Abby, are you okay?”
“Yes,” she insisted with a confidence she didn’t feel. “I’m fine. Go ahead. I’ll be down as quickly as I can.”
He watched her for a moment, as if he were doubtful that she really was okay. He left and Abby sat down on the edge of the bed. Her heart was pounding, her forehead covered with beads of sweat.
It all could be coincidence, she told herself. Nothing more than that.
But was it? Things had happened over the last few months that made Abby wonder if the pregnancy hormones had caused her to hallucinate, to hear things that weren’t there.
Maybe I am just losing my mind.
Would that be preferable?
No. Abby knew there wasn’t anything wrong with her mind. She made a mental list of everything she’d noticed.
He’d stayed until she pulled away from the pizza restaurant, even though her car was only a year old and in great condition. He’d been concerned about her, even though they’d just met.
Tristan’s words the night she’d found out about his wife being the one who’d hit David. I’m responsible for your greatest pain. Regardless of the circumstance, I’m directly connected to your loss. Was he really referring to his wife’s drinking?
Tristan going to the farm to look for her, even though she hadn’t told him where the farm was. Sure, the information was easily accessible to him, but somehow Abby didn’t think he’d taken the time to look for it. David had been well-aware that Abby went to the farm whenever she needed to clear her mind. He hadn’t mentioned going there and she wouldn’t have known if her mom hadn’t said anything. Why was he hiding that?
Alice’s words as they walked through the peach trees. “Mr. Ramirez was a different person before he went on sabbatical, Abby. Having you in his life has changed him. He seems more human now.” How much had he changed? Was it possible that he actually was a different person before?
Tristan’s words when he explained why he was working from home. You make me happy. You’ve always made me happy.
David leaning in after he said his vows, whispering, “Past then too. Death can’t take away what we have.”
Tristan’s words as he got int
o bed, when he thought she was asleep. He wrapped his arms around her, held her closely and whispered, “I am so sorry.”
David, sitting on the edge of the bed as she walked out of the bathroom the first night of their honeymoon. He held out his hand, smiled at her like he had just won the lottery and cleared his throat before he spoke. “I’ve waited my entire life for this moment, Mrs. Daniels. Don’t keep me waiting anymore.” The expression on David’s face was a near mirror image of Tristan’s a moment before.
Her instant fascination with Tristan, thinking about him and wanting to see him when they had just met. Could that have been fate pushing her toward someone she had already loved before?
Tristan calling her Abigail Marie as he slept.
Abby’s chest tightened, her pulse pounding in her ears. Most of these similarities could be, as she thought earlier, coincidence, but all of them together?
Death can’t take away what we have.
Her hands were shaking as she tried to stand. Abby’s legs buckled and she went to her knees. She heard a sound and distantly registered her own sobbing wails. The door flew open.
“Abby!” Tristan ran over, dropping to his knees beside her. “Abby, what’s wrong?”
She couldn’t answer him, and rocked back and forth, her mind in utter chaos.
“Are you in pain? Is it the baby?”
She managed to shake her head as Tristan lifted her. “I’ve got you. I’m going to lay you down and call the— Oh my God. Abby, honey, I think your water just broke.”
Abby didn’t know how it could happen, but somehow, David and Tristan were the same person.
~
Abby writhed, trying to breathe deeply through the pain, apparently oblivious to the mass of tubes hooked up to her body. Tristan, sitting sentry at her side, recognized an IV, fetal monitor, and a heart monitor for Abby. The very sight of all of the medical devices hooked up to her body made him feel nauseous. He felt utterly and damnably helpless.
He fed her ice chips, held her hand as the contractions came and prayed for her to speak. But Abby stayed silent, giving minimal answers to the nurses as they questioned, only nodding or shaking her head to his own questions. She said one word to him since they’d come into the birthing room. He’d asked if she wanted him to leave and she’d whispered, “Stay”.
Tristan's Redemption Page 14