Is something wrong? Vivian asked, her voice tight. No, nothing like that. It’s just standard procedure for high-risk pregnancies. High-risk? You’re over 30 and this is your second pregnancy after a significant gap. It’s nothing to worry about, but we like to monitor things closely. Vivian nodded, but Adrian could see the fear creeping back into her eyes.
The 2 weeks that followed were the longest of Adrian’s life. Vivian became obsessive, reading every pregnancy book she could find, tracking every symptom, calling the doctor at the slightest twinge. Adrian tried to reassure her, but he was terrified, too. They’d come so far, risked so much. The thought of losing it now was unbearable.
The second ultrasound brought relief. The baby was growing, the heartbeat still strong. Vivian cried through the entire appointment and Adrian held her hand so tightly his knuckles went white. “You’re doing great.” the doctor said. “Keep doing what you’re doing.” By the time they hit the 12-week mark, some of the fear began to ease.
Vivian’s body was changing, her clothes growing tighter, her energy fluctuating wildly. She moved through her days with a kind of cautious optimism, like someone walking on ice that might crack at any moment. And Adrian moved through his own life in a haze of disbelief. He was going to be a father again. He was in love with a woman who loved him back.
He was building a family that looked nothing like what he’d imagined but felt more real than anything he’d ever known. But reality had a way of intruding. One evening, as Adrian and Vivian sat together on her couch, she brought up the question they’d been avoiding. “We need to talk about what happens after the baby’s born.” she said.
Adrian set down his glass. “Okay.” “I’ve been thinking about custody, about where we’ll live, about how we’re going to make this work.” “And?” “And I don’t know. I don’t want to live in separate houses and split custody like divorced parents, but I also don’t know if you’re ready to move in here or if I’m ready to move in with you.
” Adrian had been thinking about the same thing. His house was too small, too run-down, but Vivian’s estate felt cold, impersonal, like a museum. Neither space felt like the right place to raise a child together. “What if we found somewhere new?” he suggested. “Somewhere that’s ours, not yours, not mine. Ours.” Vivian looked at him, surprised.
“You’d be willing to do that?” “Yeah, I mean, it’s not like I’m attached to my rental. And this place, no offense, doesn’t exactly scream family home.” She smiled faintly. “No, it doesn’t.” Then her expression grew serious. “Adrian, if we do this, if we move in together, it changes everything. We’d be a couple, a family.
Are you ready for that?” “Are you?” “I asked you first.” He took her hand. “I’m ready. I’ve been ready. I just didn’t know if you were.” Vivian leaned in and kissed him softly. “I’m ready, too.” They started looking at houses the following week. It was surreal, walking through open houses hand-in-hand, imagining their lives in these spaces.
Adrian felt like an impostor, a guy who repaired washing machines pretending he belonged in homes with granite countertops and walk-in closets. But Vivian moved through each house with a critical eye, pointing out flaws, imagining possibilities, making it feel real. They found the house in early June. It was a two-story colonial in a quiet neighborhood with a big backyard and enough bedrooms for Eli, the baby, and a home office for Vivian.
It needed work, new paint, updated fixtures, some landscaping, but it had good bones. And when Adrian walked through the front door and saw the light streaming through the windows, he felt something settle in his chest. “This is it.” Vivian said, standing in the empty living room. “This is home.” Adrian walked over and put his arm around her. “Yeah.
It is.” They made an offer that day and it was accepted by the end of the week. Suddenly, impossibly, they were building a life together, but not everyone was happy about it. Vivian’s business partner started asking questions. Her assistant began giving Adrian strange looks. And one afternoon, as Adrian was loading tools into his van, a sleek black car pulled up beside him.
A woman stepped out, mid-50s, perfectly dressed, radiating authority. “Mr. Cole?” “That’s me.” “I’m Margaret Chen. I serve on the board of Sterling Enterprises.” She extended a hand and Adrian shook it warily. “I was hoping we could talk.” “About what?” “About Ms. Sterling and your relationship with her.” Adrian’s stomach tightened. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.” “Perhaps not.
But Vivian is not just a colleague, she’s a friend. And I’m concerned about the choices she’s making.” “What choices?” Margaret’s expression hardened. “She’s pregnant, Mr. Cole. And from what I understand, you’re the father.” “That’s right.” “And you expect me to believe this is a legitimate relationship, not some kind of arrangement?” Adrian felt anger rise in his chest.
“What Vivian and I have is between us. It’s not up for debate.” “I think you’re taking advantage of her. She’s vulnerable, grieving, and you saw an opportunity.” “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Don’t I?” “You’re a handyman living paycheck to paycheck. She’s a billionaire. The math isn’t hard.” Adrian stepped closer, his voice low and dangerous.
