Chapter 23

Hailey

For the last week and a half, everywhere I’ve gone, I’ve been worried I’ll run into Taylor. It’s curtailed my walks and activities with Addison, but I saw how her appearance affected Christian, and I don’t want to encounter more trouble.

Today, though, we have Addison’s checkup, so we’re headed to the doctor’s office. I can’t hide forever. I push Addison in her stroller as we navigate the maze of hallways to the medical offices at the hospital and then to Dr. Cordelia’s clinic.

We wait in the front area only a few minutes before a nurse whisks us back to a brightly colored room, adorned with cartoon animals and alphabet posters. It’s designed to be cheerful, but my anxiety renders it all a bit garish. I lower Addison onto the padded exam table, and the nurse takes her vitals before assuring us Dr. Cordelia will be right along.

When the doctor appears, she gets down to business and begins her assessment right away, her hands gently probing as Addison smiles.

Most things seem normal and as expected, though Addison once again has a bit of the sniffles, but at the end of the exam, Dr. Cordelia turns to me. “Addison isn’t showing the level of vitality I’d expect at this stage,” she explains. “She’s not trying to crawl yet, though that’s not entirely unusual for a baby with Down syndrome.” She pulls out a bright green stuffed worm, and Addison tracks it with her eyes. “She’s following objects.”

I nod, watching Addison’s gaze move to the dangling mobile above her. “Yes, and she can sit up without support.”

“That’s definitely a positive sign,” Dr. Cordelia confirms. “We’ll keep monitoring her progress. Hopefully, by her second birthday, she’ll be walking.”

“Hopefully,” I echo, feeling a tightness in my chest. Addison is nine months this week, and her first birthday looms closer each day and, with it, the weight of expectations.

“How was Taylor as a mother?” I ask. “Before…” My voice trails off, not wanting to dredge up the details of Taylor’s departure.

Dr. Cordelia pauses, considering her words. “Taylor was…very involved. She seemed competent and connected to her child,” she says. “But right now, we need to think about the present. I’m worried about Addison’s heart. Children with Down syndrome are slower to meet milestones, but Addison should still be farther along, and I think it’s because of her heart. We need to keep her environment controlled and low-key so she can stay healthy and gain some strength. Stress is not good for her, and neither is additional illness, so continue to avoid large crowds and germs as much as possible. When we think she’s strong enough to schedule surgery, we will.”

“Understood,” I reply, gathering Addison’s clothes to put her back in them. “Thanks, Dr. Cordelia,” I add as the doctor departs.

Once we have ourselves back together, we leave the sanctuary of the clinic, stepping out into the uncertainty of the real world. I push Addison along, looking for a ray of sunshine before it becomes too hot for her to be outside.

The sun filters through the branches above us, casting dappled shadows on the walkway as I push the stroller, my mind a whirlwind of concerns for Addison’s health. I hardly register the approach of a woman until she steps directly into my path, forcing me to halt.

Taylor. I glance down at Addison, brushing a stray curl from her forehead. My pulse quickens. Taylor looks different than I expected—anxious and…desperate. There’s an intensity in her gaze that makes me tighten my grip on Addison’s stroller.

This is the moment I’ve been dreading, the moment Taylor forces her way back into Addison’s life.

“Hailey, right?” Taylor’s voice is thin, stretched. Her eyes flicker to Addison, and I shift, putting my body between them.

I know she noticed.

“How do you know my name?” I ask. She’s already in my space, closer than I’d like.

“Christian mentioned it,” she says, her gaze locked on Addison. There’s an edge in her voice, like she’s barely holding it together.

Her hand twitches toward Addison, and I step back and pick her up.

“I’m Taylor, Addison’s mother.”

“Don’t,” I say firmly. “I know who you are. Please don’t touch her.”

Taylor’s eyes narrow. “I miss her so much.”

“Why did you leave?”

Her shoulders sag. “Having her wasn’t easy from the beginning. I found out at twenty weeks that she had Down syndrome, and my family thought I should give her up. But I couldn’t. I was on birth control, and we’d used a condom, so I figured someone was sending me a message to have this baby.”

She reaches for Addison again, and I relent. I can see the pain in her eyes. This must be so hard for her. “Be really careful. Her health is fragile.”

Addison is rigid in her arms, fusses, and reaches for me.

“She doesn’t remember me,” Taylor whispers.

“Let’s sit down.” I motion to the park bench, praying she doesn’t just run off with her.

“I thought I could take care of her on my own, but it was so much work,” Taylor says, shaking her head. “I got her the best doctors, and I made sure she had everything she needed.”

I nod, and she finally gives Addison back. Addison puts her head on my chest, and I rub her back the way she likes while she watches Taylor. Relief washes over me in waves.

“I have postpartum depression,” Taylor says. “I’m doing a lot better now, but I knew if I didn’t take the job in California, being a mother would crush me. I love her, though.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. It sounds very difficult. But you should know Addison is doing great. I’m only the nanny, though. I’m not a decision maker in this situation.”

She nods. “You take her to all her checkups?”

“I do.” Addison gives me a toothless smile. “And to all of her therapy appointments. She’s doing great. She’s right on track for a baby with Downs.” Until I speak with Christian, I’m not telling her anything Cordelia has shared.

“I miss her.”

“I’m sure she’d love it if you were in her life—at least sometimes. I know leaving couldn’t have been easy for you, but I also know what’s been hard for Addison.” I meet her gaze head on. “She’s been sick. Her Downs makes her heart fragile. She needs calm, consistency, things you haven’t been able to provide. I understand that you want to be a part of her life now, but you have to work it out with Christian, and I know he’s going to put Addison’s needs before any others.”

“I’m not here to cause problems,” Taylor says. “I’m here because I love her. Because I’m her mother.”

I swallow hard, my heart thudding in my chest. “Then be her mother,” I say. “But you need to do it the right way. Addison deserves better than this back and forth, and her health conditions demand it. You can’t just come and go when it suits you.”

Taylor’s face tightens, her lips parting as if to argue, but then she takes a deep breath, her shoulders slumping slightly. “I just want to see her,” she says. “I just… I want to hold her.”

My heart aches, but I don’t let myself soften. Not now. Addison squirms against me, fussing, and I know it’s time to go. “We have to figure out what’s best for Addison,” I tell her. “You’ll have to talk to Christian about what you want. Right now, we need to go.”

Taylor’s gaze lingers on Addison, but she doesn’t argue. Then her face crumples with emotion as she turns and walks away, disappearing into the crowd at the hospital.

I watch her go, adrenaline coursing through my veins. My legs feel weak, like they might give out, and I can’t let that happen. I kiss the top of Addison’s head, her soft curls tickling my cheek as I return her to the stroller.

“You’re okay,” I whisper. “We’re okay.”

But as I look down at Addison, the weight of what just happened settles over me. I need to tell Christian.

The drive home is a blur, Addison’s soft breathing the only sound that grounds me. But as I pull into Christian’s garage, my heart hammers anew. Franklin suddenly appears next to the car, his body tight with anger, veins bulging at his temples. He must have been hiding in the alley somewhere.

“Where is it, Hailey? Where did you put my stuff?” he shouts, pounding on the driver’s side window with a force that sends shivers down my spine.

“Franklin, just calm down, please,” I plead, fumbling with my phone and making sure the doors are locked. My fingers tremble as I dial 911, reporting the situation in hurried, hushed tones. I climb into the backseat and sit next to Addison’s car seat, ready to protect her from broken glass or whatever he’s ready to throw our way.

“Hailey!” Franklin’s voice is a jagged edge, slicing through the refuge of the Range Rover. “Give me my damn things now!”

Addison stirs and whimpers. Franklin steps away and looks around Christian’s garage. There isn’t much. He hurls a plastic recycling container against the window, and it boomerangs right back at him. The police can’t come soon enough. Time stretches, each second a weight upon my chest until I see the flashing lights.

Officers step out, their authoritative presence a relief as they approach Franklin. They speak with him, their voices firm but controlled. Soon, one of them comes over to me and knocks on the window.

I open the door, just in time to hear Franklin yelling expletives at me.

“Ma’am, with the restraining order against Mr. Richards, he’s been arrested. He’s not supposed to be here,” the officer explains. “He’s violating the order.”

My breath catches, a mixture of fear and solace wrestling within me. Addison reaches out for my shirt, sensing the disquiet. As the police take Franklin away, his rage-filled eyes find mine one last time. “You’re going to pay for this!”

After I answer the police’s questions, Addison and I finally get inside. The quiet hum of the air purifier is the white noise that calms us for the rest of the day. After her dinner, Addison’s sprawled across my lap, her tiny chest rising and falling in the jerky rhythm of an overstimulated infant on the brink of sleep. Dr. Cordelia’s words haunt me. Too much excitement is not what Addison needs. Today has been a tempest, one I certainly didn’t plan for.

I gently pat Addison, tracing circles until her breath evens out and she succumbs to exhaustion for the night. But I can’t shake the anxiety that sparks within me. I should have protected her better, shielded her from the drama.

I glance at the clock. Christian will be home soon, and I need to create some semblance of normalcy out of the day’s wreckage. With utmost care, I transfer Addison to her crib, ensuring her comfort before tiptoeing to the kitchen.

Dinner is a simple affair, a pot roast I prepared earlier. But the tension in my shoulders doesn’t ease, not when the memory of Franklin’s furious eyes still burns behind my eyelids. I set the table mechanically, arranging utensils and plates while my mind races with the potential fallout from his rage.

The beep of the back door opening signals Christian’s arrival. His footsteps are heavy, the sound of a man bearing the weight of long hours and life-and-death decisions. “Hi,” he murmurs, his voice gravelly with fatigue. He drops his bag and wraps me in a weary embrace.

I melt into him for a moment, allowing myself the illusion of safety. “Hi,” I reply. “Dinner’s ready.”

We sit, and he eats with an absentminded appreciation, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. I hate to add to his load right now, and it takes me until we’ve cleared our plates and started dessert to summon the courage to broach the subject of Franklin.

“Something happened today,” I start, my fingers entwined tightly in my lap. “Franklin showed up. He was… It was intense. I called the police.”

He pauses, a forkful of pie halfway to his mouth. “Are you and Addison okay?” He sets down his utensil, giving me his full attention.

“Yes. But he frightened me and was trying to get into the Range Rover, so I called the police. He was arrested for violating the restraining order. When he left he said he was going to make me pay, so that means he’ll release the photos.”

Christian reaches across the table, covering my hand with his. “Did anyone else hear this?”

I roll my eyes. “Just everyone in the neighborhood and the officers who arrested him.”

His thumb strokes my skin. “Don’t worry about Franklin.”

I stare at him. How can he be so calm?

“We’ve got this,” he assures me, reaching for his phone.

He finds who he wants to call and dials. “Miller? Sorry to bother you again. Franklin Richards showed up at the house this afternoon and was arrested, but he also insinuated that he was going to release the pictures.” He’s quiet a moment, then looks at me and smiles. “Great,” he says into the phone. “Hailey will be glad to know that.”

He disconnects his call. “Miller will be at Franklin’s arraignment, so we can keep track of what happens after this, and he has one of his teammates working on getting into the cloud and deleting the photos.”

“You can tell them Franklin’s password is usually pound sign, the number one and the word gamer with the G capitalized and an exclamation point.”

Christian types it out, and when he shows it to me I nod. “That’s really easy to break.”

I shrug. “Well, he did fall out of the stupid tree and hit every limb on the way down.”

Christian cracks a smile. “He won’t get far with this nonsense. I promise.”

I nod, trying to believe him. But the reassurance feels thin against the reality of Franklin’s venomous threats. I’ve seen how he exacts revenge. An older man took what Franklin believed to be his seat on the SkyTrain, and he harassed the guy relentlessly, despite my urgings to stop. He can be cruel, and he doesn’t like it when things don’t go his way. I just never thought he’d turn on me.

“I’m beat, but I’ve missed you,” Christian says, attempting to move us to lighter topics. His gaze holds a familiar heat, one that momentarily pushes aside the concerns clotting my thoughts.

“Me too,” I respond, a smile touching my lips.

He reaches for me, and the turmoil of the day recedes, replaced by the promise of intimacy and connection. Tonight, at least, there is solace in each other’s arms.

Lying beside Christian in the dark, I trace idle patterns across his chest, watching as his eyes close with the contentment that follows our lovemaking. But as the pleasure and release ebb away, my heart returns to being a clenched fist inside my ribcage. There’s more I have to share about today, and it really shouldn’t wait.

“Thank you for that,” I tell him. “Today was such a shitty day. I also need to tell you that Taylor showed up outside Dr. Cordelia’s office after our appointment.”

Christian bolts upright, his face hardening into sharp lines of anger. “What? Taylor?”

I nod. “She approached us on the sidewalk outside the hospital, wanting to see Addison.”

Christian is on his feet now, pacing like a caged animal. “What was she thinking? Was she high? Did she try to take Addison away from you?”

“No. Nothing like that. We were in a very public place. She wanted to hold her and explained why she left. She has postpartum depression.”

His hands clench and unclench. “She told you that?”

I nod.

“Damn it.” He stops pacing, his gaze searing into mine. “I’m home tomorrow but I’m on call. We’ll figure this out.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

After a moment, he returns to the bed and pulls me to him. “Are you on birth control?” he asks, even as his hands begin to move over my body again.

“Yes. I’ve had the shot.” I gasp as he grips the back of my neck.

“Would you be okay if we didn’t use condoms? I’m clean and haven’t been with anyone.”

I nod, my breath coming in pants. “I’m clean too.”

He pulls away and looks at me. “I’ve never had sex without a condom. But I trust you, Hailey.”

I nod, unable to form words. He’s telling me something here, drawing a contrast between the life he had before and the life we have now. I feel like I should figure out how to respond, but then the world tilts on its axis when Christian’s lips crash against mine, stealing my breath and the chaotic thoughts swirling in my head. Taylor’s back. Franklin’s threats are closing in. But none of it matters when his kiss devours the fear, leaving only a hunger that claws at my insides.

“I need this,” he breathes against my mouth, his voice gravelly with emotion. “We both do.”

I can’t argue. I’m desperate to cling to anything that feels real, feels like us. His hands—those strong, capable hands—slide into my shorts, past the flimsy barrier of my panties, and find evidence of my own need all over again. I shudder under his touch, heat pooling low in my belly as I shove the fabric down my legs and kick them off in a rush of urgency.

My heart races in tandem with his ragged breaths as he parts me wide, exposing the raw desire glittering between us. A thrill shoots through me at the sight of his approval, the hungry gaze drinking in my vulnerability.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, stepping back just enough to showcase the prominent bulge once again straining against his boxer briefs. “Open wide and show me what I do to you.”

It’s an intoxicating power, knowing I inspire such lust in him. “What are you going to do about it?” The words roll off my tongue, thick with suggestion, my body coiling in anticipation of his next move.

His eyes darken, a storm brewing in their depths. Without a whisper of hesitation, Christian’s fingers thrust inside me. I gasp, the sudden fullness making me feel stretched, almost to the brink of being overwhelmed, but it’s a sensation that borders on exquisite.

“Better hang on,” he growls with an edge that promises this ride will be anything but gentle. His fingers pivot, drawing out only to push back in with a rhythm that leaves no room for thought, only the mounting pressure of need building inside me. I grip the edge of the mattress, knuckles white, as my body tries to keep pace with the fervor of his movements.

I lean back, a silent plea for balance, and Christian—ever attuned to my desires—seizes the opportunity. His mouth finds me, hot and insistent against my clit. The sensation rockets through me, amplified by the relentless dance of his fingers within. I’m spiraling, hurtling toward a precipice I can’t see but am desperate to tumble over.

“Christian...!” His name escapes as a moan, ripped from the depths of me as pleasure blurs my vision. The climax hits hard and fast, a wave crashing over me without mercy. But he doesn’t stop. He continues, his mouth and fingers a symphony of relentless pleasure that refuses to let the echoes of my release fade away.

The tremors of my first release still linger, a low hum in my veins, as the second wave swells within me. It’s building, intense and unstoppable, when suddenly Christian withdraws his fingers. Air rushes into the void he leaves, and I gasp, eyes snapping open to find his gaze locked on mine, his face glistening with my arousal.

“I want to come inside you,” he breathes. The intensity in his eyes anchors me, but his words seem distant, like they’re coming from far away. My brain can’t latch onto them. All I feel is the sudden absence of him and the desperate hunger for more.

“Lean over the bed,” he commands, and I obey without hesitation. I bend forward, offering myself to him. Then comes the sharp smack against my ass, a sting that blooms into heat and sends my arousal spiking even higher. “Please, make me come,” I beg, my voice laden with all the desire he has stoked within me.

His fingers trace up my spine, then curl around to my front, finding my nipples and twisting them gently, skillfully. A moan escapes, riding the edge of pleasure and pain.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he says.

I nod but it never is. Not with him.

He steps away, leaving me exposed, craving his touch again. Then he’s in front of me on the bed, his eyes dark with desire. “Get me wet,” he orders. “Wet enough so I can fuck you just how I like.”

Eagerly, I take him into my mouth, the saltiness of his skin mingling with the remnants of my own taste on his flesh.

Christian groans, his hands finding my hair, not pushing or guiding, just holding. “That’s it, Hailey...just like that.” He fondles my breast, thumb brushing over my nipple in tandem with his deep thrusts.

His cock hits the back of my throat, and I take him deeper with each movement. My eyes water, but the burn is exhilarating. It’s a challenge, one I accept willingly, wantonly.

Just as I think he might push me farther, he pulls back, cradling my jaw as he looks down at me. “You okay?” he asks.

With heavy-lidded eyes, I nod and whisper between breaths, “Don’t stop, Christian. Please, don’t stop.”

Satisfaction flickers across his features, and his eyes hold mine as he helps me to my feet. The silent exchange is electric, our connection palpable. We’re in this together—every gasp, every touch, every moment of surrender.

Christian moves behind me, bending me over the bed again. His presence is a force, and when he pushes inside, my breath catches. His thickness demands an adjustment, a moment of acclimation, but there’s no pain—only a fullness that sends my senses reeling.

“Hailey,” he breathes. “You’re heaven.” He speaks against my neck, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. “I could live here forever.” Each word is punctuated with a push deeper into my tight embrace.

I gasp, my fingers clawing at the surface beneath me. The stretch, the pull—it’s all-consuming, and I’m lost in the sensation of him filling me again and again.

Once he’s settled into a rhythm, his hands roam over my body. Eventually, one finds its way to my hair. He tugs gently at first, then more firmly, tilting my head back to meet his gaze. There’s a wildness there, a fervor that mirrors my own. And when he draws out slowly only to pound back into me, it ignites every nerve ending I possess.

“Christian!” My voice climbs as the crescendo of pleasure builds within me. The sound of our bodies meeting in relentless strokes echoes through the room. Heat coils tighter in my core, and when he pulls my hair just so, tipping my world off-kilter, I shatter.

The climax washes over me in a roaring wave, and I scream his name, a vocal surrender to the overwhelming bliss that wracks my body. Christian doesn’t relent. He drives into me, chasing his own release with a fervor that pushes me to new heights. Every motion is a promise, every touch a claim—his on mine, and mine on his—in this dance of desire that refuses to end.

As we gasp for air, Addison fusses over the baby monitor, piercing through the fog of our passion. Christian’s rhythm falters, and for a heartbeat, we’re both suspended in the sudden silence that follows.

“Christian... Are you ever going to finish?” I tease, breathless, my voice laced with frustration and longing. It’s bratty, sure, but I can’t help it. He’s brought me to the edge and back, and I’m greedy for his cock.

He responds with a sharp spank, a crack of flesh that resonates in the charged air. “You’re going to pay for that,” he growls. His hands grip my hips with an intensity that speaks volumes. He’s staking his claim, leaving marks that will remind me of this moment for days to come.

The room fills with the sound of our skin slapping together as he finds his pace again. My body is alight with sensation, each thrust pushing me farther into the abyss of pleasure. And when he comes, it’s with a primal force that leaves me gasping, his warmth flooding inside me in a rush that’s almost too much to bear.

“I love that my cum is deep inside you,” he breathes, his voice thick with satisfaction. “I’ve marked you as my own.”

We’re sticky and spent, but the hunger between us hasn’t abated. It’s merely transformed, simmering beneath the surface. Christian pulls me close, his eyes dark with renewed desire. “We’re not done yet,” he murmurs against my lips, and the promise of more ignites a fresh wave of anticipation. The night is ours, and I’m ready to lose myself in him all over again.