Tristan's Redemption (17 page)

Abby flopped her purse down on the counter as Tristan went to the refrigerator for a drink.

“
Wouldn’t it just be easier to set up a bed at the doctor’s office? I’ve been in five times this month.” And she was quite aggravated with the frequent visits. Abby knew in the last month of pregnancy, obstetrical appointments were once a week anyway, but with gestational diabetes, her doctor monitored a little more closely.

Tristan put a bottle of water down in front of Abby and kissed her.
“Just think, you’ll be thirty-seven weeks in a few days and before you know it, the baby will be here.”

Abby moaned in frustration.
“Don’t reason with me, please. I just want to be aggravated and you’re being logical.”

Chuckling, Tristan shook his head and walked toward the door.
“Fine. You be aggravated. I’m going to go get some work done.”

She sighed, thinking about Tristan accompanying her to every single visit. He asked as many questions as she did, he had the doctor
’s phone numbers programmed into his phone and had mapped out the quickest route to the hospital. Tristan acted as if he were the baby’s father.

“
How did the appointment go?” Abby looked up to see Alice approaching.

She patted her belly.
“I didn’t gain any weight, and my blood sugars were great.”

Alice clasped her hands together with a smile.
“That’s wonderful.”

“
I think so too.”

“
Abby,” Alice remarked with a nervous expression, “I am so thankful that Mr. Ramirez has you.”

“
Thank you, Alice. That means a lot. Actually, I’m pretty grateful that I have Tristan. Not to sound too clichéd, but he brought light back during a pretty dark time.”

“
It’s fated, really. Especially considering the way you two found each other. And this Christmas should be so much happier for you both. Losing someone you love is hard enough without it happening that time of year.”

December twenty-second was the anniversary of David
’s death. Had Tristan’s wife died around the holidays too?

Abby thought about going to his office and asking, but he was catching up on work. She went to find her computer, so she could get some answers.

~

“
Maybe it is Lidia,” Abby mused to herself as she clicked enter. She had tried four different spellings in the search engine and nothing came up. “Oh come on.” Drumming her fingers on the side of the laptop in frustration, she wondered why she wasn’t finding anything.

Maybe I should try Tristan
’s name.

She typed Tristan Ramirez wife and a full screen of links popped up. She clicked the one to an accident report from the
Atlanta Journey and Constitution
, and gasped when she saw the article.

David Alexander Daniels, local attorney, was killed Tuesday when he was struck by a car driven by Lydia
Estevan. Estevan’s vehicle stopped when she rear-ended a delivery truck. Daniels and Estevan were both pronounced dead at the scene. According to police, alcohol and speed were both factors.

Abby
’s hands were trembling, but she couldn’t stop reading. Tristan’s wife had killed David. At some point, Abby was certain that she had heard the woman’s name, but so much of what happened initially after David’s death was a blur. Some people would probably have remembered the name of the woman that killed their spouse, but to Abby, it was just details. Nothing changed the fact that David was dead.

She clicked the link to the obituary.

Lydia Estevan, 29, of Atlanta died Tuesday, December 22 as a result of a car accident. A retired fashion model, Ms. Estevan worked closely with various children’s charities in the area...

Surviving is her husband, Tristan Ramirez, of Atlanta.

Tears blurred her vision as she clicked on another article. This one included pictures detailing the life of Lydia Estevan. The woman was stunning. Legs that went on forever, eyes that were almost as black as her hair. Her face looked as if it was sculpted by an artist, perhaps by God Himself. The most remarkable picture was taken by Tristan’s side at a charity event. Lydia was laughing in another direction at something and Tristan stood with his mouth in a straight line, his hands by his side.

Oh God.

She had to get out of there. Tristan’s wife, the woman who’d killed David, had lived in this house. She needed space. She needed time to think. She needed to get the hell out of here. Not even bothering to close down her laptop, she retrieved her purse and walked as quickly as she could out of the house.

Before she pulled out of the driveway, Abby texted Tristan.

Need to think for a while. Will call later.

She pressed send and pulled away, wishing that the last hour all was just a bad dream.

~

Tristan closed Abby
’s laptop with a feeling of dread. Her text had scared the hell out of him. He ran up to the bedroom and found her open laptop on the bed. Tristan wondered if she read something that upset her and looked at the screen.

“
Son of a bitch.”

He found pictures of Lydia. Shots from her modeling career, pictures of Lydia and Tristan together, a picture of the wreck. That one added to nausea building in Tristan
’s stomach. He quickly scrolled down, not wanting to look at the aftermath of the accident that caused his death.

“
Oh God.” He groaned when he got to the bottom of the screen and saw the picture of him angrily shouting at reporters outside of the police station. He looked furious, when he had just been told of his wife’s death.

By this time, Abby had probably been notified as well.

Abby knew. What was she thinking? Would she leave him?

No.
This would not separate them. He’d fought too hard and come too damned far to lose Abby now. She often went to her grandparent’s farm if she had to think, so he would go there first. His feet ate up the distance as he rushed for the door. He had to find her. The sooner, the better.

~

She couldn’t stay much longer, her glucometer was at Tristan’s, and she was hungry, but what was she going to say. What
could
she say?

Did our relationship start out as some sort of scheme to get to know David Daniels
’s wife better?

Someone knocked on the door. Abby stayed put, not ready for this confrontation. But the
knocking continued, and she couldn’t ignore it forever.

“
Abby, come on. I know you’re in there.”

And I asked for time.

She opened the door, and Tristan looked surprised. “I didn’t know if you were going to let me in or not.”

“
Tristan, you’ve taken care of me for months. We’re practically living together.” Abby stepped to the side so he could come in. “I wouldn’t make you stay outside.”

He looked around the room nervously as she closed the door.
“Thank you.”

She motioned toward the couch.
“Let’s sit. I’m tired and it’s been a really long day.”

He cringed.
“I can take you home. You can rest. We don’t have to do anything right now.”

“
Actually, Tristan, we do.” She sighed wearily. “When did you find out? Or, should I ask, how long have you known who I am?”

His shoulders slumped.
“As soon as I saw you in therapy.”

Abby breathed in and out, slowly, processing the information, or at least attempting to.
“How did you know?”

“
Did you not see the photographers at your husband’s funeral?”

Abby shook her head.
“I didn’t see much of anything that day.”

“
It was pretty big news for a while. When the wife of a billionaire kills someone while driving drunk, the reporters come out of the woodwork.”

She realized that while she was dealing with her own grief, Tristan had to deal with that as well as fend off reporters. Both going through two separate versions of a personal hell.
“It must have been bad for you.”

Tristan shrugged.
“I’m used to it. But you’re not. I wouldn’t want you exposed to that.”

Abby felt very thankful that her ordinary life didn
’t pique the interests of reporters. “Why did you sit next to me in group?”

His expression was pained
, and he took a deep breath before answering. “You were all alone, and you never should have been there in the first place. I was the reason for that.”

“
No, you weren’t. Your wife was driving that car, not you.”

“
Lydia never drank like that before we were married. I neglected her. She needed me and I put more of myself into my business than I ever did my marriage.”

“
I must have been a reminder of all that you had lost.”

“
Or my hope for the future. Abby, you made me see who I wanted to be. You’re not a reminder of my mistakes or what I lost, you’re my incentive to be a good man.”

Abby held his gaze for a moment. He wore the strain of the afternoon on his face. The fine lines of tension around his eyes were more evident. Tristan looked unsure, vulnerable. She
’d seen the same look on David’s face the day that he died.

“
This is...a lot. I mean,” she blew out a ragged breath, “you knew about this and I’m just learning. Hasn’t it been awkward to be around me, at any time?”

“
No,” Tristan shook his head, “not at all. I walked into group that first night, dreading being there. But I saw you and I had, I don’t know, hope.”

“
Hope?” Abby asked, remembering her interest in him that first night, as well.

Tristan wrapped his arms around her so fast, she barely had time to blink.
“Yes, hope. Never awkwardness.”

“
What about guilt?” She had to know. “Did that play a factor in your interest in me?”

~

“Yes.” He owed her honesty. “I saw you and felt the need to apologize for...”
Cheating, leaving you alone,
“you being there.” At her questioning look, Tristan released her and stood back. “Regardless of specifics, I felt responsible for you losing your husband and being at that meeting. But then you looked up at me and, God, Abby, I didn’t want to make a quick apology and walk away. Hell, I didn’t want to move. By divine providence or some stroke of fate, the seat beside you wasn’t taken, and I had an excuse to be close to you.”

Her expression had softened. Before she looked hurt, now she seemed to be thinking about what he said.
“Abby, can we go home? I mean, are you going with me back home?”

Please God, don
’t let her stay here.

She nodded and took a deep breath.
“I love you, Tristan, and I want to go home with you. But you have got to understand. I was betrayed the worst way possible the day that David and Lydia died. I don’t deal with secrets or lies. It has taken me this long to be able to think about David without being resentful of the cheating. I need absolute trust between us.”

For months, Tristan wanted to tell Abby that he was David. But he couldn
’t. Not now. And really, he wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to tell her. He refused to take the chance that he would hurt her. He took her hands within his own. “Abby, I promise that I will never hurt you. I will honor your trust in me and spend the rest of my life loving you.” He kissed her, softly and with reverence. Afterward, she looked up at him and smiled.

“
Let’s go home.”

“
Lord have mercy, Abigail Marie. This place is a mansion. You don’t have to clean, do you?”

Abby smiled as she hung baby clothes in the nursery closet. The girls from work had given her a shower—on top of the shower her family had thrown yesterday—and Abby
’s mom had helped her bring all the gifts back to Tristan’s house. At this rate, she wouldn’t have to buy diapers for at least a year. She looked over at her mom, who gaped at the room, clearly in shock over the amount of space. Just as she had been.

“
No, Tristan has staff.”

“
I just don’t get it. Why does one person need this much room? How many bedrooms does this place have?”

“
I don’t know. Eight, maybe?”

Her mom coughed, and Abby stopped folding onesies so she could look over her shoulder.
“Are you okay?”

“
Honey,” she leaned over and whispered, “this is a scary kind of rich. People try to kidnap somebody with this much money. Are you sure you want to live here?”

Abby smiled and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Placing her hand on her mom
’s shoulder, she kissed her cheek. “Tristan has security, so don’t worry.”

“
Are they any good?”

She couldn
’t stop the chuckle. “Yes, Mom. They’re the best. Now will you stop worrying and either help me or check out the baby’s room? A lot of work has been put into this.”

Her mom seemed to relax a little and walked around.
“Well, I’ll say this much. Somebody did a fantastic job of decorating. The baby isn’t going to want to leave this room. It looks like one of those celebrity designers spent a month in here.”

It was a week, actually. And she wasn
’t a celebrity...technically.

“
I think it’s beautiful.” Abby looked up at the ceiling where cloud murals had been painted. At night, when all the lights were off, tiny stars shone on the ceiling from spotlights.

“
If this room doesn’t tell you that Tristan loves you, I don’t know what does. Although I knew it when he came out to the farm.”

Abby froze, but kept her voice neutral.
“When did Tristan go to the farm?”

“
Last week. I can’t remember what day it was. He pulled up looking for you. The poor thing looked terrible, so upset. I thought something was wrong with you, but he said you were fine, that he had his days mixed up. I was on the way down to the bean field with Grandma or I would have called.”

That had to be the day she found out about his wife.

“Abby, are you okay sweetie?”

“
I’m fine.”

Her mo
m gave her an appraising glance then nodded. “Good. Okay, let’s get my grandson’s stuff put away. Then you can show me around the rest of this house.”

Abby folded tiny clothes, trying to remember just when she told him where her grandparents lived.