(Serena)Haylee’s driving, because I can’t.Not like this.Not when my hands are shaking. I’m still processing how she managed to get him to stay for breakfast.How she slipped in about feeling like her clothes belong in Hale Mansion. How I made her feel like she belongs there.Like Hell she does and I need to get her out.“You better buy me tacos after this,” Haylee says. “I’m risking heatstroke in this get-up.” She’s wearing a fake baby bump under a dress and she has a scarf wrapped around her neck and a wig.I pull my wig lower, adjust the oversized sunglasses on my face. “I’ll buy you a whole damn truck. You look good as a brunette.”We park in the underground garage and take the back entrance.The clinic is small, private, and expensive enough that it doesn’t ask questions. No one else is there when we walk in.The receptionist glances up. I give my false name and she asks us to wait in room two. So we head in there and see two chairs and another door.We sit down.“You okay?”
(James)I slide out of bed quietly and head into the nursery.He’s blinking up at the ceiling. I don’t pick him up. I just say good morning, and his eyes move to me.It’s really something to have this helpless life completely dependent on you to survive.“Hey there, buddy,” I whisper. “You getting hungry yet?”A few minutes later, Serena’s up too. I hear her head to the bathroom.She smiles when she sees me. We fall into the routine we’ve established. She heats the bottle and I set out his diaper and clothing ready for his change.I pick him up and take him to the rocking armchair.Serena hands me his bottle. “I’ll turn the heating up a little. It’s chilly this morning.”“Thanks. You can feed him if you want?”“It’s okay. I’m going to shower and then we’ll have breakfast once the baby is changed.”“Sounds great. You okay?”“I am. I’m feeling more positive.”We don’t mention what we’re talking about but we both know.It’s peaceful feeding the baby and I imagine doing this with my own
(Serena)He cries around midnight.Not loud. Not frantic. Just the kind of soft, uncertain whimper that makes you sit upright in bed before you're even fully awake.James is already out of bed.By the time I push the sheets back, he's in the nursery, swaying gently in the dim light, Little Champ tucked in against his chest like he’s something breakable and precious.The sight stops me in the doorway.James is barefoot, in sweats and a plain black tee. His hand rests over the baby's back, slow, soothing strokes. His voice is a low hum, not even a tune, just presence.“He just needed a cuddle I think,” he murmurs when he notices me.“I’d have come.”“I know.” He smiles. “But I wanted to.”He lays him down gently, both holding our breath until he sighs, turns his head to the side, and settles. Peaceful again.We don’t speak until he’s settled back in the bassinet. James watches for another few seconds to make sure he’s really asleep, then gestures toward the hallway.“Let’s go to the eas
(Serena)We're standing just outside the nurses station in the baby’s word, waiting.James is finalizing the last of the paperwork for the baby's release.I hold the carrier in my hands, padded with soft fabric, and I keep adjusting it even though it’s already perfect.Every second that passes feels enormous.Outside the reporters with cameras and phones are gathered, desperate for a glimpse of “the Hale baby scandal.” I hate that’s how they see this.How do they even find out this stuff is happening?This is why we only speak about my pregnancy in the east wing office. This is why I will keep it a secret for as long as I possibly can. Even from my own family. But Haylee knows.I trust her but I know I can’t discuss it with her right now and I won’t.Haylee is outside acting like media security for us, despite James’ usual security detail that follow us everywhere, bless her.She even threw some of her sass their way. “He’s a baby, not a headline, back the hell off.”God, I love her.
(Serena)Three days.Three whole days of quiet.It doesn’t sound like much, but in this house? That’s a record.No outbursts. No mysterious disappearances.No unexpected visitors in the sitting room pretending they still run this family.Savannah’s stayed in her wing.The baby is still in hospital but well enough for cuddles and bottle feeds twice daily. James and I take turns visiting. Together when we can.Otherwise, James has spread between work, Savannah and being with me.I’ve been busy handling things to get ready for the dinner party and any possible bakery emergencies. More senior staff. And we are all very excited about the family trip and James’ generosity.Not the financial generosity for me, but the generosity of the time and detail he put into everything.I touch the necklace, Serena and James. I love it so much. And the earrings I will wear at my very first formal dinner party.I’m very excited. Chef has tested all the menu items, and we have tweaked it. I’m working on t
(Serena)I can barely speak.My legs tremble around his shoulders. The sensation builds, swells, crashes through me in a wave that leaves me gasping.He doesn’t stop touching me, hands stroking my thighs, his mouth kissing its way back up my body as I ride the last of the tremor.Then he’s kissing me again, wet, deep, urgent.I reach for him, sliding my hand under the waistband of his boxers, finding him hard and hot against my palm.He groans into my mouth as I stroke him, and then he’s moving to get his boxers off.“I want you,” he says, voice rough. “I want all of you.”“You have me,” I whisper.He pushes into me in one slow, thick stroke, filling me completely. I clutch at his back, his shoulders, my breath catching at the stretch, the depth.He doesn’t move at first, just holds still inside me, forehead against mine, breathing hard.“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “For all of it.”“I know,” I say.And then he begins thrusting.Slow at first, then deeper, faster. Every thrust drags a m