Chapter 40
‘Are you excited?’ I turn to Cole as he takes my hand and lifts it to his lips. We’re sitting in the back of the SUV with Tate, outside Dr Kensington’s clinic. It’s in an old Georgian house on a narrow, quiet street on the outskirts of the city.
We’re ridiculously early for our appointment, but Cole insisted. Gabriel went in ahead of us to sweep the place and to alert the receptionist to our arrival. The fewer people who see us here, the better. My pregnancy miraculously still hasn’t made the headlines yet, but given the size of my bump, it has to be my family’s influence rather than a fluke. Although if Cole and I were to be spotted together at Dublin’s top obstetrician’s office, a video like that would go viral in seconds. Which is why every day for the past week, he’s begged me to let him arrange a meeting with my family.
I will… just not yet.
This is the happiest I’ve been in,–well, ever, and I’d like to revel in it for a bit longer before burning my Beckett bridges. Cole’s new hotel plans for Barcelona are all over the financial news right now, and my brothers are freshly incensed. Caelon and Killian called to my office last week, and it was all Caelon could talk about. Apparently Cole had been quoted in some article as calling Caelon’s hotel chains “Beckett’s Piss” instead of “Beckett’s Bliss p>
This stupid feud between my brothers and my boyfriend has to stop. It’s a glorified dick measuring competition.
‘Of course I’m excited.’ Cole beams at me—actually beams. ‘I’m about to see my baby boy p>
‘I’ve been thinking.’ I lean my cheek against his shoulder and twist my face to meet his eyes. ‘We should name him after your father p>
‘Finally.’ He throws his hand up in the air. ‘You’re finally agreeing to call him Hartmann p>
‘No,’ I scoff. ‘No way. Let’s not get carried away now. It’ll be Beckett Hartmann—if you’re lucky.’ I squeeze his hand. ‘I was suggesting we call him Tiernan. That way, even without the new hotel, your father’s legacy lives on in Dublin p>
Cole stares at me for a long silent beat, then cradles my face in his palm. ‘How is it possible that the sexiest woman on the planet is also the most thoughtful, giving, and frankly fucking amazing?’ He presses his lips to mine in a slow, lingering kiss. ‘I love you,’ he whispers, emotion crackling in his voice.
‘And I love you.’ I palm the nape of his neck, pulling his lips against mine again.
One swift rap on the window sets my blood pressure soaring. I’m jittery. Probably excitement rather than nerves, but the adrenaline is certainly pumping today.
‘It’s okay.’ Cole squeezes my bicep. ‘It’s Gabriel p>
Tate hits the button to open the window.
‘All clear. Dr Kensington is almost ready for you.’ Gabriel glances at the clinic’s entrance. A bronze plated plaque is mounted on the wall beside the black glossy wooden door.
A million butterflies soar through my stomach. Seeming to sense them, Cole drops a kiss to my temple. ‘It’s okay, sweetheart. We’re in this together now. Let’s go see our baby p>
Gabriel opens the door and offers a hand to help me out. My bump is growing bigger with every passing day. Thankfully, from the way Cole worships it, and the rest of my body, he finds my changing shape both beautiful and beguiling.
He’s right behind me, palm placed firmly on the base of my spine. I glance to my left, then to my right, looking for any paparazzi. You’d think growing up with five overprotective brothers would make me immune to paranoia, but no—not when I’m one snapshot away from becoming the centre of a full-blown Romeo and Juliet style scandal.
To my left, the narrow Georgian street stretches downhill, lined with tall townhouses comprised of redbrick, separated by wrought-iron railings. The soft June breeze carries the scent of cut grass from the little park at the end of the road. A cyclist whizzes past, humming to himself, completely oblivious to the fact a Beckett–Hartmann baby reveal hangs in the balance.
To my right, the row curves slightly, the pale limestone footpaths dappled with sunlight filtering through leafy plane trees. A woman in a lilac coat walks a miniature dachshund, her heels clicking a lazy rhythm against the cobblestones. She doesn’t even look our way.
Across the road, tucked into the shadow of a doorway, a homeless man sits on a folded blanket. I look away, then nearly give myself whiplash as I do a doubletake. Something nudges my memory.
I’ve seen that tatty blanket before.
And that baseball cap.
And that dog.
Unless baby brain is actually real, and I’m fully hallucinating, it’s the same guy I saw outside my office in Ballsbridge.
A prickle runs down my spine.
Dublin is small, sure. But not that small.
Unless he’s from around here?
His head rests against the brickwork, the dog clutched in his arms like a soft toy. His eyes are closed as if he’s sleeping, but I don’t know… something about him being here feels… off.
Cole’s palm presses gently into the base of my spine, anchoring me back to the moment.
‘Zara?’ he murmurs. ‘You okay p>
‘Yeah,’ I lie, blinking away the weird tension fizzing under my skin. ‘Thought I recognised someone, that’s all p>
He follows my line of sight for a second, but Gabriel is already ushering us forward, scanning the street one last time before nodding.
‘Clear,’ Gabriel says. ‘Head on in p>
If he’s not concerned, I shouldn’t be either.
Still, as we walk toward the clinic door, I glance back once more.
Cole’s hand finds mine, his thumb stroking reassurance into my palm. ‘Ready?’ he asks softly.
I nod, square my shoulders, lift my chin, and step forward. Because in about five minutes, I’m going to see my son’s face for the first time—and nothing—not my brothers, not the feud, and certainly not a homeless man with a dog—is going to ruin that moment. I pull my phone from my handbag and switch it off. The rest of the world can wait. This morning is about us—our baby. Our little family.
The second we step inside Dr Kensington’s clinic, we’re hit with the scent of an overpowering floral diffuser. You’d imagine the country’s best obstetrician would be sympathetic to her pregnant patients’ struggles with a painfully acute sense of smell, but apparently she’s not. I wrinkle my nose and blow out a deep breath.
Soft instrumental music floats from discreetly positioned speakers. Cole glances around, taking in the original Georgian detail, the curved staircase, ornate ceiling roses, and the dark mahogany floors polished to a sheen.
The walls are painted in an offensive shade of green. Again—who decided green is relaxing? Pale sunshine yellow walls and a warm oak wood floor would be far more inviting.
‘This is… nice,’ Cole murmurs, low enough that only I hear him.
If by nice he means the exact aesthetic I’d die before replicating in one of my own projects, then yes. It’s spectacular.
My boyfriend’s fingers remain firmly on my back, guiding me as if he’s afraid I’ll bolt. Cute of him to assume I have the energy to run anywhere these days. Those days are long gone. Having him here with me, though, having anyone here with me at a prenatal appointment is totally surreal. He’s only been back in my life a few weeks, yet I can’t imagine doing this alone now.
The receptionist lifts her head the moment she spots me. ‘Miss Beckett.’ She greets me with a warm smile. ‘Doctor Kensington is just finishing with a patient and will call you through shortly. Please take a seat in the waiting room.’ She points to the open door on our left.
‘Thank you.’ I smile.
Gabriel double checks the waiting room before ushering us in. ‘You can wait outside with Tate.’ Cole dismisses him politely. Gabriel nods curtly and leaves us to it.
‘You ready to see our baby boy?’ he asks, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear. It’s still thick, luscious and glossy, but Scarlett warned me to make the most of that while it lasts—because apparently, it won’t be long.
‘Born ready.’ I flash him a smile as we take a seat on one of the oversized linen sofas. Cole sits so close our thighs touch, his hand resting protectively over my knee, thumb moving in slow circles that do absolutely nothing to steady my heart rate.
‘Are you ready?’ I ask.
‘I’ve never been more ready for any of this. I know neither of us planned this, but it just feels so… right.’ His huge blue eyes bore into mine.
‘I love you,’ I whisper.
‘I love you more.’ He presses a kiss to my temple, and we sit in comfortable silence until the receptionist calls my name. My breath catches as I stand.
Cole threads our fingers together. ‘Let’s go meet our baby p>
We head into Dr Kensington’s office along the corridor. I’m familiar with it from my previous appointment. The room is warm, softly lit, and immaculately designed—the ultrasound machine has been tucked discreetly behind a frosted glass divider, so the room feels more like a spa, rather than a medical facility.
Dr Kensington greets us with a calm, elegant professionalism she always has. ‘Zara, lovely to see you again.’ Her eyes flick to Cole.
‘This is Cole Hartmann, my…’ Boyfriend sounds childish. Manfriend sounds weird. Partner makes me feel like we’re discussing business. The word everything is the most appropriate but feels a bit personal to blurt out in her office.
‘You must be Dad.’ She extends a hand. The flicker in her irises assures me she recognises his surname from every financial newspaper on earth, but she’s tactful enough not to comment.
‘Nice to meet you,’ he says, shaking her hand with his usual distinct, disarming charm that could probably broker peace treaties as well as melt every piece of lingerie in the city.
She turns her attention back to me. ‘How have you been since I last saw you p>
‘Good, thanks.’ My eyes drift to Cole. ‘Better p>
Last time I was in here, I was a hot fucking mess after breaking the news to my family that I was pregnant.
‘Happy to hear it.’ She offers a knowing smile and gestures towards the examination bed. ‘Hop up and we’ll have a look at you p>
I lie back as Cole settles in beside me, his large hand engulfing mine. My heartbeat pounds loudly in my ears.
‘We’ll start with the standard twenty-week checks,’ Dr Kensington says, reaching for the ultrasound machine. ‘Heartbeat, organs, measurements… and then, if you’d like, we can find out the sex p>
‘Yes,’ Cole says instantly.
She arches a mild eyebrow. ‘We’ll ask the mother p>
I snort.
Cole looks adorably chastised.
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘But I’m pretty sure I already know. His kicks are so strong. He’s a little fighter already. I think it’s a boy p>
The doctor smiles but says nothing as she squeezes warm gel onto my stomach. Cole flinches like she’s just poured acid on me.
Then, the wand touches my skin, the screen flickers p>
And there he is on the screen.
Our baby.
A perfect little promise of legs and arms floating on a black-and-white background.
My throat tightens. Cole inhales sharply. His hand squeezes mine almost tight enough to bruise. He catches himself and loosens his grip, shooting an apologetic smile my way.
I fire him a conspiratory wink. His excitement is infectious.
‘The heartbeat is strong,’ Dr Kensington says, clicking through images slowly. ‘The spine looks great. Brain development is perfect. Kidneys functioning. Diaphragm intact. All measurements are on track p>
Cole presses a trembling kiss to the crown of my head.
He’s silent, but emotion radiates off in waves.
‘Would you like to know the sex now?’ she asks.
‘I already know,’ I say confidently.
‘She already knows,’ Cole echoes, still staring at our baby with a look of awe etched into every fine line on his handsome face.
Dr Kensington smiles. ‘Well… let’s take a look.’ She moves the wand, angles the screen.
The baby kicks inside of me then, nudging back against Dr Kensington’s probing touch.
She laughs. ‘Oh wow. She really is a fighter! Congratulations,’ she says warmly. ‘You’re having a little princess p>