Chapter 3 - The silence that settled between us was heavy but not uncomfortable. I found myself actually considering his proposal instead of immediately rejecting it out of fear or pride.
“Andrew, that night at the bar,” I began slowly, choosing my words carefully. “It was special for me. Really special, in a way I rarely find. But this…”
I made a vague gesture that encompassed the pregnancy, the whole situation, the chaos that had become our reality.
“This literally changed everything.”
“For better or worse?” he asked, turning to face me directly with those intense blue eyes.
“I don’t know yet,” I admitted with brutal honesty. “It’s all too scary and uncertain, and I have no idea how we’re going to make this work.”
“Then let me show you,” Andrew said softly, his voice loaded with gentle determination, “that it can be for the better. That we can make this work. Give me a chance to prove it.”
“How?”
The question came out small and vulnerable, and I hated myself a little for sounding so lost.
“Have dinner with me,” he proposed.
When he saw my alarmed expression forming, he quickly added, “Tonight. Nothing fancy or public. At my apartment. Total privacy, no chance of anyone seeing and starting to ask questions or gossip. And I’ll cook for you.”
My surprise must have been obvious because he smiled slightly, that small smile that had completely disarmed me at the bar.
“You cook?”
“I own a food empire, and you really think I don’t know how to cook?”
There was genuine humor in his voice.
“Elila, I started this company because I’m passionate about food and the science behind it. Of course I know how to cook.”
I hesitated. All the reasons this was a bad idea ran through my head in an organized list. But there was something in his expression, in that carefully hidden vulnerability I could detect beneath his outer confidence, that made me want to say yes.
“Okay. But just dinner. Talking. Nothing beyond that.”
“Just dinner,” he agreed immediately.
The relief that passed across his face was so genuine it made my stomach do that strange flip again.
“I’ll pick you up at 7:00.”
When Andrew picked me up punctually that evening, I had spent the last 2 hours in complete panic mode, changing clothes 4 times before settling on a simple dress that was not too formal but did not look sloppy, and calling Koko 3 times to question my sanity for accepting the invitation.
“You look beautiful,” Andrew said when I opened the door.
There was something so sincere in the way he said it that my cheeks heated.
His apartment was exactly as I remembered from the 1st and only time I had been there, all minimalist elegance and floor-to-ceiling windows with a spectacular view of the lit city. But this time I was sober and hyperaware of every detail of how different that world was from mine.
“It’s a lot,” I managed.
I was not only talking about the size or the expensive décor, but everything the place represented about the disparity between our lives.
“It’s just an apartment,” Andrew said softly, but I could see he understood what I meant. “And I don’t want you to feel intimidated here, Elila. Ever. That’s not the intention.”
“It’s beautiful,” I corrected, because despite the discomfort with the glaring differences, it was impossible to deny that the place was objectively stunning. “Intimidating, but mostly beautiful.”
A genuine smile lit his face, transforming that serious CEO expression into something lighter and younger.
“Come on. Help me in the kitchen. Working together was always when we communicated best.”
His kitchen was the kind of space I had dreamed of my whole life, equipped with professional tools that made my chemist heart race with excitement. As we prepared dinner together, cutting vegetables and discussing the Maillard reactions that would happen when we seared the meat, I felt that natural chemistry return in an almost frightening way.
“Taste this,” he said, offering a spoon of the sauce he was preparing.
When I tried it, I could not hide my approval.
“It’s incredible, but it needs a bit more fresh thyme,” I commented, grabbing the chopped herbs nearby. “And maybe a little more acidity. Meyer lemon would work perfectly here.”
“You have an incredible palate,” Andrew said, watching as I adjusted the sauce with the suggested changes. “Seriously. It’s impressive how you can identify exactly what’s missing.”
“It’s literally my job,” I replied, but my chest warmed with the compliment. “At least before everything got too complicated.”
“You didn’t complicate anything,” he said firmly, stopping his work and turning to face me directly. “Elila, look at me.”
I forced myself to raise my eyes and meet that intense blue gaze that always made my heart race at inconvenient times.
“That night,” Andrew began, his voice lower and loaded with emotion, “wasn’t a mistake for me. It was the best night I’ve had in a very, very long time. Maybe years. And now, knowing you’re carrying my child…”
He paused, running a hand through his hair in a rare gesture of vulnerability.
“I’ve never wanted something so much in my life. Never felt this certain about anything before.”
Tears threatened to burn behind my eyes, hormones probably not helping my emotional control.
“What if it doesn’t work out between us? What if we try this and it’s a complete disaster?”
“Then we make it work,” he said with that absolute determination so characteristic of him. “For the child, at least. But, Elila…”
He took a step closer, holding intense eye contact.
“I’d really like it to be more than that. Much more than civilized co-parenting or a convenient arrangement.”
My heart was beating so hard I was sure he could hear it.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I want to really try,” Andrew answered, his voice firm despite the clear vulnerability in his expression. “A real relationship. Getting to know you beyond that night at the bar. Letting you get to know me, too. Building something together that’s more than circumstances forcing us to coexist.”
I looked at him through the fog of tears that finally started falling, seeing the sincerity stamped on every line of his face. For the 1st time since I saw that positive test, I allowed myself to consider that maybe this was not just an inevitable disaster, but the possibility of something genuinely good.
“I want that, too,” I finally whispered. “But I’ll warn you now, I’m an emotional mess on the best of days. And that was before adding pregnancy hormones to the mix.”
Andrew laughed, a genuine, warm sound that filled the kitchen. Then he gently pulled me into a hug, his arms wrapping around me protectively while I sank against his chest and let the tears fall freely.
“We’ll figure it out together,” he murmured against my hair. “No pressure. No impossible expectations. Just the 2 of us trying to do our best with this crazy situation.”
There, in that luxurious kitchen that seemed to belong to another world, wrapped in his arms and feeling for the 1st time in weeks that maybe everything would eventually be okay, I let myself believe that maybe we could make this work.
The following months passed at a strange pace that oscillated between too fast and slow as molasses, each day bringing small changes that accumulated into transformations impossible to ignore.
My belly started to show discreetly around the 12th week, a subtle curve I could hide with loose blouses and the lab coat, but which was definitely there when I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror in the morning.
The relationship with Andrew grew carefully and deliberately, slowly, as if we were both conscious that we had skipped several important stages and were now trying to fill in the gaps while building something solid.
He called me every night before bed. The conversations started with the baby and medical appointments, but always drifted to other subjects, discovering common tastes and fascinating differences that made each call longer than the last.
At work, Andrew was the definition of discreet and thoughtful without being too obvious, a fine line he navigated with impressive precision.
Suddenly, special lunches started appearing in the lab regularly, always accompanied by a corporate email explaining that it was a new benefit for the entire research team. But I recognized the careful nutritional choices in each meal, the perfect balance of proteins and vegetables my pregnant body needed.
When a heat wave hit the city and the lab’s old air-conditioning system could barely keep the temperature tolerable, making my morning sickness significantly worse, a technician showed up the following Monday to install new, more powerful units throughout the entire sector. Dr. Ramos was confused but grateful, commenting on the incredible luck of finally getting budget approval for a renovation they had been requesting for years.
Then there were the casual moments when Andrew passed through the lab during company rounds, always with a legitimate excuse about checking project progress or discussing timelines with Dr. Ramos. But his eyes always found mine for a few stolen seconds that made my heart race traitorously.
“He’s completely in love with you,” my coworker Sarah commented 1 day after Andrew passed through the lab for the 3rd time that week, which was definitely not his normal routine. “The way Mr. Leprince looks at you when he thinks no one’s paying attention. Girl, it’s intense.”
My face heated violently while I pretended to be absorbed in the experiment results in front of me.
“You’re imagining things. He barely knows I exist.”
“Right,” she said in a tone that made it clear she did not believe a single word. “That’s why he installed new air conditioning the day after you casually mentioned you were hot. Pure coincidence.”
I changed the subject quickly before she could ask more questions. Inside, though, my heart did that stupid thing of melting at the silent care he demonstrated in 1,000 small ways.
The 16-week medical appointment fell on a rainy Tuesday in November. Andrew had asked, with those hopeful blue eyes, whether he could accompany me, if I would feel comfortable having him there during such an important moment.
I agreed because the idea of doing it alone was terrifying, and because a growing part of me wanted to share those moments with him.
He picked me up at the apartment punctually, looking ridiculously handsome even with his suit slightly damp from the rain. He drove with the excessive care that had become standard whenever I was in the car, as if I were something infinitely fragile that could break with any sudden movement.
“Nervous?” he asked when he parked at the doctor’s office.
I could see his own anxiety barely hidden behind his calm expression.
“Terrified,” I admitted honestly. “What if something is wrong? What if the baby isn’t developing right or there’s some problem we didn’t know about?”
Andrew extended his hand across the center console, finding mine and intertwining our fingers in a way that had become familiar and comforting.
“Then we deal with it together. Whatever comes, we face it together.”
The appointment itself was a surreal mix of clinical and exciting. Dr. Santos was extremely professional while asking questions about my health and symptoms, but I could feel the tension radiating from Andrew beside me, his hand still holding mine tightly as we watched the ultrasound monitor flicker to life.
“Everything is perfect,” Dr. Santos announced with a warm smile after carefully examining images that, to me, just looked like abstract gray blobs. “Development completely on schedule, strong heartbeat, all measurements within expected range. Do you want to know the sex?”
I automatically looked at Andrew, who was staring at the monitor with an expression of absolute wonder, as if he were seeing something miraculous for the 1st time.
When he felt my gaze, he turned to me with eyes shining with barely contained emotion.
“Your choice, Elila. Whatever you want.”
“I want to know,” I answered after only a second of hesitation, because the uncertainty was slowly killing me and I needed something concrete to hold on to.
Dr. Santos adjusted the equipment, pointing to something on the screen I still could not clearly distinguish.
“It’s a boy. Congratulations to you both.”
A boy.
I was carrying a boy. Andrew’s son.
The reality of that hit me with such force that tears immediately sprang to my eyes. Hormones definitely were not helping my already precarious emotional control.
When we left the office after scheduling the next appointment and receiving a stack of pamphlets about fetal development and nutrition during pregnancy, Andrew was radiant in a way I had never seen before. All that CEO composure was completely abandoned in favor of pure, unfiltered excitement.
“A boy,” he repeated for the 3rd time since we got in the car, that huge smile still not having disappeared from his face. “We’re having a boy.”
I could not help but laugh at his obvious joy, something warm and comforting settling in my chest.
“You seem happier about this than I am.”
“I am,” he admitted without hesitation.
Then his expression became more serious, more vulnerable.
“Can I touch your belly?”
The question caught me off guard because of the evident shyness in it, as if he were asking permission for something monumental instead of a simple gesture.
Since that dinner at his apartment, we had maintained a respectful physical distance, touching only hands occasionally or sharing brief, chaste hugs. Nothing that invaded each other’s personal space too much.
“You can,” I whispered, suddenly nervous but wanting it too, wanting to share that moment of real connection with him.
Andrew moved his hand carefully, as if approaching something sacred, until his fingers found the small but definite curve of my belly through the dress. The touch was gentle and reverent, and I saw the exact moment when the complete reality of the situation hit him.
“Hi, son,” he murmured so low I could barely hear, his voice thick with emotion. “Dad here. We haven’t really met yet, but I already love you more than I thought it was possible to love someone I haven’t met.”
The tears I had managed to control at the office came back with a vengeance, flowing freely down my cheeks as I watched Andrew talk to our son through my belly. It was simultaneously the sweetest and most devastating scene I had ever witnessed.
“Elila.”
Andrew looked up immediately when he noticed my tears, instant concern replacing the joy.
“Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” I managed between sobs, laughing and crying at the same time in a way that probably looked completely insane. “It just feels real now. Really real. It’s not just a positive test or strange symptoms or numbers on a screen anymore. It’s a real baby. A boy. Our family.”
“It’s real,” Andrew agreed softly, his hand still on my belly while the other found mine and held it firmly. “And, Elila, I want it to be our family. You, me, and him. For real. Not just on paper or out of obligation. I want to build something real with you.”
The following weekend, Andrew arrived at my apartment with his hands full of shopping bags that clearly contained much more than necessary for any casual visit.
Koko was home for the 1st time in weeks. When I opened the door to let him in, I could feel her curiosity radiating from the kitchen, where she was pretending to be busy making coffee.
“For both of you,” Andrew explained, placing the bags on the coffee table with the slightly uncomfortable manner of someone unsure whether he had overdone it. “Prenatal vitamins. Those ginger teas you mentioned that help with nausea. Some books about child development I thought you might like. And maybe some clothes because I noticed you’re wearing the same 3 loose blouses on rotation.”
Before I could respond or process that he had paid enough attention to notice my limited clothing rotation, Koko emerged from the kitchen with the subtlety of a hurricane, her eyes shining with barely disguised interest.
“So you’re the mysterious guy,” she announced, crossing her arms and giving Andrew a full evaluative look from top to bottom. “Finally. I was starting to think Elila had invented you.”
Andrew looked genuinely embarrassed for the 1st time since I had met him, his confident CEO posture faltering slightly under my best friend’s direct scrutiny.
“I’m Andrew. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Koko. Elila talks about you a lot.”
“I know exactly who you are, Mr. Billionaire,” Koko said with that sharp smile of hers. “The important question is, what are your intentions with my best friend?”
“Koko.”
My face heated so much I was probably red as a tomato, complete mortification making my voice come out shrill.
“Marry her,” Andrew interrupted calmly, looking straight into Koko’s eyes with a brutal honesty that always disarmed me. “If she’ll eventually accept. Those are my intentions.”
The silence in the tiny apartment was so complete I could hear the old clock on the wall ticking. My heart beat so hard I was sure they could both hear it.
Koko looked at me, then at Andrew, then back at me, her expression slowly transforming into approval.
“Okay,” she announced finally. “I like him.”
Then she simply left the room and went to her bedroom, closing the door behind her and leaving us alone in the tense silence she had created.
“Andrew,” I began, having absolutely no idea what to say after that.
“I know it’s too soon. Too scary,” he said quickly, coming to sit beside me on the old sofa with that vulnerable expression he rarely showed. “But, Elila, I need you to know I fell in love with you twice, actually.”
My heart skipped an entire beat. I stared at him, unable to look away from those intense blue eyes.
“The 1st time was at the bar,” Andrew continued, his voice softer and loaded with emotion. “When you talked about chemistry and gastronomy with that passion that lit up your entire face. When you laughed at my bad jokes. When you were yourself without any filter or pretense.”
He paused.
“The 2nd time was watching you work in the lab over these weeks. Your passion for what you do, your dedication even when you’re feeling sick, the way you’re kind and patient with the people around you even when you’re dealing with so much stress.”
He took my hand between his, that gesture that had become our main form of physical connection.
“You’re everything I always wanted and didn’t know I was looking for, Elila. This baby, our family, is just the cherry on top of something I already wanted before I even knew he existed.”
The tears came inevitably, because of hormones and because no one had ever said anything remotely like that to me in my entire life.
“I love you too,” I whispered. “But I’m so scared, Andrew.”
“Of what?” he asked gently, his thumb making comforting circles on the back of my hand.
“That you’ll get tired,” I admitted, all the insecurity I had carried for years leaking into every word. “Of the complication that is my life, of my financial insecurities, of me. That you’ll realize there are millions of women more suitable for someone like you. Women from your world who would understand your life in a way I never will.”
Andrew gently pulled me closer, then did something that caught me completely off guard. He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, so sweet and comforting that more tears fell.
“Impossible. You 2, you and our son, are my absolute priority now. Always. No matter what happens, no matter what challenges appear, you’re not a complication, Elila. You’re the best thing that’s happened in my life in years.”
I looked at him through the tears and saw absolute sincerity stamped on every line of his face. For the 1st time since that night at the bar, I allowed myself to completely believe that maybe this could really work.
May you like
He pulled me into a sweet embrace that slowly transformed into something more when our eyes met and the distance between us gradually decreased. He offered me what would be our 1st truly intimate moment since that night weeks earlier, allowing me to close the final distance if I wanted.
I wanted.
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